Hi, here's the next chapter. It isn't as long as the others but it's a complete part.

Enjoy xx


Tuesday 15th May

John Paul

Part Nine

Walking through the village, I stop at Drive and Buy for a four finger Kit-Kat and a bottle of Sprite, my attention all the while diverted as I try and sort out in my head what I'll say to Craig when I see him...if I see him...no!, when I see him. Should I just say hello and start talking to him like I used to when we were mates, just ignore everything that's happened and carry on as normal or should I just be honest with him, mention that I got his calls but that I simply didn't know how I should respond?

"Cheers Gilly" I take my change and the two items from the counter and head back out into the village, my thoughts still pre-occupied with my predicament. It seems like all too soon, I'm rounding the corner and faced with a familiar sight, one that starts the adrenalin in my body pumping through my system.

Approaching The Dog, I can feel the nervousness and apprehension building, the butterflies in my stomach kicking off into a frenzy when I see the black and cream Tudor style doorway of the pub. Stopping in my tracks, I take a step back until I'm half hidden by the foliage from a couple of the young spruce trees lining the outer edge of the pond. I just need another minute to decide, get things clear in my mind and then I'll go in. No really, I will.

God, what if he tells me to fuck off, that it's too late and he doesn't ever want to speak to me again? That'd be the worst thing ever. Then again, I might get lucky and he could be as excited to see me as I am to see him, especially after we saw each other yesterday. Alright so, he bolted yesterday, things could've gone better but he didn't look like he totally hates me either, did he? Still, the uncertainty makes me anxious.

I give it another minute, sitting down on the gentle incline of the embankment as I drink my bottle of pop and munch on the chocolate. Craig likes chocolate. No, he loves chocolate, maybe I should save the last couple of fingers so I've an excuse to carry on speaking to him if the conversation gets awkward? It might not be the grandest of gestures in the world but offering him a piece of the chocolate would be a definite ice-breaker. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I carefully wrap the last two sticks back inside the foil, trying not to melt them any more than they already are and finish off my drink, psyching myself up to go in there and just get it over with. Right then, that's it, no more stalling for time. I start pushing myself up but pause when I see the heavy black doors swing open and Craig stride out.

Oh God, he's still fucking gorgeous!

I sink back on the grassy knoll, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight any longer, the smack of desire and longing I feel at seeing him again hitting me like a kick to the solar plexus. I watch to see where he goes, surprised and elated when he stops at the picnic bench me and Spike sat at yesterday, just beneath and to the left of his bedroom window.

He drags his fingers across the top of the pale wood and then shakes his head, deep in thought, walking passed it to come to stand behind the thick, corded rope in front of the pond. He looks different, something in his appearance making my stomach clench with a need to touch him, my heart aching just to be near him, to get close enough to hold him and soothe away that sadness that seems to surround him. He looks tired, drained, like he's not getting enough sleep. I can't help wondering if it's the break-up with Sarah a few weeks ago or our ever present exams that has him looking so haggard. His hair is dishevelled, the usually glossy, dark strands somehow seeming lifeless and even from this distance, I can see how pale and drawn his face is, despite his cheeks, jaw and chin being covered in a sexy, dark shadow of stubble.

He's still beautiful, just...unkempt.

I'm just contemplating whether this really is the perfect time to approach him when I see him start fumbling within his jeans pocket, extracting something from inside. At first I assume it's his phone and I unconsciously take mine out too, glancing down at it, willing it to ring when I see Craig's nimble fingers handling the object. It's only when I see a spark and witness him holding it towards his face, his hands cupping around his mouth and then a billow of smoke leave his lips that I realise he's holding a pack of cigarettes and he's lit one.

Since when does Craig smoke? He fucking hates it, we both do. God, the number of times we've been walking through the park and he's commented on how unattractive he finds it when a girl smokes and how it must be like kissing an ashtray and now he's started. I have to admit though, it does make him look kind of edgy and sexy as hell. I can feel my dick stirring inside my jeans just from watching him as he flicks the ash from the tip and holds the base to his lips, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he takes another drag.

