Chapter 3

"Chaime wait..."

"Ghost..." he groaned, "Come on."

"I can't."

Chaime tugged on my hand and looked at me plaintively, his eyes wide and sparkling.

"But I want to show you!"

I stop, panting a little at the end of his road. This is the first time we have ever really walked together without a motorbike in sight. It's quite a strange experience, I'd almost forgotten how incredibly tall he was. He towers over me, hair tied back, wrapped in a jumper and his racing jacket, as if he doesn't own anything else. I take hold of the end of his bright red scarf and toy with it while I lean against the wall and get my breath back. Mist rises from my mouth, tainting my vision of him, aloof and powerful and impatient. He moves too fast for me, my heart is thudding fast, the cold hurting my chest. I am wrapped in layers of jumper, jacket, coat, gloves, scarf and hat. My white hair coiled messily around my neck, itching at my collar.

Eventually I feel well enough to walk again, keeping a tight hold on his hand, stopping him from getting ahead of me. Chaime is as excited as a small child, tugging my hand and grinning. My mother dropped me off at the supermarket where he was waiting, all smiles to see me. It's Monday, three days until Christmas and I still haven't asked Chaime the question I came here to ask him. He lets me into the house, it feels so strange being here again, almost two months later and so much had happened. We walk into the kitchen and I suddenly faced with Chris in a fleece and loose trousers, socked feet on the lino, cup of coffee in hand, his hair in a mess. His eyes widen as he sees me.

"Alex..."

"Caiha," I grin and take Chaime's hand, "Good morning."

He stares after us as we vanish into the garage side door. It is gloomy in here and I stand trying to make shapes out of the dark until Chaime switches on the light. It is a biker's paradise. The black Aprilla and the red and black Ducati sit side by side with a deep blue Honda sports tourer two seater bike which very comfortable for the pillion, and a brand new all shining Kawasaki. It's just like the one we test drove the other day, a monster plated in chrome and steel. But this one has a customized blood red and black paint job, strange blue fire winding up the sides.

"Wow..."

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Chaime ran his hands over the bike lovingly, "I only bought her yesterday."

"Very pretty," I said, looking more at him than I was at the bike, "You can afford it?"

"Yeah," he glances ruefully over to the Aprilla, "But I have to sell that one, the track want to buy her off me for open track days. She's good enough for beginners to go round the circuit on to get the feel of the turns before trying it out on the big bikes. Plus if she wipes out she won't be too expensive to replace." He came back over and wrapped his arms around me, and I tilted my face up to except his kiss. There was a cough behind us and Chris stood there staring. "Oh sod off Chris," Chaime waved him away with a hand, "Pervert."

I didn't know what Chaime had done to him, or what he had said, or whether it had to do with his humiliation on his last day of school, but Chris backed off, eyes low and left us alone.

I lay stretched out on Chris's double bed and stared at the ceiling while he hung up his jacket. He touched my chest and looked down at me. It was warm enough in the house to take off jumpers and I was very thin clad in just a t-shirt. I've never been anything else, but the cold had made me lose my appetite. I've always hated winter, the cold, the snow I can't go and play in, the oppressive grey skies. If I had my way I'd stay curled in bed all day with a hot water bottle and a good book. But of course, I don't get my way and Chaime gets his.

He placed a kiss on my neck so gentle I hardly felt it, his hands unbelievably warm on my chest, slipping under my shirt to touch my skin, pale as ice, the scar over my heart traced with fine fingertips that made my breathing shallow. He laid down beside me on the bed and leant over me, his forehead resting against mine, I could feel the heat radiating off him. Like a blanket he covered me with himself and I wrapped my arms around him, his weight heavy and perfectly right against my slender body. I ran fingers through his hair.

"Tell me your name."

"Oh Ghost," he kissed me, "Of course."

"What will I call you?"

"Ciac."

I smiled and shaped my lips around the word, kissing him as I said it, giving myself to him. I wanted to say I love you but I didn't. I hoped he knew, because I didn't tell him that afternoon as we lay together on his bed in the warm and ignored the rest of the world.

The phone picks up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this is Alex."

"Oh, you're Jaime's friend?"

"Yes. Is he in?"

"He's in the shower I'm afraid, you can call back in about half an hour or I can take a message if you want."

"Yeah, could you just ask him, no um, never mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Can you ask him if he wants to come to Bristol and get him to call me?"

"Does he have your number?"

"No," I reeled it off, "Thanks."

Exactly twenty nine minutes later the phone rings again. I pressed the speaker button, and flopped onto my bed.

"Alex?"

