Chris and Nigel
Book 2, Chapter 10 - The Chips are Down
By It's Only Me from Across the Sea
This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.
The story is copyright 2001 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://iomfats.org present, and also the email address of its_onlyme@iomfats.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
Oh we didn't need Barnsley. Awesome. On fire. Tense, yet relaxed. Nigel inside me, so wet, not relaxed yet, not limp. Nigel's seed inside me. Nigel's scent in my nostrils. Sweat, and that smell of sex; boys' sex, a scent I never knew before Nigel.
I was no boy any more. I wasn't a boy that day; I was boy no longer. Man? Not yet. But more of a man than anyone I knew, except my lover, except my Nigel. And my Nigel was towering over me still, locked elbows stopping him from crushing me, his eyes locked on mine.
And I was still rock hard.
No, that's not true. I wasn't still hard. I was hard again. While he was possessing me the pleasure, the pain, was so exquisite, so intense, that I'd lost hardness. Hadn't lost sensation, but I'd felt myself go soft. It was his orgasm that straightened my manhood. That made me strain to touch my cock with my own hands. It was his electricity searing into my brain that made me hard again. And I needed two major things right then.
I needed release. I needed a shattering release. I had to have it. Animal sex. Nigel was deep inside me, filling my senses, impressing his own urgency on me, yet somehow peaceful. And I needed him to release me.
And, even wanting him inside me, however hard I wanted him to be there, I began to need him either to take me over the cliff edge to release, or to be out of me.
"Please, Nigel. Please."
"What, my love?" His voice was unsteady, trembling, breathless, but gentle, too.
"If it's yours, Nigel, make it now. Please?" I was begging; my eyes were begging; my body was begging. "I'm yours. All yours. Make it now? Please make it now?" Pinned under him, impaled on him, I was trying to will his hands, or will his mouth to take me, to release me.
"It's mine." He smiled with his mouth and his eyes. The candlelight was caught in his eyes and they glowed down at me. "I love you, Chris. Not sex, but love"
"Please? I can't wait... I need you to make me... "
"You're half my property, Chris. Just half."
I was confused. "What d'you mean?"
"That was your half. This is my half. I'm going to drive you crazy. Totally crazy."
"I'll like it?" His eyes showed something I hadn't seen before that day. Power. Not brutal, but soft, relentless power. I was nervous. No, I was apprehensive. I was almost in orbit already, and he was still only half way finished. "I don't need pain again, Nigel?"
"I know, pet. I know. This isn't pain. But I'll own the other half when I've finished. It is what you want?" It wasn't really a question
I was harder, if anything, than I'd ever been before. Rock hard. The droop had let my foreskin cover the head and it hadn't withdrawn by itself when I got hard again. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. But I could feel the skin tight on the tip, needing to be touched. I felt I was about to burst, but knew I had a way to go before I could.
Softly, gently, I felt him ease from my body. I felt him withdraw himself and felt strangely content to be empty again. I could almost feel his absence as a presence. And I felt the bed move as he sat beside me where I lay. And felt his hands touch my shaft and pull the skin down to reveal the head. I watched as it popped free of its hiding place, and felt the touch of his palm on the glistening head underneath.
Slippery, not dry.
Amazing.
Circular movements of his palm.
Not fast, not slow. Steady, constant circles. Slippery circles.
Not just on the top, but he moved round the entire head. One hand held the shaft at the angle he wanted, and the other just circled and circled.
Very gentle.
"Harder! Please harder!"
"No, Chris. Not harder, not faster. My way, my speed. The first half was tough for me to do. I watched your face. It hurt you. I heard you scream. The second half I'm going to make you scream a different way. I want to hear you beg to be allowed to cum."
"I'm begging now! Bastard!" My voice wasn't harsh, though. It was awesome. Amazing. A well of pure pleasure from deep inside me. Slowly climbing the slopes to where the cliff fell away, to where ecstasy lay. The emptiness made me twitch and strain to tense my buttocks to make it happen faster, to try to build the intensity that he was refusing to accelerate. If I tried really hard I could feel him inside me again in my mind.
Writhing, legs wriggling to make it more intense, knees grinding together, trying to make it hotter, harder, more intense. Nothing worked. It just built long and slow.
"Faster, Nigel, please faster! I need to cum now! Now! I can't wait any longer. This is killing me."
"No."
"Bastard." I tried to move my hands to take over from him. Desperate to finish the job, needing the release, any release.
"Don't. It's mine."
