“I’m telling you, Claire-Bear, we’ve got this,” Gerard declared, armed with Brian’s cat cage. “It’s in the bag.” Marching us through the fair, he didn’t stop until we reached the area of the field that was sporting the dog show. “Trust me.”
“I don’t know, Gerard,” I replied, chewing on my bottom lip, as I hurried along beside him. “What if they don’t let us enter?”
“Bullshit,” he shot back, and then jerked comically when Brian swiped a paw through the bars of the cage. “They can’t do that.”
“Brian’s a cat.”
“So?”
“So, this is a dog show.”
“Nowhere in the rule books does it state that we have to enter a dog.”
“I think because it’s alluded to in the title ‘dog show’, Gerard.”
“Do you see a cat show being offered anywhere?”
“Nope.”
“Me either, so this will work, Claire.”
“What if they laugh at us?”
“So what if they do?” he scoffed, completely unaffected. “Let them. We need that prize money, babe – and we have more than earned that first-place trophy for washing that deranged bastard.” Reaching up, he touched the part of his shoulder that had been mangled the worst. “I have the scratches to prove it.”
“But you know Brian’s not very friendly.”
“No, he’s not,” Gerard agreed. “But I promised I would stand by you and provide for our babies so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Shrugging, he added, “Besides, he’s the one tapping Cherub. He can do this for us.”
“We should have brought Cherub.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a bit preoccupied right now,” he shot back, “what with being in the family way and having a belly on her bigger than Fat Paddy.” Slapping on a smile, he added, “Let’s just work with what we’ve been given here. Brian might be a bastard, but he’s a beautiful one.”
That was true. Brian was a looker alright. A long-haired pedigree Persian with a snow-white coat of perfectly combed fur. Too bad he was a demon on the inside. “What if he attacks the judges?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.”
“Oh?” My eyes narrowed and I eyed him warily. “Gerard. What did you do?”
“Offered him a mild sedative before we left the house.”
“You did what?”
“How else was I supposed to get him in the box?” he demanded, looking affronted. “You know how ratty he gets when I touch him.”
“Oh God, this is a bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea,” he corrected, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “And we’ve got this.”
“Oh, Gerard, look at the dog,” I cooed, eyes locked on the pampered Pomeranian.
“He doesn’t have shit on us … ”
“Claire.”
“Claire.”
“Claire!” The sound of my brother’s voice thundered through my ears, disrupting the most epically perfect memory dream I’d had in weeks, and startling me into a sudden state of confused consciousness. “Come on, will you? It’s gone seven. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”
“Gone seven?” I called back sleepily. “In the morning?”
“Yeah, let’s go,” his deep voice boomed from the other side of my bedroom door. “Hurry up.”
“But it’s still summer, Hugh,” I wailed, momentarily panicking that I’d somehow slept through the last few days of our summer holidays and was about to be thrust back into the corridors of Tommen. “And it’s Saturday!”
“Yeah, genius, I know it’s Saturday,” he drawled, tone laced with a healthy dollop of brotherly sarcasm. “Listen, Mam’s been tormenting me since your birthday to get you a job at the hotel. Kim told me to bring you along this morning. There’s an opening for a part-time lifeguard at the pool, and she wants to give you a trial run while I’m on duty, so get your ass in gear because my shift starts at eight, and I won’t be late for you.”
“A trial?” Scrunching my nose up in distaste, I stretched my legs out and yawned. “For what?”
“A job,” came his sarcastic response.
“But I have a job.”
“You volunteer at the public swimming pool, Claire,” he replied, sounding more impatient by the second. “Lifeguarding at the hotel is a paying job.”
“Smart-ass.” Yawning sleepily, I snuggled deeper into the mattress, feeling beyond exhausted. “Give me five more minutes, will you? I’m just resting my eyes.”
“Rest your eyes all you want,” my brother replied. “But I’m leaving in ten minutes. Dad’s holed up in the attic on a deadline, so he won’t take you, and—”
“Then I’ll ask Mam,” I called back before he could finish.
Hah.
Take that, sucker.
“Mam’s not back from the night shift at the hospital yet,” he swiftly continued, not missing a beat. “She won’t be back in time.”