He's wearing one of his cardigans, the blue one with the thin white stripes, the loose fitting material shoved up over his forearms and hanging open over a white vest that's half tucked into a pair of snug, dark grey jeans, the contours of which accentuates his slim, lithe frame. I gasp aloud at the sight of him, hoping to God he doesn't hear me as I watch the soft cotton of the undergarment stretch across his torso, riding up provocatively to expose a tantalising glimpse of his midriff as he grasps hold of the rope and rocks back on his heels. As I continue looking at him standing there, he shifts position so he's bent forward, his elbows propped on one of the wooden stakes, his hands clasped tightly together, like he's in prayer. He continues to stand like that as minutes pass, except when he takes a drag of the cigarette. When he does that, his lean fingers hold the stick steady to his lips...lush, full lips that part provocatively to take the fag between them, sucking on the end, those mesmerising dark eyes of his that'd been staring into the pond, closing as he inhales.

I can't stop another groan of delight escaping me as I let my eyes wander over Craig, biting my lip to stop myself emitting another sigh of pleasure as I take in the way his bent at the waist posture emphasises the denim of his jeans as they mould themselves tightly to the backs of his thighs and his firm, rounded ass. He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips again and takes one last drag before flicking the butt into the pond, his eyes narrowing, a thin smile playing over his lips as he watches it arc its way upwards and then down towards the water.

He stands for another second or two and watches the ripples in the water before making his way over to the little jetty, settling himself down on the warm, bleached decking, letting his legs dangle over the end of the little wooden pier towards the water beneath.

He stares at the water for a while and I wonder if the time is right to make my presence known and go over there but I dismiss the notion when I see a group of people exit the pub, making his whole countenance change. He seems to become agitated, his whole body exuding a warning to keep away, the aloof, tense way he's holding himself pretty much warning anyone coming close to back off.

I must've already taken a tentative step forward though because he suddenly lifts his head and turns it towards me, his gaze seeming to zone in, locking on mine the second it lands on me. Shit! I must look like a startled rabbit because I just stand there for what feels like an eternity, frozen in place, as though my feet are pinned to the ground, staring back at him.

Oh God, I wish I was close enough to see what he was thinking, then maybe I'd have a clue what to do in my current situation. Right John Paul, man up, it's as simple as that. Licking my suddenly dry lips and inhaling a deep breath to compose myself, I take a step forward, raising my hand to chest height and waving it just once in his direction. Craig blinks and then frowns, drawing his knees up to his chest at the same time as he places his hand down on the jetty beside him, pressing his weight on it so he can swivel the top half of his body around to look back over his shoulder.

When he sees nothing behind him, he turns back towards me frowning, his facial expression and body language screaming wariness and something more, something deeper than that that I can't quite put my finger on. Almost like he's scared. Yeah, that's it, his whole demeanour is reminiscent of a startled rabbit surrounded by hounds but mixed with something else too that I just can't put my finger on. Something else flickers across his face and it's at that point that I realise what he's about to do next, even before he does. I might've anticipated his next action but that doesn't stop the physical and emotional jolt of pain I experience when he scrambles to his feet and bolts, dodging passed a young couple as they leave the pub, becoming completely obscured from my view as he pushes his way through the heavy wooden door.

I take off after him without a moments hesitation as the adrenalin in my body kicks in, my legs carrying me down the slope of the hill so fast that I almost slip, they can barely keep up with the momentum. I run all the way around the edge of the pond, breathless, my the feelings of doubt only kicking in once I've hit the stone flagging of the beer garden.

"Craig". I stop abruptly on the outer edge, clasping my hands behind me head as I think what to do, before dropping them to my sides in frustration, my gaze glued to the door the whole time, willing him to come back outside because there's no way in hell I'm brave enough to go in there.

He doesn't though and after a few minutes of waiting, I eventually I resign myself to that fact. Still, it's a few more minutes before I can actually get my limbs to move. Admitting defeat, I turn away from the pub and start walking home, grimacing when I stuff my hands in my pockets and my fingers encountering the soft, mashed up remnants of the Kit-Kat. Taking it out and un-peeling the foil from around it before tossing it in a bin, I can't help comparing the sticky chocolate to mine and Craig's friendship... an un-salvageable mess.


Thank you for reading x