Chapter Five

Tuesday the 24th

Holiday Boulstridge

"Get out of the bathroom!" I screamed. I pounded on the bathroom door and for a brief moment the sound of my little sister Pippa's blow dryer ceased. It was Tuesday morning and Pippa had been in the bathroom for about an hour doing trying to make herself more attractive to the idiot boys at her high school.

"Use your own bathroom!" Pippa hollered back. I don't even know why she was blow drying her hair. Couldn't she have just let her nearly waist length red hair air dry?

And No, I could not use my own bathroom. It was freaking creepy as hell. It was so hitched up, and tiny and dark. The grey wallpaper was peeling, the lights flickered constantly and it smelt like a public bathroom. It was terrifying because every time I went in there centipedes were crawling on the ceiling or out of the drain, or worse yet slithering out of the drain. And don't even get me started on the fact that directly across from the toilet there was a picture of Murrell Boulstridge circa 1889. You try doing your business staring into the dead eyes of an old man.

"Just get out! It doesn't matter what you do to yourself you're still gonna look ugly!" I know it was mean, but I'm her older brother; we're supposed to be mean. And it worked because moments later she stormed out of the bathroom with her half damp half dry hair trailing behind her.
Pippa, looks neither like my mother nor my father. She had the Boulstridge wolf-like eyes in a soft shade of blue, but who knows where that red hair came from. She was pretty in a natural way, but I would never let her know that.

"You're horrible," Apollo, my older brother by three years snickered as he walked past me. He looked exactly like my father with the same curly dark hair, only his wolf shaped eyes were blue like my mother's eyes. He was ridiculously tall. So tall that he routinely smashed his head on the tops of the door frames.

"Well some of us didn't get the room with the nice bathroom!" I hollered after him. I finally slipped into the washroom and shut the door behind me. I looked into the mirror and a tired boy stared back at me.

I touched the scar on my cheek. I wished I could tear it out of my skin. It was so ugly. So jagged and disgusting. It looked like I had skin grafts from a bad burn. The last plastic surgeon was full of crap. Telling me my cheek would be as good as new in a couple months. It had been four years and the only thing that improved was the fact that it wasn't swollen.

I splashed cold water on my face and then looked back up in the mirror. Still ugly. Probably more ugly then before. And every time I looked at my face I could see my father staring back at me. My disgusting father dearest.

"Holiday, are you all right?" My Dad called out. His voice carried through the glossy white door perfectly. When I had woken up he had been sleeping in the bedroom which was right next to my mother's bedroom. All of a sudden he was all stirred up now that I was awake.

I squirted a dollop of a nice citrusy scented facial cleanser and began to massage into my face. My senses felt sharpened and I strengthened my voice which was weak with sleep and said; "I'm fine!"

Dad had been extra attentive in the past couple months. After years of abusing me suddenly he came to his senses and realized how damaging and selfish his actions were. He had been so guilty he bought me a new Dodge Charger for my birthday, a really nice and expensive camera, an iPad, anything that he could lay his hands on. I guess he thought if he showered me with gifts that I would just forget about what he did to me. Sadly that's not the case. No amount of iPads, cars or cameras could fill the awkward silence that arose whenever we spoke.

"Do you want anything special for breakfast? Blueberry pancakes have always been your favourite." Dad suggested. He had this pathetic tone in his voice that would have arisen sympathy in someone aside from myself. He was the one who violated me in every respect that a person could be violated. He was the one who turned our normal relationship into something completely unnatural.

"I'm okay. And besides, blueberry pancakes are your favourite." I turned on the tap and rinsed the cleanser off of my face. I patted my face dry with a soft blue towel and then slipped out of my clothes and into the shower.

Showers always went the same way with me. I would test the temperature with my fingers until the water gave my fingers a pleasurable prick. Then I would begin to shower and put my body into auto-pilot leaving my conscious mind to wander. I would completely lose myself thinking about all sorts of things, before finally realizing I was supposed to be showering nearly half an hour later.
Dad was saying more things but I couldn't hear him. My thoughts turned toward him. So many times across the short span of my life I wondered why my Dad misplaced the romantic affection he should have given my mother on me and not my older brother or my little sister. Sure it would be selfish to wish it upon them, sometimes I would. Most of the time I was just wondering if my Dad pounced on the first child he saw that fateful day. Or maybe he had a reason.

My red-headed Uncle Cole (who shared a terrifying resemblance with Pippa) had told me the story of my father's terrible love life many times. And each time I would look for clues, probing the story for hints as to why I was fatally chosen.