“Hugh, please,” I complained, kicking my legs under my duvet in frustration. “Just give me five more minutes!”
“No, because I know that your version of five minutes really means forty minutes and I need to leave in ten,” he replied, sounding more impatient by the second.
“Keep talking and you’ll bore me back to sleep.”
“Fine. Suit yourself,” he called back. “But when Mam bitches about you not getting a job, don’t even think about dropping the blame baton onto me, princess.” There was a long pause before his voice boomed again. “Oh, and you can tell that asshole that he was supposed to meet Cap at the gym two hours ago.”
That did the trick.
My eyes sprang open, and I bolted out of my bed, only to ping back like a boomerang when my hand wouldn’t comply with the rest of my body.
Of course it wouldn’t.
Not when it was welded to a much larger hand.
“Five more minutes, babe,” Gerard echoed my earlier words from under a mountain of pillows and teddy bears. “I’m resting my eyes.”
“Come on, get up,” I groaned, battling it out for dominion over my hand and losing when he pulled me back down on the mattress without breaking a sweat – or cracking open an eyelid. “Hugh’s right outside my door. Apparently, you’re supposed to be at the gym.”
“The gym can suck my balls,” he mumbled, rolling onto his side, and pulling me flush against his chest to spoon. “Fucking Kav.”
“Gerard!”
“Snuggling my Claire-Bear equals a happy Gibsie. Running laps on the treadmill until I puke equals a very unhappy Gibsie.” The feel of his big body pressed to mine set loose what felt like a cage of wild butterflies in my chest. “It’s all about priorities, babe.”
“And I’m yours?” I teased.
“Always,” he confirmed sleepily, tightening his hold on my waist.
Jesus.
Breath hitching, I forced myself to exhale slowly, all the while desperately trying to channel down the somersaulting sensation in my belly. The one that felt like I had just driven over a massive hump in the road, that caused my organs to shift around in my body.
Everything between us was starting to feel a whole lot different lately. More intense. More grown up. Even though he was the same boy I’d spent most of my life adoring, he certainly didn’t look like that boy anymore.
Sure, his silvery-gray eyes still sparkled with boyish mischief, but the puppy fat that had once lingered on his belly was long gone. High cheekbones and a defined jawline that was speckled with day-old stubble had replaced the chubby cheeks he once bore.
It was fair to say that Gerard Gibson was all man now, and that piece of knowledge caused something to stir inside of me.
I liked it, I realized – maybe even more than liked it.
My body seemed to react to the sight of him, causing my skin to flood with heat and my heart rate to skyrocket.
“Just relax,” he mumbled sleepily. Not bothering to crack an eyelid open, he draped his big bicep around my body and pulled me back down. “Hm.” A deep rumble of approval escaped his lips when our bodies melded together once more. “Better.”
Unable to repress the full body shudder of pleasure that rippled through my core, I grew lax against him, knowing that it was a terrible idea with Hugh just outside and especially when I could feel his, uh, morning ladder steadily erecting, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.
Completely aligned, with my back to his chest, Gerard buried his face in my neck and inhaled deeply before whispering the words, “Stay with me,” in my ear.
Oh God.
“You’re going to get in trouble with Johnny,” I announced, repressing the urge to shiver in delight when his lips brushed the curve of my neck. The move was featherlight and clearly accidental on his behalf, but it caused my toes to curl. “And you’re all sweaty.”
“Kav will be grand.” His breath fanned the back of my neck when he spoke. “And it always happens after ah … you know.”
After one of his night terrors, and, yeah, I knew all too well.
Last night was a bad one and I could still remember it vividly.
Heat emanated from his skin.
Sweat trickled from his neck to his shoulder.
I watched the glistening bead as it moved.
Sliding over his bare flesh, expunging itself from a body I could never get close enough to.
It wouldn’t be long now.
The screaming would come.
Followed swiftly by the panic attack that always reduced him to a gasping, breathless, broken seven-year-old boy.
I remembered the first one just as vividly as the day it happened.
After all, I had been there to witness it first-hand.
The trauma.
The devastation.
The thought barely had time to register in my mind when the first cry ripped from his throat. It was a torn, shrill, agonizing sound that cultivated from a memory I couldn’t erase for him.