My hands dropped back. I grabbed the edges of the mattress, one edge in each hand, and held on tight. "I'm begging, Nigel. I have to cum."
"Soon, my love. Soon." His rhythm didn't alter by a metronome beat. "I want you to spurt into my hand, want to feel the pressure force my hand away. And I'm going to drive you crazy."
"You are." I was gasping with the effort of tensing my muscles. After the mega fucking he'd given my I could hardly use my muscles, but he was making me tense them, driving me to tense them, forcing me to use every trick I knew to make my body cum. And the ache was growing inside me. My knuckles must have been white on the mattress, I was gripping so hard. And I was bucking my body against his hand to get little extra jolts of pleasure from him, little electric shocks, all building to orgasm.
And still slippery, precum mixed with lube made the friction so small, so slight, that it seemed to take for ever to climb another yard of the hill I always climbed as I reached the moment of orgasm. So slick, so slippery and so persistent, the movements were driving me crazy. My hands were struggling to stay away. I needed to grab my cock and finish what he'd started, what he was doing, what he was making me wait for.
"Don't you dare touch yourself." He'd seen me move my hands towards his and he'd interrupted. It was a command. A total command. Eyes calm, voice gentle, and totally in control. "If you have to move your hands, grab the mattress tighter. Pretend your hands are tied up."
"I don't like the idea of being tied up."
"Just pretend. Make like you can't move your hands at all."
I pretended. I gripped each edge of the mattress hard and arched my back to try to press against his palm. I needed to cum. "Please... Make me cum now. Let me cum. Please... "
No answer. Just the steady swirling of his palm round and round on the sensitive tip. I was sure it was twice or three times the size it normally was. It felt huge under his ministering hands, the one gently holding the shaft firm, and the other inexorably rubbing round, round, round on it. My eyes were tight shut. I was trying so hard to break free and to reach the cliff edge at the hilltop and fall over into orgasm. Trying to build the intense sensations into the start of a tensing of muscles and a huge release. Trying. Using every subtle pressure of his hands to my advantage, or trying to. "Open your eyes, Chris."
I opened them. His face was smiling at me. It was so intense. "Now! Please. Oh you bastard, let me cum now! Please let me cum? Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" the scream was a moment of intense sensation as he slid his hand hard and long over my cockhead.
"Beg me."
"I'm begging. Oh Nigel I'm begging you. It's too much. Too much. I don't think I can stand it. I'm going to explode. You'll burst my dick. Oh God, Nigel let me cum. Make me cum. Please make me cum now." Between each word I was gasping for air. Gasping and groaning. "Now. Please, Nigel, please do it now.
His eyes were smiling. "You're sure?"
"Now! Yes I'm sure. Bastard, I hate you." I didn't. but right then I half did. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" Straight after the words came out he did the long hard rub again. "Bastard!" I was sweating, soaking the sheets with my sweat.
"You hate me, do you? Maybe I should carry on, just a little while longer?"
"No. God no. Now, Nigel, please now." My hands were still gripping the edge of the bed tightly. Please make it now! Please!"
"You don't hate me, then?"
"Yes, I fucking do! Right now I hate you. Make me cum, let me cum. Please Nigel... " I was screaming. If you haven't felt the sheer agony of being stroked like that you wouldn't realise what it was like. Almost terrifying. Totally in his control, but voluntary. I could have moved if my muscles had been working under my control instead of straining to reach an elusive orgasm.
"OK."
Only nothing changed.
Nothing
He still kept his rhythm up, rubbing his slick wet hand across and round the tip of my cock. Just rubbing.
And then, as my eyes closed and I tried to prepare myself for a long agonising time, I was engulfed by his mouth. Tongue pushing and licking my cockhead, and suction like I'd never felt before. And his hands driving between my thighs into the wet, almost open, receptive cave where he'd possessed me. And his finger, no fingers, pushing inside and forward probing, reaching, straining to find that spot. Ecstasy. Agony all gone and replaced by his mouth and his fingers working their old magic.
It took me by surprise.
Very, very fast he pulled me with his mouth to the cliff edge, and with his fingers inside me he threw me over and fired my seed into his mouth. Once, twice, three times I bucked and reared into his mouth. Many times. So often I could not longer think, no longer breathe. Spent and past spent, I came and came and came. And when I thought it couldn't end, he sucked me dry, pumping the last droplets out with his fingers inside me.
I heard someone yelling. Heard them faintly through a mist. Recognised the voice. Couldn't place it quite. Knew it couldn't be Nigel because his mouth was full. My voice. Loud. Long and loud. And breathless. No ability to breathe. No hope of coherent thought, let alone words.
