| Reason 3 I can still feel Chino's hands on me. Bastard. That's why I've got the water scaldingly hot. That's why I'm ignoring the way my skin is going red. That's why I'm scrubbing away. That's why my eyes are welling up with hot tears. But I'm *so* not crying. I'm showering in my underwear, because Shaun says that's the best way to clean it. Wear the dirty ones in the shower, then put on clean ones when you get out and get dry. Plus, there's other people here, not just me and him, and I'm not exactly looking to give them a peep show here. I just wanna have a shower. That's all. I just wanna get rid of this terrible dirty feeling. "Last I heard, red skin wasn't that attractive" Shaun comments, reaching past me and turning on the cold water stronger so that my skin isn't burnt off. I scowl at him, "Yeah. And you would know". He cocks an eyebrow, but doesn't really look offended. We're at some hostel, showering, incase you haven't noticed, and Shaun looks damn fine in his boxers, all wet and all smiles, even though I've just insulted him. I think I like him because he reminds me of everyone, rolled up together. He looks like Elias, Vince and Dom would if you squished them all into one person. He's got Maricruz and Mia's caring streak. He looks out for me, like Marc. "Actually, I would know" he says, watching me as I pick up my razor off of the floor, where it was sitting next to my shampoo and conditioner. I came well prepared. Even though I'm planning on crashing with Pedro, I still want to know that I'm holding my own, y'know? I don't wanna feel like I'm bludging off my cousin. I like to know that I've worked for, that I've *earned* what I've got. I bend down to start shaving my legs, half expecting Shaun to be looking at my ass, when I realise that he has no reason to be. I guess I'm just used to guys being egotisticle, crude pigs. Shaun's not like that, though. I'm not sure if it's because he's gay, or because he's just...well, not like that. "Yer gonna cut yerself" Shaun says, watching my shakey hand holding the razor, rather than my ass or my cleavage, which is a nice and welcomed change. "Oh yeh?" I answer, and speed up, just to prove him wrong. Big ass mistake. Fucking hell, I hate cutting myself. Especially while I'm shaving, coz it hurts like hell and blood pisses out everywhere. I curse under my breath, because I've just broken the skin about an inch from my knee. Doesn't really hurt, but, like I said, it's pissing out with blood. "Here" Shaun says, and guides me to sit down, just out of the spray of water. I sit, and he sits facing me, so that his legs are either side of mine. I feel kinda wierd, but hand over the razor when he holds his hand out for it, and just let him do his thing. I can always stop him if it gets too wierd, right? And, as stupid as I must be, I trust him. Shaun reaches over and grabs my hair conditioner, and puts it down beside him. He lifts my not-bleeding leg so that my calf is resting on his partly upraised knee, my foot a little lower than his shoulder. I watch him pick up the hair conditioner, my leg still positioned on top of his, and put a bit on his hands. He goes to put it on my leg, and that's a bit too wierd for me. "Wot the fuck're you doin'?" I spit out, but leave my leg where it is, because I'll fall backwards if I try to move it, and I don't feel like cracking my head open today. "Hair conditioner is just like shaving cream" he answers, making no effort to move my leg from his, or put that hair conditioner on it either, "It'll make yer legs smoother. Trust me". I look at him warily, one eyebrow raised, and he rolls his eyes. "Look" Shaun says, taking one of my hands in his non-conditioner-holding hand and putting it against his own leg. Never noticed it before, but he's not got a hair on him, save for what's on his head. I suppose that'd be a must, in his line of work. It's not such a bad thing though. Ha, I wonder what Dom would look like if he shaved his legs? I run my hand from the middle of his calf, up to his knee. He's got legs that fucking Julia Roberts would envy, had she been born a male. Deep caramel cream, slim and toned, smoother than a babies ass. Everything about him is just like that. "A'ight" I answer, taking my hand away from his leg when I realise I've let it linger there too long, "Fine. Shave away". He smiles and shakes his head at my hostile give-in, then gently rubs the conditioner onto my upraised leg like you would moisturiser, I suppose. I'm not exactly into moisturising and hand cream and stuff like that. Not like Mia, who's the epitome of a 15 year old female. She's into nail polish and perfume and pretty make up and hair clips. Mia's like butterscotch. Pretty and sweet. Me? I'd rather Elias's Lynx spray to any of Mia's fucking piss-in-pretty-bottles. Never worn a dress in my life. My nails are either bitten or covered in car grease, and even if they weren't, I wouldn't want them all the colours of the rainbow. And my hair, hell, all I can do with it is tie an elastic band around it so it's out of my face. That's about as girly as I get. "You remind me of my brother" I say for some reason unkown to me, as Shaun runs the razor carefully and methodically from