“No!” Thrashing helplessly, he bolted out of bed, knocking over my nightstand in his bid to break free from the demons in his dreams. “Please don’t … ”
“Gerard!”
I had enough experience dealing with his night terrors to know that giving him space was the worst thing I could do. Therefore, I scrambled off my bed in my haste to get to him.
“Shh.” Even in sleep, he knew my touch enough to let me cradle him in my arms. “It’s me.” His entire body was soaked with sweat but that didn’t stop me. “I’m here.” I leaned in close, nuzzling his cheek with mine. “Shh, Gerard, it’s okay.”
“No, no, no … ” Pained groans turned to weak mewling as, even in sleep, he frantically sought out my touch. “I can’t make it stop.”
“It’s over,” I tried to coax, cupping his cheeks with my hands. “It’s just a nightmare now.”
His sharp intakes of breath took on a desperate note, quickly shifting into panicked gasps.
Like he couldn’t draw air into his lungs.
Like he was drowning.
With them.
“I’ve got you,” I continued to whisper, melding my body to his, knowing this was exactly what he needed to come back down from the edge. From the pain. “I’m right here with you.”
Slowly, his body relaxed to the feel of mine, taking me in, hearing my words, smelling my scent, breathing me in until he was mine and I was his. Until we were us again and he was safe.
“Claire?” His body stiffened then, and I knew he was awake. “Claire. Claire?”
“It’s me.” Releasing a shaky breath, I tightened my hold on him and buried my face in his neck. “I’m right here, Gerard. It’s okay … ”
“Yeah, I know,” I whispered, blinking away the memories of last night when he’d wandered into my room in a frantic state of blind panic. “But they’re getting a lot worse.”
I felt him nod against me.
Lately, Gerard’s nightmares had frequented to the point of being almost a nightly event. It was as unsettling as it was heartbreaking. Because I knew he was battling his demons – or should I say his ghosts. The ones from his childhood that he refused to talk about.
“What happened in last night’s one?” I asked, feeling just as helpless this morning as I did every morning that I woke up with him in my bed.
Finding Gerard in my bed wasn’t a new thing for us. In fact, in the past decade there was only a handful of nights he hadn’t slept over.
“Same as always,” he replied in a vulnerable tone, sounding nothing like the comedic joker the rest of the world was privy to. “Listen, I’ll get you to wherever you need to be on time, I promise.” He shifted closer, tightening his big arm around my waist. “Just snuggle me for a bit first.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when my bedroom door swung inwards with such force that it smacked off the plaster on my wall.
“Did I just hear that asshole ask you to snuggle?”
“What the hell, Hugh?” I shouted, wrestling free from the giant teenage boy in my bed to stop the giant teenage boy charging towards him from throwing down. “We have rules in this house, remember?” Scrambling off the bed, I rushed to intercept Hugh before either one could choose violence. Gerard and Hugh’s relationship was more like brothers than friends, and rarely came to any serious blows, but there had been a couple of occasions down through the years that I didn’t want to see repeated. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“Gibs, you better not be naked in there,” my brother warned, ignoring me entirely, while he focused on his friend who was sprawled out in my bed.
“Morning, stud,” Gerard poked the bear by taunting, as he wiggled his fingers in salutation. “Any chance of some breakfast in bed for your favorite brother-in-law?”
And there it was.
His mask.
The divide that separated the sensitive boy I adored from the humorous one all our other friends enjoyed.
It slipped effortlessly into place.
Gibsie belonged to the rest of the world.
Gerard belonged just to me.
“I’ll give you breakfast in bed, you little whore.” My brother’s face turned a freakish shade of purple. “I swear to Christ, lad, if you put so much as a finger on her, I will legit kill you dead this time.”
“On her or in her?”
“Gibs!”
“Oh, get a grip, you big eejit.” I rolled my eyes and stalked towards my brother. “He’s only messing with you. We’re clearly just friends.”
“Clearly,” came Hugh’s sarcastic response. “You two are just friends and Bella’s the Virgin Mary.”
“Bella’s a … what’s the word those girls in pink use in the film, babe?” Gerard asked, twirling a finger around aimlessly. “An ugly clit?”