James Boulstridge was the oddest and the oldest of the Boulstridge children. He had the ambition of the firstborn child which he rightly was though he had the mysterious air of a middle child. When he wasn't painting or studying, he was locked up in his bedroom passing the time in a way that was only known to God.

When James was fifteen he met his good friend and soon-to-be lover William Grundy. Once when I was fourteen Uncle Cole took me up to my father's study and there was a picture of James and Will when they were 16. Dad looked so happy he nearly looked like a completely different person. He was so happy, he had a genuine smile on his face. Dad's arm was slung over Will's shoulder. Will's green eyes gleamed with a look that simply said "I'm good-looking and I know it". His dirty blond hair hung in his eyes in an artfully messy way that only someone as handsome as Will could pull off.

Soon their relationship sped from a friendship into an Eros-like romantic love. At first they were careful, allowing themselves to be together when Elvira – my grandmother – wasn't home. It was almost as though James had become addicted to Will and couldn't be without them. When they were caught by Elvira when they were both seventeen; Elvira forbidden James from seeing Will. Of course like any love-struck boy he didn't listen. It infuriated Elvira when James went off with Will to their European vacations in the summer, while she knew it was just to get away from her and play lovers in a place where their relationship wouldn't have been condemned.

Will and James enjoyed a steady relationship until they graduated from University. Elvira assumed that James would abandon his boyish lust for Will and settle down with a nice girl in order to procreate. She thought wrong. James was in his late twenties and still went on his monthly fishing trips with Will. Elvira threatened to toss out James and cut him off from his vast Boulstridge inheritance if he didn't marry Jane Dinsmore and completely cut off contact with Will. At first James didn't listen. He was completely smitten by Will and he would rather be poor and ostracized as long as he had his love. So how did Elvira manage to trick him into marrying Jane who was corpulent and simple? Elvira burned his collection of paintings. Including James's favourite painting which was a portrait of Will. She told him that she would do anything to bring the two apart, and that her little arson trick was merely the beginning.

James and Jane were married that summer, but not without putting on a show. James was ordered to take Jane out to dinner, to laugh and smile with her. They almost made a convincing couple. Jane had fallen completely in love with James. She couldn't believe that someone as powerful and handsome as James had an interest in her. It was Jane's naïveté that made it so easy for James to pretend. When Will caught wind of the marriage a year later when Jane was visibly pregnant with my older brother Apollo, he was completely heartbroken. He couldn't believe that James had played him as though he was nothing more than an instrument. Will confessed that James was the only person who really loved him instead of using him to explore their sexuality.

Will never spoke to James again. In an age before Facebook and Google finding someone wasn't as easy as typing their name into a search-bar. James never recovered from losing Will, and fell into a spiralling depression. It was then that Jane realized how transparent her marriage really was. James never so much as smiled at her. He gave her a nice allowance and showered her with cold diamonds that could never keep her warm in the bedroom separate from James's. Apollo was the product of Elvira hassling James to have a son, my sister and I were mistakes made by our father when Jane was the only thing good enough.

"GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM!" Apollo screamed. The bathroom door went flying open and Apollo flushed the toilet with such amazing force I was surprised the toilet didn't break apart. Of course the water that was raining on me went as frigid as the waters in the Arctic and I whipped a bar of soap as his head.

And instead of emerging from the shower clean, I was wet. Apollo retreated off into his room to grab his towel so he could shower leaving me all by myself. I wiped the steam off of the shower and looked into the mirror. I saw everything but myself. My mother saw me as her child that wasn't good enough. My brother saw me as potential, but wasted potential at that. My sister saw me as her tormentor that could be her protector at times. Ryan saw me as beautiful. Though the image I hated the most scalded me; my father saw me as his William Grundy.


Ryan Tramblay

Wednesday the 25th

Mississauga is a city that really isn't a city. It's just a big suburban town not cool enough to earn the title of a city. There's an urban legend that Mayor Hazel McCallion (Who has been the mayor of Mississauga forever, I swear. She's never going to retire. As long as Mississauga stands she will be alive to govern it) settled Mississauga in the early eighteen hundreds. Mississauga is a little suburban village built around Square One Mall which is just the central attraction. It's the driving force of Mississauga. If anything happened to Square One, Mississauga would collapse upon itself and probably be taken over by Brampton or Oakville.

X-Inkz was the coolest thing in Mississauga that wasn't Square One. It was located on the edge of town, before Mississauga blends into Oakville. It advertised in bright red letters that it was a tattoo shop, and it had a famous reputation for doing everything from simple ear piercings to Prince Alberts. The interior of the store was painted a plush red, with black leather sofas dotting the room. There were pictures of the various tattoos people could get, and two glass cases of all the studs and rings people could put in their piercings. My favourite thing about the whole thing was the fact that it smelt like tattoo ink, which meant it smelled of Holiday.