my ankle to my knee. He glances up for a second at my statement. "Yeh? He must be a great guy" he smiles, looking back to my leg. He must've noticed that the shorts I picked out for today are a only little longer than knee-length, so he doesn't have to go right up my thighs. I would've never picked out something like that. "He is" I answer, wiping absently at the blood still oozing from my leg. You'd never guess it, but the cut is actually tiny. Blood for Africa, man. It's pissin' out everywhere. God, I miss Elias. He would've fixed me up good and proper with a bandaid and a kiss. That's the way he works. I've never seen him soften like he does around me. He's alot like Dom, in that way. The way Dom is with Mia. Maybe that's why they don't get along. Because they're too similar. "So...you got a boyfriend, Arletta Ramirez?" Shaun asks, not looking up from my leg. That's a good thing, coz if I get another cut like this pisser, I'll end up dying here on the shower floor from blood loss. Fucking hell, I'm gonna die of blood loss from the cut I've already got, if it doesn't stop bleeding soon. "Nah" I answer, then shrug, as though it doesn't matter, "Do you have a boyfriend?". He laughs a little, and it's nice. Nice to hear someone happy. Not that I'm not happy... I should be. I *want* to be. But, I don't know. I'm hovering between happy and sad. I'm happy to be away from everything bad in my life. I'm sad to be away from everything good. I think I just need some breakfast and a good night's sleep. Hopefully Pedro's couch isn't too lumpy. "No. I don't" he says, still smiling, "I did...about a month ago, but, yeah, y'know, he didn't like sharing...". I smile at this. Realise I haven't smiled in a long time. There just hasn't been anything to smile about. Things around the house were getting pretty fucking dismal and, well, Dom is like the center of my universe. And he's always telling me how much he hates me. That hurts more than anything Chino ever did. And hurting doesn't exactly make me want to smile. "Wot woz his name?" I ask as Shaun gently lifts my leg from his, holding onto my hand so I don't fall back, and lifts my other leg instead. He rests it on his other knee, and wipes away the little dribbles of blood that are still lingering from the cut. "Adam" he answers, squirting some more conditioner onto his hands, and, being careful of my life-threatening-injury, rubs it onto my leg. I try to imagine the kind of guy this 'Adam' dude might be. Is he blonde and blue eyed? Or tall and dark? Nah, I'd go with the blonde/blue eyes, coz Shaun's tall and dark, and then they'd fit perfectly together. Like chocolate and wine, or something. "No boyfriend" Shaun tut-tut's after a long moment for silence, beginning his work on my other leg, "There's gotta be someone you like, then?". I'm embarrassed now. Too embarrassed to tell him about Dom. I've only known him for a day. He could be some derranged psycho killer for all I know. Dom means something special to me. I don't even talk about him with Mia. The only person I've ever told of my affections for Dom is Marc. He told me to wait it out. Hold on just a little longer. He said Dom would come around. "Um, no" I choke out, then shake my head, "No. No one, really". Shaun cocks an eyebrow, lifting my leg slightly from his knee so he can get to the back of my calf. He doesn't believe me. I suppose I wasn't overly firm or honest with my answer. If I was him and he was me, I wouldn't be believing that shocker-of-a-lie either. "You suck at lying" Shaun says, placing my leg back down on his knee, and carefully, around my war-wound, which has actually stopped bleeding profusely, works the razor across my knee. "I'm not tellin' you!" I answer, defensive mode fully kicking in, "I don't even *know* you!". He shrugs, as if to say 'fair enough'. He's lucky he backed off, or we'd be here a long motherfuckin' time. When I get defensive, there's no breaking through. It's a survival tactic that I'm still developing. If I'd have stayed at home where you *have* to be though, I bet I could've built up my defenses as strong as Elias's sheet of ice that he keeps up around himself. Nothing can get through when he puts up his gaurd. Not a thing. "There" Shaun says, putting my leg back down. My ass is numb from sitting on the hard tiles, and the water is running cold underneath me. I run my hands against my legs. Silky smooth. I'll have to remember that one. Hair conditioner makes your legs smooth. Maybe, if I ever see Mia again, I'll give her that handy hint. I wonder what I'd say if she asked where I found it out? I wonder, if I ever ran into anyone, Elias, Dom, Mia, V, what I would tell them about this past night and morning? Would I tell them about Shaun, the gay pro who's helped me through one of the scariest times of my life? Or would I make someone up, who sounded like a person that *they* would want to know and hang with? Would I tell them I braved it on my own, so that they thought I was tough? Am I ashamed of Shaun? Hell, is he ashamed of himself? "Shaun" I say, as he helps me up off the floor, because my legs are like jelly for no damn good reason. He watches me, brows raised, waiting for me to continue. "Do...do