“A fugly slut, Gerard,” I corrected with a smile. “But full marks for attempting a Mean Girls reference.”
“Fugly slut,” he chuckled, mimicking the word to himself. “I love it.”
“You won’t be around to love anything if you don’t get your hole out of my sister’s bed,” Hugh growled.
“Hey now, you listen up here, buddy,” I huffed, catching ahold of his shoulders, and pushing him towards my door, “I don’t go in your room when your precious Katie is here, so you don’t get to come into mine.”
“There’s a big goddamn difference in that equation, Claire,” Hugh shot back. “Katie’s a saint and he’s a whore.” Clearly furious, my older brother took in my appearance and seemed temporarily appeased at the sight of my pink, fluffy onesie. “Oh, thank Jesus. You’re fully clothed.”
“Same as always,” I drawled, folding my arms across my chest. “Talk about jumping to conclusions, Hugh. Jeez.”
“Yeah, well, this sleepwalking bullshit has to stop,” my brother commanded, turning his attention back to the boy in my bed. “It’s getting beyond a joke.”
“He can’t help it,” I protested, finding myself coming to the defense of the boy I’d adored since childhood. “You know it’s not something he can control, Hugh. It just happens.”
“Of course he can,” Hugh shot back, giving me a look that said don’t be so gullible. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does,” my brother clapped back. “You don’t see him sleepwalking into my bed, do you?”
“If you’re feeling left out, I can make it my mission to stop by your bed tonight, brother.”
“Try it and I’ll chop your nuts off.”
“No need to get testy.”
“Stay out of my sister’s bed and we won’t have a problem.”
“Force of habit,” Gerard mused, as he stretched out on my bed like a big, lazy lion before pulling himself into a sitting position, Gibsie mode fully activated.
“Yeah,” Hugh sneered in disgust, “a ten-year habit that stops today.”
“What can I say.” Chuckling softly to himself, Gerard stretched his arms above his head and yawned loudly. “I’m a creature of habit.”
The move caused my duvet to slip downwards, giving me a wonderful view of his naked chest.
“You’re a creature alright,” my brother growled, stalking towards him. “A fucking pest corrupting my sister.”
“Oh, pack it in, Hugh!” I interrupted, tearing my eyes off his pierced nipples. “He’s not corrupting me.”
“See?” Grinning wickedly, Gerard waggled his brows at the same time as flexing his pecs. “I’m not corrupting her.”
“Don’t you shake your tits at me,” Hugh warned, waving an accusing finger around. “And don’t even think about cooking up anything fishy in here with my sister, either.”
“I don’t cook fish, Hugh, I bake buns,” Gerard shot back with a wink. “In ovens.”
“You cheeky—”
“Hey – no, no, no, don’t come barging into my room, banging your fists on your chest, just because your pea brain can’t process the fact that two people can sleep in the same bed and just sleep,” I warned, quickly intercepting my brother when he made a beeline for Gerard. “Nu-uh, don’t even think about throwing down in here, buddy.”
“Just sleep,” Hugh sneered and then turned his attention back to Gerard. “You know what? The sooner you get back to school the better, because you’ve been stuck on my sister like a fly to shit—”
“Are you calling your sister shit?”
“Yeah.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you just call me poo?”
“You know what I mean,” Hugh grumbled. “He hasn’t left this house – or your side, for that matter – all damn summer.”
“So?” I laughed. “He’s been here every day since forever. We’ve always hung out, Hugh. What’s the big deal now?”
“The big deal now is that you’re not a child anymore, Claire. You’re a sixteen-year-old teenage girl and he’s a fuckboy, with a lot of experience, and a lot of hidden agendas.”
“I beg your fucking pardon,” Gerard spluttered, clearly taking offense to the statement. “I am no fuckboy.”
“Gibs, you’re the definition of a fuckboy,” Hugh argued back. “People look up the word in the dictionary and find your face!”
“Actually, that word isn’t in the dictionary,” I decided to offer some common sense into the equation.
“A-ha!” Gerard taunted, springing out of my bed. “Shows what you know, asshole.”
“Well, at least you have jocks on,” Hugh huffed, mildly appeased by the sight of Gerard’s white Calvin Kleins.
