The stranger – John-Francis – didn’t falter, just smiled at me over his shoulder.
“Nice ta meet ya, Ronan.”
I watched him disappear into the darkness before the toilet door swung closed behind him. I sighed, puffing out my cheeks as I gazed at my reflection.
“Nice ta meet ya, too,” I muttered.
Chapter Three
John-Francis
No sooner had my eyes opened than Ronan was on my mind. I had a banging headache, and I felt sick as a pig, hungover to shite, and yet a grin worked its way onto my face.
I hadn’t expected to see that cute fucker again, but I made a resolution that he wouldn’t be getting away from me twice. The lingering eye contact we’d made outside the pub that first night had lit a fire inside me. When he’d made a show of eye-fucking me a second time, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to resist. It turned out my new friend had taken little to no persuasion either.
Ronan was like me, and he had done what we’d done before, that much was clear. It was always a thrill whenever I crossed paths with another fella who shared myinclination,never mind one that was such a fucking ride. Ronan was hot as all hell, and I couldn’t deny I was eager for a repeat performance.
It was hot inside my caravan and fighting through a wave of nausea, I struggled up onto my knees and cracked open a few windows. The fresh summer air helped a little, though I took my time getting dressed, keen not to risk spewing. The horse fair was in full swing today and I’d be damned if I missed out because of a hangover.
Once I’d choked down a bottle of water, I hopped down from the caravan, locked up, and made my way over to the toilet block to shower off any evidence of last night. Once I was dried and dressed, I made a beeline for Declan’s place. I knocked once, then twice… By the third time, I was hammering my first firmly against his door until I eventually got a response.
“Feckin’ give it a rest!”
“I’llgive ya a feckin’ rest, y’prick,” I muttered, hitting the door again. “Get y’lazy arse outta ya bed.”
I heard movement from inside and I stepped back, narrowly missing being hit by the door as a pale and angry Declan opened it.
“The fuck d’ya want?” he grumbled.
He was in bits too, that much was certain. Despite myself, I felt a smirk creeping onto my face. “Ah, sure, y’look ‘bout as grand as I feel, boyo.”
Declan didn’t respond, but when he stepped back inside, I took his silence as an invitation and clambered up into the caravan behind him.
“I feel like feckin’ shite,” Declan muttered, flopping down on his bed.
“Aye, y’not alone, but y’gotta get it together,” I replied, looking around. It was dark and dingy, curtains still drawn and shite everywhere. “The fair is up and runnin’. We can’t be missin’ out, now.”
There was a moment of silence, and I knew Declan was wrestling with himself. If he thought he was getting out of the fair after we’d come all this way, he had another thing coming. Thankfully, he saw sense.
“Fine. I need t’ grab a shower an’ hope I don’t bring up me ringpiece on the way over there,” he groaned.
“Ah, that bad now, fella?” I chuckled. “Tol’ ya y’shoulda taken that line I offered.”
Declan simply gave me the finger before pushing up out of bed and grabbing some fresh clothes and a towel. As soon as Declan was gone, I opened the curtains, made up the bed, and cracked a window. I wasn’t about to be cleaning up after my mate like a wee housemaid, but I couldn’t stand sitting here in the stink and the dark for a moment longer. Thankfully, I wasn’t left waiting for long and soon enough Declan made a reappearance, washed and dressed.
“Feckin’ kip it is in here, fella,” I muttered. “Y’need t’ get yourself a wife t’ keep this place tidy if ya not gonna do it yourself, y’lazy bastard.”
“I will, yeah,” he replied sarcastically.
I slapped him playfully across the back of the head, knowing what sort of reaction that was likely to incite from my hot-headed friend. Declan laughed, grabbing hold of my collar and hauling me out of the caravan.
“Don’t y’be gettin’ handsy wi’ me, John-Francis. Let’s not forget who put y’on ya arse every time we boxed as kids now,” Declan shouted, shoving me playfully.
“Aye, but now I got a good stone on ya!” I lunged for him, not at all surprised when he evaded me.
“Of feckin’ flab, not muscle y’fat langer,” Declan teased.
At that, I laughed. “Feckin’ cheeky cunt!”
