by Sienna Blake
Kayleigh shrugged on top of me. “I haven’t even started thinking about what I am getting you for Christmas,” she said, not able to entirely hide her playful smile. “Haven’t even given it the tiniest thought, Darren O’Sullivan.”
Without thinking, I reached up, brushing her fiery red bangs out of her soft eyelashes. “I do.”
Kayleigh frowned. “You do?”
I met her gaze and smiled. “I know exactly what I’m getting you for Christmas, Kayleigh Scott.”
Neither of us moved as we stared into each other’s eyes there on the ice, our skates intertwined, our lips just inches from one another’s.
The little white lights draped over the large tree behind her outlined Kayleigh’s sweet face as she blinked as slowly as drifting snowflakes, and I imagined a constellation of her in the night sky. I imagined tracing, star by star, her image. I imagined wishing on them, one by one, as they disappeared into a golden dawn. Sometimes Kayleigh felt as far away, just as out of reach, as those glowing heavenly bodies.
But with her there in my arms, she wasn’t like the distant stars on a cold night, but drops of dew glistening in the morning light. With her heart beating against mine, she felt as close as those tiny beads of water clinging to the delicate petals of the wildflowers that grew in the cracks of the sidewalk outside my garage—the ones I only started noticing when Kayleigh walked into my life.
With her mittened hand soft against my cheek as she smiled down at me, I thought maybe I could reach her. Maybe she was closer than I thought.
Maybe she could be mine.
Kayleigh
Clocking into work at the motorcycle shop the next morning was like starting a ticking time bomb. The air in the garage hung heavy and still as if even the wind itself was holding its breath as it waited. As we moved amongst the vehicles, Darren and I looked with increasing frequency at the dusty clock hanging above the toolbox as if we could somehow escape the inevitable explosion if the big hand simply hit five. We barely spoke to one another as the tense minutes and then hours ticked by, but when I was forced to ask what oil a Harley needed, or when he needed to find a customer’s invoice in the office, we whispered as if our very voices might set off the charge.
Every time Darren’s hand brushed my arm as he reached across me to grab a wrench or screwdriver, it was as if the seconds remaining on the bomb jumped forward thirty seconds. Every time our eyes accidentally met across the garage where we were trying our best to avoid one another, we both froze as if we’d accidentally triggered a trip wire tied between two hubcaps. And whenever Darren called my name, whether it was to answer the phone or to show me something he was working on beneath the hood of an old Mercedes, I was certain the display flashed red double zeros, because it was more than I could stand.
I was going to fuck up.
I was going to fuck up and kiss Darren.
I wanted to fuck up and kiss Darren.
I wanted to fuck up and fuck Darren.
The bomb on my life, on his life, on the O’Sullivan family’s perfect life was ticking, ticking, ticking.
But noon came and went and we held ourselves back.
One, then two, then three o’clock all passed by and everything was still in one piece: the cars, the sign outside, the brotherly relationship between Darren and Eoin.
I watched the big hand hit 4 p.m. and I started to think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was no unstoppable timer counting down. Maybe there was no bomb. Maybe we weren’t destined to destroy everything.
At 4:15 Darren spoke with a customer who brought in his Kawasaki with a flat back tyre, and I was safe till 4:21. I busied myself with sweeping the shop floor to avoid having to ask Darren about a carburettor I was struggling with. Because I knew he would have come close to me and if he came close to me and I smelled his perfume and saw the different colours in his eyes and watched his supple, sexy lips as he described the problem to me, it was over.
Over.
Sweeping bought me till 4:29.
Organising the mail chewed up another three or four minutes.
I splashed cold water in my face to cool myself off in the bathroom till a quarter to; it didn’t help much with the dirty images that kept popping up in my mind every time I even thought of Darren.
At 4:55 I asked if I could leave a bit early—something about getting to the grocery store before all the good bread was gone. I wasn’t even sure what I was saying at this point.
At 4:56 Darren, kneeling by the Kawasaki, said that was “grand”.