“Yeah.” Gerard snorted. “This time.”
Hugh’s eyes widened to the point where I thought they might pop. “Asshole, you are getting on my last nerve.”
“Come on, Gerard,” I groaned, shaking my head. “Don’t rise him.”
“That’s what I tried to tell your sister last night.”
A vein bulged in my brother’s forehead. “What did you just say?” Hugh whisper-hissed, as his eyes widened in comical horror. “What the fuck did you just say about my sister?”
“Gerard,” I half-scolded, half-laughed, as I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Grinning wolfishly, he winked in response.
“Right. That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. Out,” Hugh ordered, pointing to my bedroom door. “Take your filthy mouth and your even filthier cock back to your own side of the street.”
“You’ve got me all wrong, lad,” Gerard continued to taunt, as he threw on my dressing gown and then somersaulted over the bed to where I was standing. “I’m as pure as the driven snow.”
“Yeah,” Hugh grumbled sarcastically. “The snow outside a whorehouse.”
“Good luck with your interview, Claire-Bear.” Gerard pressed a featherlight kiss to my cheek before toeing on my at-least-five-sizes-too-small slippers. “Mind if I take a shower here? Keith always leaves a deposit worthy of an exorcism in the toilet before work that, I shit you not, takes a good three hours to fully flush down the—”
“Yes, we do. Now, get out!” Hugh instructed, pointing to the basket in the corner of my room that contained a sleeping Cherub and her brood of adorable offspring. “And take your share of those kittens back to your side of the street with you.”
“And separate them from their mother?” Gerard gaped. “What kind of a monster are you?”
“Cherub will be grand,” Hugh grumbled.
“I was referring to your sister.”
“You’re a headcase, Gibs. Seriously fucking deranged.”
“Ignore your cranky uncle, babies,” Gerard called over his shoulder, as he sauntered out of my room. “Daddy will be back tonight.”
“Go the fuck home, Gibs!”
“Fine. I need to go check on your nephew anyway.”
“He’s not my nephew, you freak. He’s a hedgehog in hibernation in your mam’s hot press because you and my sister have issues with taking in strays.”
“Whatever you say, lad. See you later for the beach trip, baby mama.”
Snickering, I held up a hand and waved at his retreating frame. “See you later, baby daddy.”
“Why do that?” Hugh demanded, tone resigned. “Why encourage the crazy?”
“Because I love his crazy.” I laughed, still grinning from ear to ear. “And so do you.”
“Yeah, and I’d love his crazy an awful lot more if it didn’t involve spending time in my baby sister’s bedroom,” Hugh grumbled. “Come on, Claire, I know you have it bad for him, but make smart choices here, will you?”
“Make smart choices?” I asked and then laughed in his face. I couldn’t help it. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and Gibs and your warped little sleepover club.”
“Oh my God, I loved those books,” I chimed in with a smile. “I had the entire collection when we were kids, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember; now back to the real-life sleepovers,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, there’s a reason Mam and Sadhbh put a stop to them when we left primary school.”
“Tried to put a stop to them,” I corrected with a snort. “And failed.”
“Come on, Claire,” he growled impatiently. “You know what can happen in the heat of the moment.”
“The heat of the moment?” I laughed. “What moment?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped, flustered. “Whatever moments you and him have when you’re alone.”
I arched a brow. “Meaning?”
“Sex.”
“Oh my God,” I laughed. “You’re so funny.”
“Funny?” His eyes widened to saucers. “Sex isn’t funny.”
“No, sex isn’t funny,” I agreed with a snicker. “But you are.”
“Two words, Claire,” he shot back, “Joey and Aoife.”
“That’s three words.”
“Fine,” he countered, not missing a beat. “Here’s two words for you: teen pregnancy. Have you seen the girl lately? She looks like she’s ready to pop.” His eyes bulged for emphasis. “If it can happen to Joey Lynch, it can happen to any one of us.”
“Not me.” I smiled sweetly up at him. “Because I don’t possess a penis.”
“Yeah, well, your pillow pal certainly does.”
