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He’d forced himself to attend a later session of yoga this evening.Decided to go to a Vinyassa class and pumped out warrior poses and sun salutes until he’d raised a sheen of sweat.
Despite having worked off a pile of energy, he was still wired.Too many images of Judith, the scent of her, the feel of her, the way she called his name as she came, running through his brain, making his libido difficult to keep under wraps.
A hard slam between the shoulder blades made him wince.He’d have to tell Dan to stop the fuck creeping up on him.
“Mate, you made it.”Dan sounded astounded.
“Course I made it.”
“I can’t tell anymore with you,” Dan grumbled, swinging his butt onto a bar stool.“You’ll disappear up your own arse one day with all this hippy shit.”
“Better than teabagging into the mouth of one of your team mates every Saturday arvo.It’s surprising you don’t talk like thiiiissss.”Carts raised his voice to a shrill pitch.
“Cock sucker,” Dan retorted cheerfully.
“Yeah, and that too.”They both laughed.Puerile jokes had always been the order of Friday nights, a pint of the black stuff in front of you, possibly a line of them.It was a relief sometimes, the banter Carts only ever indulged in with his best mates; safe in the knowledge it would go no further.
Dan’s freckles shone in the Shamrock lights.He really looked no different from when he was thirteen, just a bit taller and a hell of a lot broader.
Built like a brick shitter, I am,Dan had always said proudly.
They guzzled their pints in unison.Elbows bent, glasses to mouth.The great Guinness salute.The loud lip smack of satisfaction before licking away the froth moustache.
Back like it used to be.Minus one important cog in the wheel.
As if he read his mind, Dan said, “Have you heard from Aaron lately?”
Carts flicked a quick glance to see Dan’s pale blue eyes suddenly examining the ceiling, the look he got when a) he was pissed as a fart or b) he was being evasive about something.He guessed Dan had got the big news too and he supposed he should help him out by letting him know he knew.
“Yeah, he rang to say him and Alice have got engaged.”
“Oh, right-oh.”Still Dan’s gaze was evasive.“And… you’re all cool with that?”
Carts grinned.“I told him no hard feelings as long as I’m still best man.”
Dan looked relieved.“Bugger, I thought he’d choose me.”
“No way he would, you’d drop the ring down a crack in the podium.Then get maggoted and upset the bridesmaids with your god-awful chat-up lines.”
“Bullshit.”But Dan had the grin of a man who knew, from experience, this to be the case.“Mind you,” he added after another slug of his pint, “it did make me think if Aaron could find ‘the one’, there’s hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“The likes of you and me.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Dan plonked his empty glass on the bar.“Awright, but let’s be honest, mate.Neither of us are exactly high on the pulling power, are we?”
Carts squared his shoulders, ruffled a hand through his hair.Fuck it, he was going to get that haircut tomorrow morning from Tara, walk into the jaws of terror and let her snip her worst.
“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, rubbing the condensation from the sides of his glass.
Dan’s eyes took on a gleam of interest.“About to plunge in again are you mate?”He sounded a little peeved, almost envious.Dan might eschew dating for rugby, but Carts knew behind that solid wall of muscle he was soft as butter.They’d never have maintained a friendship if he wasn’t.
“You ever see Lucy these days?”Dan asked now.
“No way!”Carts shuddered.Lucy had lived with him for a few months, and he’d foolishly believed for a time she was “the one”.He’d given himself over to her whims and fancies.Her insomnia and her constant worry about whether she should have Botox for a tiny invisible—to him—crease in the centre of her forehead that no-one would even notice, let alone care about.They’d been a disaster together sexually.He’d had completely the opposite problem with Lucy.Frankly, he’d barely dare get a half mongrel around her in case she complained about it prodding her in the back and keeping her awake.