At 4:57 I went into the small office at the back of the shop to grab my coat from the back of the wonky rolling chair in front of the old computer.
At 4:58 I was pulling my white fluffy beanie over my head and starting to wrap my scarf around my neck.
At 4:59 I turned around at a noise at the door.
At 4:59 I saw Darren with his hands pressed so tightly against the doorway that the muscles along his biceps shook.
At 4:59 I noticed I could no longer tell whether his eyes were more blue or more grey, because his eyes were dominated by his pupils so wide and so dark that I could see in them the reflection of my heaving chest.
At 4:59 Darren, his voice raw, said, “I’m sorry.”
And at 5:00 the timer hit 0:00.
At 5:00 the bomb went off.
Like a summer storm rolling in fast and hard across the horizon, Darren closed the distance between us in three long steps, backing me up against the wall. My shoulders collided against the outdated motorcycle calendar, which fell to the floor when Darren’s lips finally, finally crashed onto mine.
I wasn’t sure if it was his tall, muscular body crushed against mine or the searing heat of his lips that stole the air from my lungs, but I was quite certain that I never wanted it back. As Darren kissed me hungrily, greedily, needily, his strong hands gripped my waist. He easily lifted me and pinned me against the wall. I locked my ankles around his ass and dug my fingers into the nape of his neck.
With a groan, I arched my head back as Darren kissed a trail along my jaw and down my neck. Our hands collided with one another’s when we each at the same time tried to tug at my scarf with eager fingers. I clawed my fingernails down Darren’s back when he finally pulled the scarf away enough to suckle at my collarbone.
Darren moved back to my lips, his teeth catching my lower lip and biting just enough to make me roll my hips against his crotch. With a growl, Darren yanked off my beanie and ran his fingers through my hair. His tongue flicked against mine and I struggled to slip my coat off, still pinned deliciously against the wall.
Our frantic, lust-filled pants filled the small space of the little back office. Blood rushed past my ears and my heart thundered louder and louder in my chest. I’m guessing it was the same for Darren.
As we fell deeper and deeper into the kiss, we couldn’t have heard the roar of his motorcycle engine, even if it rumbled just outside the office door. We couldn’t have heard the ring of the telephone, the buzzer of the doorbell, the shout of a customer hoping to catch someone before the garage closed. We couldn’t have even heard our own voices begging the other for more, more, more, the sound of our breaths and blood and hearts was so deafening.
So we definitely didn’t hear the squeal of tyres as an SUV turned onto the street where Kelly’s Garage was located.
There was no way we heard the crunch of gravel beneath its tyres as it passed the old faded sign out front.
And there wasn’t a chance in hell that we heard it pull into the drive just outside the big, open garage door.
Maybe it would prove to be luck or maybe it would end up being a curse that the glare of headlights against my closed eyelids drew my attention as a car door opened outside.
“Darren, Darren,” I exhaled, pushing away his shoulders. “Someone’s here.”
Darren’s head immediately swivelled to the half-closed blinds of the window overlooking the shop as I slid back to the floor.
“Who is it?” I ask
ed, catching my breath and wiping a hand across my lips as I sagged against the wall, knees still weak.
Panic filled Darren’s eyes when he looked at me.
“Eoin.”
Darren
Of all the things my little brother could shout out into the empty, echo-y as hell garage moments after I dragged my lips away from the girl—his girl—who I wanted nothing more than to strip naked right then and there in my office, this was by far the goddamn worst: “Kayleigh Bear, my soulmate, the love of my life, where are you?”
Next to me, Kayleigh muttered a breathless “fuck” as she bent over to grab her scarf and beanie.
“Hey, Eoin,” she called out, sucking in a shaky breath as she adjusted the coat she had been seconds from pulling from her shoulders. “I’m in here with Darren.”
Kayleigh’s eyes avoided mine as she smoothed down her hair and slipped past me so she was in the middle of rearranging a stack of invoices when Eoin appeared in the doorway of the office with a massive grin on his boyish face.