"Yes Chaime?" I imagined him standing in his room holding the phone to his ear, hair dripping down his back, dressed in nothing but a towel. I visualized his beautiful tattoos, the strange swirls and knots, the tracery smoke surrounding that winged gun. I wanted to run my fingers over his skin and feel him shudder.

"What's all this about Bristol?"

"The day after boxing day for two days, do you want to come? It's a big family do at my aunt and uncles place, the mausoleum, it's gets really cold in that house. We all get to bring a guest. You wanna come and keep me warm?" I closed my eyes, seeing his eyes, the shape of his face in the dark, the lines I had learnt in that poky spare room in Brighton, the smile under my fingers.

"As your friend?"

"No, as my boyfriend." I have never said anything so bold in my entire life.

"Oh Ghost, my Alec, of course."

"Come over on Boxing Day, in the afternoon, stay the night here."

"Am I allowed?"

"Yes."

"Love you Ghost."

"I have to go, I'll dream about you Ciac."

"Good."

The sky is blue and cloudless and stretches out for miles. Spring in December. I'm lying in the long grass on top of the hill, the Mill Post this black spike looming away to my left. The taste of fruit and honey in my mouth is sweet and strange. There is a figure standing atop the crumbling wooden post. Chaime, Ciac, He stands with his arms spread, as if crucified.

"This pillar is my love for you," he says in a voice not his own, "But you do not love me."

As he speaks the post begins to crumble, the age old wood rotten and weak, dust implodes and Ciac falls into the hole where the post used to be set. I try and reach for him, but his body lies broken and lost on the concrete. His tattoos glow.

I woke up with a startled shout, and it took me several moments to work out that I was home, safe, and it was Christmas morning. This last was confirmed by a bulging stocking at the end of my bed and the noises of River exalting over the contents of his stocking. My door was pushed open a moment later and my little brother bounced in, half dressed and grinning.

It was a Christmas like any other, marked only by a phone call I got just before lunch, Chaime grinning down the phone at me, his voice full of happiness. He told me he loved me, told me he'd see me tomorrow with my present. I couldn't help but smile, despite River sitting on the stairs giggling at me. He liked Chaime, that was good because I don't know how I would have coped with Jason otherwise. He was pissed when he found out that I'd invited Chaime to Bristol. He was going stag, his best mate Mark coming along for the ride. River was bringing his best friend too, nice kid called Ryan who lived in a poky little village about twenty miles away.

I wandered around in a daze until Boxing Day lunch when I forced back to reality by the noise of a motorbike. Chaime rode up the gravel path on the Honda tourer. He stopped in front of the house, got off the bike and swore a lot before taking off his helmet.

"Why gravel Ghost? It's unholy to ride on."

I put my head on one side and smiled. Chaime was going to sleep in my room this evening, in my bed, with me. The thought made me shiver and shake, excitement and fear all at once. He untangled his bag from the elastic spiders that clipped it onto the panniers on the back of his bike and slung an arm around my neck.

"What are you smiling for?"

I beamed up at him and didn't say a word.

Chaime had brought presents for my family. An ornate pair of bronze candlesticks for my parents, a bit gothic but very nice, a Harley Davidson shirt for Jason with logo embossed collar studs and three Buell t-shirts for River in varying colours. Everyone seemed impressed, and Chaime took his seat on the end of the sofa while I perched on the arm next to him as my brothers guests arrived. We all sat around the living room for a while, tea, coffee and hot chocolate with Boxing Day cookies decorated with marzipan and chatted, Chaime getting on along with everyone very well indeed. I was mostly silent, Mark and Jason teasing me a little, both of them slightly put out by Chaime's presence, older than both of them by a year. Mark knew the history and I kept seeing him sneak strange glances my way, like he couldn't work out that we were together. River and Ryan seemed to have no problems with us but skipped out up to River's room before the rest of us. We didn't get much free time before dinner, Chaime and I laid the table for eight, the good china, candles, crackers. The Christmas cake like a centre piece, mum makes fantastic ones each year. This one had holly and little blue flowers made from icing all over it.

After dinner, drinks, and the Boxing Day film on television everyone decided to turn in. Ryan and Mark had camp beds set up on respective floors and River turned in earliest, no doubt to stay up whispering until dawn. Chaime yawned, rubbed my shoulder and kissed my cheek before going upstairs, his footfalls heavy on the stars. Mark stared and Jason dragged him away. My father took me aside.

"Houston," he sounded serious, "Now it's not that we don't like Jaime, he seems very nice. But he's quite a bit older than you and your mother and I, well," he paused, shifting his gaze and looking embarrassed, "We don't want you to do anything you'll regret. You know the risks, not just your heart. Other things."