Sweat.
Soft hands stroking my chest
Soft breath on my face as his lips brushed my cheek.
"Now, Christopher Jenkins, now I own you. Completely and totally. And you own me, too, Chris. You always have."
I was starting to get my breath back. "That was amazing. I hated you in the middle of that."
"Yeah, I know. I saw your face." He paused. "Was it what you wanted, Chris? I tried very hard to imagine what you needed. I wasn't too rough?" His face showed concern rather than worry.
"No. yes. I mean, no, you weren't too rough. Yes it was what I needed most in the whole world. And you went even further and blew my mind."
"I thought it was your dick I blew?" His eyes were sparkling, his mouth grinning like an idiot.
"Stupid boy! It was. But you drove me crazy first." I was looking at him, turning my head to see the boy who owned me. Smiling eyes, almost puppyish in their need to please me, tousled hair all sweaty, long and silky. Candlelight reflected in his eyes. How I loved him. "You make me ache, just looking at you. Nigel I love you so much." I didn't know about love. Not really. Not before I knew Nigel. Carol had been different. She drifted into my mind as a gentle comfort at odd times. This was one of them. It was a comfy feeling, knowing that Carol would always be my friend, and that she could understand that I needed Nigel. A hard thought to express properly; my brain always fogged over when I tried to put it into words. Somehow she arrived in my mind when my thoughts for Nigel were at their very strongest. I was glad she had John now. I know I loved her. I knew I would always love her. But it wasn't the love that my future was made of. It was more than the love of a sister, as if I knew what that was, and different from the love of a partner. I sighed contentedly.
"Penny for them?" Nigel was stroking my chest with is fingertips.
"I was miles away."
"I know. Where were you?"
"Thinking how lucky I am," I sighed, smiling at him. "Thinking how I might never have known what love was if you hadn't been brave enough, mad enough, to show me." I decided not to mention Carol.
"Of all the ways I could have chosen," he grinned, "I chose the one with the most scope to go wrong. I'm the lucky one, you know."
"How so?"
"If you'd not... Well, if you'd... What I mean is, if it had gone pear shaped, you wouldn't have been the one to suffer. I'd have felt like dying, and I'd have died without knowing what it would have been like to be loved. And that would have been too horrible to think about. I think I'd have killed myself." He looked serious.
"Shh. It isn't important now. You showed me who I am, and I love you." And I snuggled into his arms and put mine around him.
I think we dozed for a while. Not long, but a while. Those weird dreams you get when you relax totally went through my head. I didn't recall anything about them when the coolness as the sweat dried woke me. It was probably only ten minutes or so, but I was suddenly ravenously hungry. Nigel stretched as I eased gently from him. He looked luxurious, like a cat. I could almost hear him purring. He looked so beautiful lying beside me, all naked except for his bracelet. Or was it my bracelet.
"You're looking at me," he said.
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Because I like looking at you. I was trying to think how to wake you, but I didn't want to disturb you."
"I wasn't asleep."
"Yeah, and I'm the Pope."
"You aren't even catholic!"
"My point exactly. But what I am is hungry. And I can smell whatever it is that your Mum left in the oven for us." It was wafting up the stairs. A gentle mix of the savoury smell of slow cooked onions and meat. "It smells good and I'm starving."
"Mum said seven o'clock it'd be ready. What time is it now?"
"About ten to, I think." I could see his bedside clock, in the candlelight. "Spuds, she said."
"Dunno about you, but I can't be bothered to peel spuds. Bread and butter suit you?"
"Perfectly. I hate spuds."
So we got up, cut bread and butter, and ate. Bowls seemed the best. Great big bowls like you use for main course salads. And slabs of bread and thick butter. It was chicken, and onions and red and yellow peppers and tomatoes and mushrooms and loads of soup round it. There was lots. We ate lots. Washed down with coke. And all the while we were eating I could look at my lover and know how much he meant to me. Tousled silver blond hair, sweat streaked face, and those eyes of purest blue that could look into my soul and know what I was thinking.
"We could put the TV on. Or get a video. Mum's left her Video Cabin membership card here. Or go into town and go to the flicks. Or anything you want," he said.
"Mmm." I felt lazy. Non-committal. "Can't think of any videos I want to see."
"Nor me. I just want to show you off, kind of. Feels daft now I've said it. Somehow I want to walk with you in the fresh air and show you off."