“Hugh,” I said as calmly as I could, while I tried to wipe the smile from my face in order to comfort my big dope of a brother, “I promise Gerard and I are just friends. Same as always.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, not sounding one bit comforted. “Friends that’ve been getting awfully close since Cap left for tour back in June.”
“We’ve always been close.”
“True, but it’s been different this summer, and you know it,” he pushed, and I couldn’t deny the hint of concern in his voice – or his eyes. “Come on, Claire. I’m not thick. I can see it, same as everyone else, and contrary to popular belief, I’m not trying to control your life. I’m just … I know Gibs better than anyone, and he … and you … ” He shook his head and blew out a breath before adding, “Look, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Hugh was right about one thing.
It was different this summer.
We were closer.
It was more.
“Why would I get hurt?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
“Because he’s fucked in the head.”
“Hugh!”
“Stop it. Don’t look at me like that. You know I love him like a brother,” he hurried to explain, looking flustered. “I would take a bullet for him, lay down my life for him in a heartbeat, but he’s damaged, Claire. I’m talking seriously damaged here. What happened to him when we were kids seriously screwed up his brain. He hasn’t been the same since he was seven and we both know it.”
Yeah, I knew it, but it wasn’t nice to hear it out loud.
“Oh my God, Hugh, stop, will you?” I shook my head in disgust. “Half of our friendship circle is damaged. That hasn’t stopped us being friends with any of them, has it?”
“Yeah, but you’re not just friends with Gibs,” he argued. “You’re in love with him.”
“So?” I’d given up denying it a long time ago. Besides, I was a terrible liar. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’re not damaged,” he urged, tone laced with sincerity. “And I don’t want that to change.”
“And you think it will?” I pushed, folding my arms across my chest. “If I get too close to Gerard?”
“I’m afraid of what could happen if he gives in and it gets too deep and goes too far,” he admitted, brown eyes locked on mine. “I’m afraid of the aftermath, Claire.”
His words rattled me in a way they never had before.
Because I could hear the concern in his tone.
It was genuine.
It was valid.
But his warning would fall on deaf ears because I had a Gerard Gibson-sized blind spot on my heart.
I decided to throw my brother an olive branch by saying, “Would it make you feel better if I told you that I have never seen or touched Gerard’s penis for sexual reasons?”
“What? No, Claire,” Hugh groaned, looking thoroughly disturbed. “That wouldn’t make me feel better at all … ” He shook his head before quickly backpedaling, “Hold up, so that means you have?”
“Uh … maybe?” I chuckled sheepishly, unable to stop my mind from wandering back to a particularly strange interaction I’d shared with Gerard’s ladder last Easter.
“Are you alone?” Gerard asked when he hobbled into my bedroom, kitted out in our town’s rugby team kit – muddy boots and all. “There’s no one else in here?” He looked around nervously, all the while covering his crotch with his hands. “No evil viper lurking behind a door with a knife in hand, waiting for the opportunity to take me out?”
“No, Gerard, I’m all alone,” I laughed, still flipping through the pages of my favorite weekly magazine subscription. “Why are you back from the game early?” I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. “Did you get sent off again?”
“Yes, but I sent myself off this time,” he explained, as he hobbled comically towards me.
“Care to explain why?”
“Because your brother couldn’t protect a paper bag in a goddamn maul, that’s why,” he huffed. “Listen, what I’m about to show you is really bad, and I apologize in advance for the nightmares I’m about to unleash on you, but I’m in real danger of dying here, Claire-Bear.” He sank down on my bed beside me, only to grunt in pain and spring back up. “As in fully dead with no comeback.”
“Why?” I laughed, pulling myself into a sitting position. “What did you do?”
“It’s my dick,” he admitted in a pained tone. “Actually, it’s my ladder.”
“Your ladder?” My eyes widened. “Your dick is a ladder?”
“No, no, no,” he groaned, gingerly lowering himself down on the mattress this time. “It’s the ladder on my dick.”
“Okay.” I shook my head. “I am so confused right now.”
“Listen to me; I pierced my dick, it’s called a Jacob’s ladder, and some prick from the other team kicked me square in the nuts during the game,” he said in a big whoosh. “I’m hurt, and I mean seriously hurt, Claire-Bear. We’re talking ‘Tom’s down, and Dick and Harry are missing in action’ kind of hurt.”