I nodded and hugged him.

"I know what I'm doing dad. I'll be OK." I didn't give him much chance to say anything else, I kissed my mother goodnight and fled upstairs. My room was dark, I was disappointed, thinking that Ciac had gone to sleep without me. But then I saw the little reading lamp by my bed on, the shape of him in the half light.

"That's my side," I said, for want of anything better, and shut the door behind me. He sat up, the quilt falling low around his hips revealing the top of black boxers. I sighed in relief and then felt guilty for being scared. Chaime moved over to the other side of the bed. He reached down to the floor and held up a small silver box.

"Your present."

"Oh Chaime..." I went to the wardrobe and got out a large multi coloured box, "Here's yours." We swapped. I had bought Chaime a long leather coat that had almost emptied my bank account. It was dark brown with blood red lining. He held it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

"Thank you."

I went over to the bed and sat on the edge, making getting undressed take a long time. After a while there was no more necessary fiddling and I turned to him dressed in just my boxers and feeling very nervous. Chaime smiled at me and I blushed. He held out the little sliver box. I opened it with shaking fingers and held up a beautiful sliver chain, hanging from it was a gorgeous slip of silver worked into a three dimensional representation of the lovely tattoo that decorated Chaime's chest. I was speechless as he took it from my fingers and fastened in round my neck, a cold kiss on my skin, the swirl hung in the little hollow at the base of my throat. Chaime kissed me and I froze.

He leant back, his brows drawn low in confusion.

"Ghost? What's wrong?"

My father's words swum around in my head, mixing up with the remembered smiles of the night we spent together in the dark. He touched my shoulder and I flinched, he touched my chest and I shied away. Chaime looked at me, his dark eyes confused and worried. I reached up and cupped his face with one hand, his jaw firm and slightly rough with stubble under my hand. I lent into him, his skin hot against my own and kissed him. My head swam with confusion, but a suppressed the thoughts that rose within me and simply concentrated n touch, the way he felt against me. I was surprised when he pushed me away.

"Ghost, what are you doing?"

"Ciac? I thought you wanted-"

He put his finger against my lips.

"What did your parents say to you? No, don't tell me. Your father right? Nothing's changed you know, everything I said before is still true. I won't do anything you don't want OK?"

I slumped against him, loving his warmth, the feel of him against me. I was only belatedly aware that I was shaking. Chaime brought his arms up around me, covering us with the quilt. I curled against him, and he wrapped around me, making space for my slender body within the shape of his own. His long hair flowed around my shoulders and he whispered something soft in Spanish in my ear.

"I'm sorry," I realised that I was crying as I held him, my fingers digging into his flesh, "I'm so sorry Chaime."

"It's OK Alec. I love you." He kissed my shoulder, sweeping my long white hair out of the way. His fingers were so dark against me, his mouth warm and wet on my skin as he moved up my neck, cradling my jaw. He groaned between kisses, his hand huge splayed across my chest, holding me against him. My heart was hammering against my ribs, so fast I could hardly breathe, I held onto Chaime so tight my knuckles showed up extra white through my skin. Chaime reached over and turned off the light and suddenly tiredness overcame me and eventually I fell asleep in his arms, scraps of Spanish following me to my dreams, Chaime's hand closed around the pendant at my throat.

The heat of Ciac's fingers pushed through my unconsciousness and roused me. I drew my hand across my face and then River's voice punched a hole through my warm sleepy bubble.

"Alex! Wake up Alex, time to go!"

"Huh?" Chaime's arms around me grew tighter, his eyes screwing up to avoid the light, "Not now."

I opened my eyes, River stood at the end of my bed, half dressed with the smuggest look on his face. I knew what it looked like and it took all my energy to pull my arm out of Chaime's embrace and swat at my brother like an errant fly.

"Sod off River."

"But you have to get up!"

"I can't while you're standing there now can I? Get out!"

It took me a long time to untangle myself from Chaime's mostly sleeping form and I shook him awake in between getting dressed. By the time he was up to putting on clothes I was in the bathroom doing my teeth and winding my hair into a single long white plait. Breakfast was a rushed affair, what with people trying to pack and car arrangements going on. Chaime loaded my stuff into the car, his stuff was in the panniers of his bike and sent me back upstairs to get changed into my leathers. Jason argued that there was no way I should be allowed to travel all the way to Bristol on the back of a bike in the hands of, and he didn't get to finish that sentence because River coughed loudly and Chaime walked into the room and scowled at Jason. Mark hid himself behind the cereal.