"Not daft, not really. Hey, I know. Bowling. Ten pin bowling. I haven't been for ages."
"I don't think we'll get a lane. But we can go and look if you like"
"Ice cream first?"
"I'm stuffed." He collapsed into giggles. "Or I hope I will be later!"
"Oh you will be. Believe me you will be. I have something in mind I want to try. Applied geometry." I grinned. I did. I had a plan for something I thought might be at best difficult, and at worst impossible. "Wait and see!" I told him as his eyes widened in a question.
"Spoilsport." He was still giggling. "Do I trust you?"
"Still wait and see. Anyway it may not work."
The night wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. We planned to walk into town. It really wasn't far, and we had all night to ourselves. So we got fleeces to keep the night out, and set off. It was already dark, and the old fashioned street lamps were sending their pools of light with great gaps of darkness between them. It wasn't wintry enough to have killed the flying creatures off yet, and moths were killing themselves flying into the exposed bulbs. We weren't brave enough to hold hands. One day, but not then. Mind you, the way home would be quiet enough? I hoped so.
We just talked and talked on the way into town. Plans for the future, plans for the present. Made fun of people's front gardens, all that sort of stuff. We talked about how we'd set up home together, too. A flat to start with. Two bedrooms so we could have visitors to stay, a water bed. A bath large enough for both of us with a jacuzzi in it. "I expect you want gold taps," Nigel smiled at me in the streetlight.
"Of course! With dolphins on them. I like Dolphins." I did, too. I'd been to Windsor Safari Park with Mum and Dad and we'd seen the dolphins there. I know it sounds daft, but I think that may have been the first time I ever fell in love. There was something so special about seeing the dolphins just looking back at me. I felt like crying when I saw them first. Not because of the captivity, but just because they were so beautiful.
We walked on and the traffic beside us became busier as we got nearer the town centre. The bowling alley was the other side, past the clocktower, and out by the cinema complex. We headed through the town. Quite quiet, really. The shops had shut ages ago, and the only people about were going to or from the three pubs, or just hanging around. No-one we knew was around. We walked beside the clocktower. It seemed ages ago that we'd been there with Carol and John. Almost a lifetime. I thought back to proving to John that we were a couple, not just mates. Today it seemed so ridiculous. Then it had almost been a matter of life and death.
"I suppose kissing each other here again is out of the question?" It was, of course. I was teasing.
"I reckon it is. Later, maybe, but I'm not brave enough today!" He walked a little closer to me, though. Shoulders touching, my right and his left. Funny, he always seemed to walk at my right hand side. I was sort of used to him there. It was like his rightful place, somehow.
"D'you remember those first days in France?" My mind was into nostalgia, suddenly.
"Remember? Dickhead." He grinned at me. "How could I forget?" God I was so scared that first night."
"I was terrified. Remember dragging me to the sea that morning, so early, making me run? Making me forget everything bad and start to see what was real?" Damn, I had a tear starting down my cheek, just from remembering. "And dragging me into the water?"
"I remember." He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand as we walked, as though he knew it was wet. "Hey, your cheek's wet."
"Yeah, well," I mumbled. "I was just remembering, and it felt good. So my eyes decided to leak. S'OK."
"Mine do that, too. When it feels good then sometimes I feel all soft inside. They never used to. Not until you... "
"Not until I what?"
"Well, not until you let me be yours. Not until we became lovers. Not until you said you loved me."
I sighed. Comfortable. "I got like that the first time you took me in your arms. I felt safe for the first time in my life. I mean I didn't not feel safe before. It was just, well, oh heck, safe." I felt daft suddenly. "I mean I didn't feel like crying then or anything. I felt how strong you were, and how small I was, sort of. And you made me feel powerful. Your arms made me feel good. Only you were a boy. And it got very confusing."
We'd got to the bowling alley. Bright purple lights. Gaudy, brash colours. Loud music from the theme pub next door. Two heavies on the door of the pub to keep undesirables out. Heck, they looked more undesirable than anyone they might scare away. Nigel led on into the complex.
There's an unmistakable smell about bowling alleys. Feet and fast food. And that weird empty, hollow sound of the balls as they roll along the lanes or bump into the gutters. Pins falling, people cheering. Background music almost irrelevant. Excited kids, too. Still early enough at night for a couple of lanes to have the bumpers in the gutters for a couple of family parties. They're oddly plastic places. We joined the queue to see if we could get a lane.
And found out fifteen minutes later that we couldn't. Well, not until nearly midnight, anyway.