“Hard at work as always, now aren’t you?” he said. “How’s it going, Darren?”
I was still frozen, petrified, horrified. I wanted to turn away from the sight of Eoin in the doorway, but I couldn’t. That was where I had stood, hands pressed against the doorframe just like his were. It was my brother who should have pushed Kayleigh against the wall. It should have been his tongue hot against her skin. It should have been him who, in the heat and passion of the moment, wanted more, more, more.
But it had been me. There was no taking that back.
“Hey, your calendar fell down,” Eoin said, pointing to the floor.
Dropping her stack of invoices, Kayleigh scurried to pick up the calendar as if it were an incriminating pair of black undies and not an outdated collection of motorcycle pictures. She muttered some excuse about the heating fan or the draught from the garage, which only made things worse as Eoin stared curiously at her with a lifted eyebrow.
Could he see her back had slammed into it when I pushed her against the wall?
Could he see that it ripped from the rusted tack when she flung her arms around my neck?
Could he see that it was her boot print on the stack of invoices from where she tried to get closer to me?
Because that’s all I could see.
“No worries.” Eoin laughed as Kayleigh failed again and again to desperately hang back up the calendar.
But there was already a tear that she couldn’t repair and she wasn’t ready or willing to stab a new hole.
Eoin walked over to Kayleigh and stopped her anxious efforts with an arm slung over her shoulders.
“Kayleigh Bear, your amazing, hot, famous, super-athletic boyfriend is here with early Christmas presents,” he joked. “Forget about the calendar.”
Kayleigh blushed. She finally let the calendar flutter back to the carpeted office floor. I was certain she hadn’t forgotten about the calendar. I would have bet good money that she wouldn’t forget about that calendar for a long time.
Neither would I.
I looked over at Kayleigh, who was still avoiding my eyes as she stared unblinkingly at the dusty blank computer screen.
“Well?” Eoin blurted out impatiently, waving his hand in front of Kayleigh’s face before snapping in my direction.
I dragged my attention to my brother, who looked moments away from stomping his foot.
“What’s that?” I asked. It felt like I hadn’t used my voice in years; every syllable tore at my throat and the words fell from my lips rough and hoarse.
Eoin sighed dramatically and loudly. “Don’t you want to know what your early Christmas presents are?”
I blinked at him stupidly like he hadn’t been standing there for the last three minutes and instead just magically appeared. “Presents?”
Eoin groaned. “You two are no fun at all,” he grumbled, reaching into his big coat pocket. His annoyance immediately disappeared though when he pulled out two tickets and grinned from ear to ear while waving them between Kayleigh and me. “Eh? Eh?” Eoin prodded, searching her and my reaction. “Are you excited or what?”
Kayleigh had to clear her throat before asking in a tiny, almost inaudible voice, “What are they?”
Both of Eoin’s eyebrows flew up. “‘What are they?’” His voice boomed through the crowded office space. “Is that really what you just asked, Kayleigh Bear? These just happen to be two of the best tickets for the hottest, most anticipated rivalry game of the season, Leinster v Munster. That’s what these are, baby.”
Eoin clearly expected us to either leap into the air or cheer uncontrollably or shout “ah, shhhtop!” or some combination of the aforementioned. Maybe he expected a little sampling of all of them. What he got was crickets.
“Who are they for?” I finally asked, glancing nervously at Kayleigh.
“Jaysus, what did you two take?” Eoin asked, his frustration obvious. “They’re for you two.”
“I can’t go,” I immediately blurted out the second Eoin confirmed my fear.
Eoin laughed. “I haven’t even told you when the game is, Daz. How do you know you can’t go?”
“I’m just really busy with the shop,” I answered, scratching awkwardly at the back of my neck. “Sorry. But Kayleigh can take off whenever she wan—”
“No, no, brother.” Eoin pulled his arm from Kayleigh and hurried over to me. He grabbed my shoulders with those massive bear paws of his and shook me as he looked imploringly into my eyes. “You have to go. I need you to go.”