you like, y'know, like bein'...gay, or whatever you like to call it?" I get out finally, looking up at him. Shaun blinks, and his face his totally impassive. Can't tell for the life of me what he's thinking. Total fucking blank. "Sometimes I do" he shrugs, watching me rinse the conditioner off my legs under the coolish water from the shower, "Sometimes I don't". I suppose he means in different situations. When he finds some real cute gay guy who's into him, I suppose he's happy. When he's gettin' the shit kicked out of him for being less than straight, I can't imagine he'd be too overjoyed. "You ever get beaten up for bein' gay?" I ask, knowingly sounding a little crude, but having no better way to put it. Shaun turns off the shower, and avoids making eye contact at all costs. "I doan wanna talk about it." And I'm smart enough to know that when someone says they don't want to talk about something, then they generally don't want to talk about something. Not rocket science. "OK" I answer, then force a smile, trying to brighten the mood, that's gone from light to pretty fucking heavy within the space of two stupid questions that I couldn't help asking, "We havin' breakfast here or wot?". Shaun looks across at me, recognising that I'm trying to lighten the mood, and forces a smile, "If you like burnt toast and soggy weetbix". Doesn't sound overly appertising, but hell, it's *food*. And I'm starving. I only ate, like, half of my Macca's last night. Shaun pretty much scoffed his down. He needs it more than I do, though. I've still got puppy fat and it's not something I'm proud of. It's going, slowly but surely, and I wish it would hurry the fuck up. Why can't I be tall and willowy and beatiful, like Mia? "Thought it was eggs and bacon day?" I reply, and he laughs. I smile, following him over to where we dumped our clothes. Shaun's got what he had on when he got here. Same as last night. But I can't imagine he's got an extensive Versace wardrobe to choose from anyway. I've only brought a few sets of clothes with me. The best things that I could fit into my ruck sack. Had to travel light. I'm planning on getting a job, bumming at Pedro's, and getting new shit with what I make. I turn away from Shaun, and quickly dry myself with a rather scratchy towel. Not mine. It's from the hostel. I dress as quickly as humanly possible, and hold onto my wet underwear. "Where should I put these?" I ask, looking back to Shaun. He's just doing up his pants. Didn't realise he mightn't have been doing the same rush-job that I was. He looks over at me, then at the wet clothes in my hand. "Uh, jus' hold onto 'em for a sec. There's a line outside. They might get nicked, but, shit, they ain't that expensive to replace" he says, grabbing both his shirts and pulling one on after the other. He snatches up his boxers, and holds his hand out for my washing. I feel a little wierd about handing over my underwear, but I give it to him anyway. "Go get in line for some food, if you like" he says, moving to leave, "I'll hang these out". I just nod and he walks off. I walk into the main room. I feel akward. Like I don't belong. Unlike the people here, I've *got* a house. I just don't wanna be in it. Don't wanna be with who's in it. There's alot of old guys with raggedy hair, like you see asleep on park benches. Mismatched clothes, blood shot eyes, plastic bags full of tin cans. Derro's. I wish Shaun would come back. I don't wanna be here on my own. And then, there they were. The group make their entrance known by Boof cupping his hands around his mouth and letting out a loud series of barking noises. People are looking around, taking in the group and they sure as hell have my attention too. Same four from last night. Well, I guess they did say they would be here. "Man, I hate this place" Ram scowls as I watch, casting his green eyed gaze over the dirty old men sitting randomly around the surprisinly warm room. "Well, nobody asked you wotcha thought, man" Gimp answers, looking back over her shoulder at him. I like her, even though I've barely ever spoken to her. She's a take-no-shit kinda chick, from what I can tell, and I admire that. "Yeh, man. Shuddup" Boof says, pushing Ram's shoulder. Ram looks like he might push him back, but decides against it. Good choice on his part, coz Boof could definately pound his ass. They keep walking until they reach an empty table in the corner, randomly arranging themselves around it. I fidget for a moment, not sure whether I should go over there or not. If I go 'hey, it's me' and they don't remember who I am, I'll just fucking die! Finally, I get over my jitters and weave my way over to the table. Thank fucking god Gimp looks up as I walk over and grins at me. "Ay! It's Letty!" she says, waving me over. I've barely been sitting with them two seconds when Shaun comes back from hanging out our wet clothes. He slides onto the bench seat between me and Daniel, and smiles reassuringly at me. I can't help but smile back. He's been so good to me. "So, wotchoo's doin' today, 'en?" Boof asks, looking across at Shaun as Ram and Gimp get up to get us all some food. Shaun looks across at me before answering. "We're gonna go find Letty's cousin." |