We were too late for the cinema, too, and had no hope of getting into the pub. "Wanna see who's here, Chris? May be someone to hang out with... "
"Not really." I was thinking that if we couldn't get a game, then maybe I had a game we could play. "I kind of just want to be with you."
"Yeah. Long walk for nothing, though." He looked disappointed.
"What's wrong?"
"You'll think I'm stupid."
"Try me."
"Well, it is stupid in a way."
"What?" We'd walked over to a table, near one of the food outlets. "Just tell me."
"It's just that I want to be on a date with you. I mean on a proper date. To be out with you and feel I can touch you and hold your hand, and even kiss you. I don't just want to be 'mates' in public. I want to be your boyfriend in public. I want to be able to be myself, to show you that I love you. I mean I've never done it, obvious, really, but I want to go out to a posh restaurant and look into your eyes across a candlelit table."
"And that's the same as just hanging out here?" I looked at him quizzically. I knew it wasn't. he knew I knew it wasn't.
"You know that isn't what I mean."
"Yeah. I do." I did. "I want to do all that, too. Only I don't quite feel brave enough."
"Nor me."
"We should go home. To your home. We can be who we are there. And I can take you in my arms and make it all right."
"I don't want to go home yet. Not even to be in your arms. Not even to be made love to, nor kissed. I want to be free. Free!" He wasn't shouting, but his voice had an edge to it. Not directed at me, but at the world. And I wanted it too. And I didn't know how to help him. Not in public. In private I would have held him and kissed him. But in the bowling alley? Not a chance.
"Let's get some air, then. Out of here at least." It felt as plastic and artificial as it looked inside the complex. I needed to get outside whether Nigel did or not.
"Yeah." His eyes weren't as bright as usual, and he felt, well, sluggish.
I wanted to grab his hand and drag him outside with me. Only I couldn't. But at least we were heading out. I remember dimly seeing a group from our year at one of the lanes that we passed to reach the exit. Hadn't noticed them on the way in. Even so there were too many of them to join, and they weren't mates as such. Just kids in the same year. And tonight I felt so old, suddenly. I tried over cheerfulness. "Come on, slowcoach!" Dammit Nigel was meant to be the strong one.
"I'm sorry," he said as we got outside. "I'm so proud to be your boyfriend, to be your fiancé, to be married to you, to be your lover. And it feels so wonderful and so normal. But people won't see it as normal. Or they may pretend it's normal. I just want to shout from the rooftops that we're a couple."
"If you want to that badly, I mean really want to, I could be brave enough." I was lying. The idea was terrifying.
"I don't think I could be. Not even if you really could. We'd get crapped on in a big way at school. Social Services would get involved. We'd be taken into care and stuff. Separated. No. Not yet. Not until we're at least sixteen. Probably until we're both eighteen. It isn't that long, not really."
I was relieved. Very relieved. I'd known that he wouldn't. But I had to support him in case. "I love you." It was a simple set of words. But it meant everything. I felt his hand brush mine. Back of his to the back of mine. I dared. Just briefly I grabbed it and squeezed. It was dark enough where we were. We'd got away from the glare of the entrance He squeezed back.
"I love you, too." He took his hand away gently. "I think that's the point. I mean it's just love. Why should they all care that we love each other? Why is it so threatening? Why can't we love the person we love without someone criticising us? If you were a girl it would be fine."
"If I were a girl you wouldn't want me." I was smiling at him.
"Christopher Jenkins you are so aggravating at times." He was smiling back.
"Hungry as well as aggravating. Fancy a bag of chips?"
"You couldn't? Not after that huge supper."
"I could. Just chips. No fish. I'll treat you. I've got enough cash."
"A big bag? You couldn't."
"Could."
"I challenge you."
"Only if you have one too."
"Hmm."
"What d'ya mean 'Hmm'?" I was laughing. "You can't do it!"
"I can." His eyes were bright again, challenging me.
"Loser buys the chips."
"Deal."
"Right. The biggest portions are at The Golden Plaice. Still game?"
"Easy."
"OK, Golden Plaice it is." And I led the way. It was at the end of the town towards the bus station. Well, I say 'bus station'. What I meant was the place where the busses waited for a while, only to leave just before you could catch them.
There was a queue of about ten people in front of us when we got in through the door. And that warm smell of hot fat, frying fish, vinegar, and something impossible to identify that always made fish and chips special. We spent a while teasing each other about being able to eat a whole bag. Not really surprising. These bags held about three large spuds' worth of chips. Not cheap, but awesome value. The queue filled up behind us as we moved slowly forward. We needed something to wash it down, too.