I frowned as I asked a slow and tentative, “Why?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. My stomach churned as Eoin leaned in closer like he was about to tell me a very important secret I wouldn’t be able to unhear.
“Because, Daz,” he whispered, likely unaware it was plenty loud enough for Kayleigh to hear in the tight confines of the small back office, “the guys who come to the rugby matches are absolute pigs, and you know it.”
Eoin glanced over his shoulder at Kayleigh, whose red cheeks had been drained of colour. She knew where this was going, too.
“I don’t want their grimy, greasy, beer-sticky hands all over her if she’s stuck with them up in the stands,” Eoin continued, squeezing my shoulders and lowering his voice uselessly.
I resisted the urge to hide my oil-stained hands in the pockets of my jeans. Because my grimy, greasy hands had been all over her. And I wanted my hands to be all over her again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Eoin leaned in conspiratorially as he whispered, “I don’t want them staring at her body and thinking all those dirty thoughts, you know?”
What a fucking relief that Eoin couldn’t read my mind; what a fucking goddamn relief. Because I could guarantee you that for every dirty thought a stranger in the packed, ruckus stands might have, I had five thoughts ten times dirtier.
“They’re animals,” Eoin shook his head in disgust. “Just animals.”
He was talking about me; I was the animal.
“Eoin, listen,” I said, glancing over at Kayleigh’s horrified face over my brother’s wide shoulder, “I’m sure one of your buddies can go along with—”
“I don’t trust them,” Eoin interrupted.
I’d made a mistake. A terrible mistake, a horrible mis-turn, an uncorrectable misstep. I’d pointed the handle bars of the motorcycle straight off the cliffs and I was plummeting toward the jagged rocks below. All that was left to do was wait for the pain, the hurt, the agony.
Eoin smiled innocently, completely innocently, and said with utter confidence, “I trust you, Darren. I know family is the most important thing in the world to you.”
Those few, simple words were worse than if Eoin had walked in on Kayleigh and me kissing; I was quite certain of that. They were the words I dreaded hearing above all others. It was the one sentiment that managed to break my heart, flood it with shame, and choke it with so much guilt
that I stopped breathing.
Eoin smacked his hand against my arm the way a brother smacks his hand against his flesh and blood. He laughed the way a brother laughs with someone he’s known for his entire life. And he said the words any brother should be able to say to his brother without a trace of doubt. “I mean, there’s no way you’re going to touch her, right?”
I tried to laugh like a brother should laugh.
I tried to force a smile that looked like a brotherly smile.
I tried to keep my voice even, because a brother, a true brother, wouldn’t have to lie when he said, “Of course, Eoin.”
In that moment the last thing I felt like was a brother. I didn’t deserve that title. And worse, I didn’t want that title.
Because I wanted her.
“So you’ll go with my adorable little Kayleigh Bear then?” Eoin asked as he went over to ruffle Kayleigh’s hair.
“Sure,” I managed to croak.
Eoin lifted Kayleigh’s chin and smiled down at her. “Darren’s the best guy I know,” he said. “You’ll be safe.”
Kayleigh nodded as she managed a small smile that didn’t even begin to reach her eyes.
“Great!” Eoin clapped his hands together and slapped the tickets onto the stack of invoices on the office desk. “Ready for dinner then, babe?”
Kayleigh nodded and grabbed the white beanie I’d ripped off. Her fingers shook just slightly, so slightly that Eoin would never notice. But I did.
I didn’t move as Eoin guided Kayleigh out of the office and out through the garage. I was still standing there when Kayleigh checked back over her shoulder toward the office. Our eyes met through the open blinds, and I saw fear in that soft green as she looked at me.
It was the fear that coursed through your blood every time you revved the engine of a motorcycle.
It was the fear that rumbled in your chest as the tyres spun on that icy black asphalt.
It was the fear that you were going too fast, too fast, way too fast. It was the fear that you wouldn’t be able to slow down, that you didn’t want to slow down. That you were about to lose complete control.