“Oh my God.” My eyes widened in horror as I tried to make sense of the crazy spilling from his lips. “You did what?”
“Can you check it for me?” he asked, grimacing in discomfort. “And not in a ‘I’m trying to get you to put it in your mouth’ kind of way,” he hurried to add. “More of a ‘I really fucking love my dick and I don’t want to get sepsis like Kav’ kind of way?”
“Gerard!”
“Please, Claire,” he begged, clutching his stomach then. “You know I can’t cope with blood and if there’s blood down there then I’m going to pass out.”
“You can’t cope with blood? What about me?” I squealed, scrambling onto my knees in anticipation, as some sick wave of morbid curiosity washed over me. “What if it scares me? Oh God, what if I vomit? You know I hate vomiting.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Claire, it might scare you, and we could both vomit,” he confirmed grimly, “but you’re my best friend and I would do it for you in a heartbeat.”
Dammit, that was true.
All jokes aside, if the shoe was on the other foot and I was stupid enough to pierce my genitals, he would help me. “Okay, okay, fine!”
“Thank you,” he sighed in relief. “Okay, if it’s bad don’t tell me. Just go outside and call an ambulance.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to ask one of the boys to check it for you?” I asked in a much calmer tone than I was feeling. “You wouldn’t feel more comfortable with Hugh or Johnny, or—”
“No,” he choked out. “Jesus no. It can only be you.”
He looked at me uncertainly. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I confirmed with a determined nod. Climbing off the bed, I dropped to my knees in front him and reached for the waist of his shorts. “I’m ready.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he choked out, batting my hands away as he squirmed in discomfort, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Gerard, come on, don’t be a baby. You’re in pain and need to get this ladder inspected,” I urged, reaching for his shorts again. “Just be brave and take off your underpants.”
“It’s not a ladder right now, babe,” he groaned, hands settling on the elastic waistband of his shorts. “The minute I saw you in those shorts, it turned into a full-blown fire-escape stairwell.”
I grinned up at him. “It did?”
His eyes widened in horror. “Focus, Claire!”
“Okay, okay, let’s not panic here.” Rolling my shoulders, I sucked in a steadying breath and reached for his waistband again. This time, he let me. “Don’t worry, Gerard. My mam’s a nurse,” I added, as I carefully lowered his shorts and underpants. “Medicine is in my genes. I can absolutely help you with … oh my God!”
“What, what?” Gerard demanded, keeping a hand clamped over his eyes. “There’s blood, isn’t there? I broke it, didn’t I?” He wailed loudly. “Oh Jesus, is it bad? Tell me it isn’t bad? Is the piercing still there?”
“Uh … ” My eyes widened to saucers when his fully erect ladder sprang free. “There’s no blood.” I crouched lower to get a good look at the underside of his genitals. “Oh, yeah, there it is.”
“What?” he demanded, tone frantic, eyes still covered. “What’s there?”
“The silver bar,” I explained, leaning in closer to get a better look at it. “Wow. It’s, ah –” Blowing out a shaky breath, I looked up at him and grinned. “It looks a lot different to what I’d pictured in my head.”
“Bad different?”
“No, not bad different,” I mused, pleasantly surprised. “It’s like a trunk.”
“Jesus!”
“Aren’t willies weird, Gerard?”
*
“You’ve touched his dick?” Hugh bellowed, dragging me back to the present. “What the fuck?”
My cheeks flamed and I scurried over to my dressing table, busying myself with readjusting the photos of friends that I had tacked to the mirror. When my eyes locked on the blue rosette tacked onto the corner of my mirror with the words Brian, Best in Show 2005, 1st place, I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading.
“In my defense, I only used my pinky finger,” I said, turning my attention back to my agitated-looking brother. “And it was purely for medical purposes.”
“Medical purposes?” Hugh’s face turned a scary shade of purple. “Claire!”
“What?” I defended, squirming in sheepish discomfort. “Do you know how serious it can be when someone’s ladder gets injured?”
“What in the name of Jesus does that even … you know what, forget it. I don’t want to know,” he groaned, clutching his stomach, as he stomped towards my bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll be in the toilet with my head in the bowl when you’re ready.”