"Irn Bru?" Nigel suggested.
"Sounds OK. Yeah. Two cans of Irn Bru it is."
"Yeah, goes with our macho, chip eating image!" He put on a swagger. Damned hard to do when standing in a queue, but he managed, all the way to the counter. And then ordered.
"Salt and vinegar?" he was asked by the girl serving.
He opted for both. "Lots please. And could we have them open, please?"
We paid, and started to leave the shop. Just outside the door we bumped into Jill and Gavin. He was in our year, she was in the one below. I barely knew her. Knew him quite well. He was pretty much in the lower half of the class, except for geography, where he beat most of us hollow.
"Hi, you two!" Gavin looked happy. I wasn't surprised. Jill was very pretty. Same league for looks as Carol, but a little younger.
"Hiya." He wasn't a particular friend exactly. Just someone I knew from class, and breaktimes.
"You guys seem to be hanging around a lot this term," Gavin said, not to either one of us in particular. "Since you split with Carol, that is, Chris."
"True," I said. This type of stuff made me so nervous. I absently picked at a chip or two. "We were roomies on the French trip, got on pretty well. Want a chip?" I offered the wrapper to him.
"Just going to get some, thanks."
"Romantic dinner for two?" Nigel was chuckling, trying to make him blush.
"Yep, cod and chips for two." Gavin was more than up to being teased. Or maybe was a bit thick and didn't realise that was what Nigel was doing. "Hey, didn't I see you in town earlier?"
"Yeah. We tried to get a lane at the bowling alley," I told him. "Failed, of course. Should have booked, but it was a spur of the moment thing. No free lanes until half past forever."
"No, I meant earlier earlier. Not earlier."
"Ah, right. Earlier earlier. Not earlier. Yes, of course. That'd be earlier than that then?" I was taking the piss too, now.
"Yes. Pillock. Earlier. Like not this evening."
"Don't think so." I truly couldn't even recall being in town earlier. I did soon enough, though.
"Yeah, in Smith's"
"Smith's?" I couldn't remember going into the stationers. I ate some more chips. I had a lot of chips to go. Mind you, seventy five pence was a small bet to lose if I failed! Well £1.50 really. Oh, plus the Irn Bru, coz the loser was to pay.
"The jewellers. You and Nigel. Both of you. And someone's parents I reckon. I'd been made to go shopping for shoes of all things, and I saw you both in Smith's."
Shit. I mean I don't know why I was worried suddenly. It made the mouthful of chips very hard to swallow. I found I was chewing mush over and over again. "I didn't notice the name. Yeah." How much had he seen, I wondered.
"Yeah. You came out of the door almost as soon as I saw you. Then ran off towards the car park. You went so fast I thought you'd nicked something! What were you doing?"
What were we doing? An interesting question. I wished I could say the truth. 'We were getting tokens to show that we're going to be married, Gavin.' That would have shocked him. Set the cat among the pigeons totally. And totally screwed us. "Shopping. Like you went for shoes." Wrong answer. As soon as I'd said it I knew it had been the wrong answer.
"Yes, but I wanted shoes for me. Well, I didn't. mum said I did, so I had to go. But this was a jewellers. So it wasn't like me."
Nigel came rushing to the rescue. He looked as though he was getting through the chips better than I was, too. "Nope. It wasn't. I wanted a bracelet. You know, one of those name things. So I got one."
"Let's see!" Gavin's eyes went to Nigel's arms. "I've got one, let's see what yours is like. Hey, Jill, come and have a look."
We were going to get away with it. We were. The truth was always a powerful weapon. Tell someone the truth, leaving out the parts you didn't want to talk about, and they believed what they wanted to hear. Yeah," I added. They're cool. I got one as well."
I was about to join in and show Gavin mine when I remembered something.
I remembered that the name on the bracelet on my wrist wasn't mine. It was Nigel's.
And I was about to show Gavin Nigel's name on my wrist, and Nigel was about to show him my name on his wrist.
And my blood started to run cold.
He'd guess. Or work it out. Or anything.
I was so nervous suddenly that I dropped my chips.
Oh yes. For those of you who are not British, "Irn Bru" is a canned fizzy drink, "Made in Scotland, from girders". It tastes, not unnaturally, like nothing else on earth. Irn Bru is Irn Bru. And if you are still at a loss about pronouncing it, try "iron brew".
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