There was a rather cute boy at the counter of the store with blond dreadlocks and his ears stretched so wide the base of my thumb could have fit right through the holes with room to spare. It wasn't attractive but I couldn't help but admire him for doing something so daring.

The door to the tattoo parlour swung open and a biting gust of January wind rushed into the tattoo parlour. A tall boy with dirty blond hair, ruddy angular cheeks, wolfish green eyes and a long scar walked into the room and smiled so widely at me my stomach felt as though it was filled with helium and raising me up to the roof.

"What are you doing here?" Holiday asked. He tugged off his earmuffs and began un-wrapping the scarf from his neck and shoving them down into his backpack. "And don't bother asking me why I'm here because you know I work here.

"I'm here for a piercing." I said to Holiday who raised his eyebrows. I had told him numerous times that I would never allow myself to get a piercing because piercings were too permanent for someone like me who was so indecisive. "I want to get my . . . something pierced. I'm just not sure yet, okay?"
Holiday smiled. "Come with me." As he lead me through the store he waved a polite little hello to a boy with blond dreadlocks and stretched earlobes stretched so wide I could stick my thumb's base right through it with room to spare. Past the rooms filled with wincing patients, whirring machines and that loud CLICK of an ear gun there was a room for Holiday and I.

He took a seat on the stool, and I climbed up on a leather table not unlike one in a doctor's office. "How's your hang over?" I asked him, trying to start up some sort of conversation.

"It's over. It wasn't even that bad. I called in sick and slept from two AM to two in the afternoon. And then Gustav made me chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and eggs." Holiday said. He looked at the door and closed it with the toe of his shoe. "So what are you thinking of getting done?"

"My girl-friend wants a septum piercing and no matter how many times I tell her not to get one, she still wants one. I think that septum piercings make you look like a cow . . . or a bull. I'd look like a bull with a septum piercing, wouldn't I?" I chirped.

Holiday's green eyes clouded over. "Girlfriend?" Holiday was wearing a v-neck long sleeve t-shirt that looked amazing on him. The sweater dipped just low enough to show off his pale collar bone which reminded me of a smoothly polished piece of alabaster.

"She's a girl and she's my friend. She's not my girlfriend. I'm not interested in her at all." I said, realizing he was jealous. I smiled widely. Holiday was jealous of me. He wanted to be my only romantic interest. I was smiling so wide I felt like I was beaming. "Imagine if I got a Prince Albert piercing!" I chuckled at the mere thought of something metal going through my urethra. How absurd!

Holiday chuckled. "I got one a couple months ago." My eyebrows launched so far up on my forehead they must have became one with my hairline. We both reddened. "I was debating whether or not to take it out because it felt so weird whenever I walked. It takes some getting used to." He continued.

"A-are you wearing it?" I stammered. My palms started to get sweaty and the pale leather beneath my hands felt clammy.

Holiday nodded. His eyes got a glimmer to them. "Do you want me to show you it?" My heart was hammering in my chest. The most I had ever seen Holiday unclothed was when we were fooling around. He was still wearing his boxers, so it was no big deal. Holiday had never seen me naked; the worst I had been was shirtless.

"I know you want to see it, but I'm not going to show you unless you ask me to." Holiday said like an ass. Holiday stretched his arms over his head and folded his arms across his chest. He raised his brows at me, waiting for me to say the words he was expecting.

What a pervert! He's such a sadist. I glared at him heavily from the chair. "I. . . wha. . . I never said I wanted to see it! You don't have to show me, 'cause I never wanted to see it in the first place." I huffed. "I want my cartilage pierced." I pointed at my left ear.

"No problem, baby-boy." Holiday cooed. He rose to his feet and brushed my short hair behind my ear and planted a kiss right on my ear lobe.
I pushed him back from me. "I came here for a piercing, not for you to seduce me." I looked him straight in the eyes and he smirked a devilish smile. He pushed me back on the table let his fingers linger on my jaw.

"How could you even try and lie to me? We both know you don't have two loonies to rub together in that backpack. You came here to see me." Holiday purred.

Holiday was so dead on. I tried not to let it show on my face but he was grinning like a contented cat that had finally cornered his prey. He ran his thumb along my lower lip and his face softened. "Your lips are so soft."

"Don't you have work or something!" I cried. I pushed his thumb away but he grasped my wrists and held them over my head. "You're not supposed to fraternize with customers!"

Holiday chuckled and slipped his shirt over his head, skilfully and with one hand. I wondered for a moment if he had practice taking of his shirt while restraining people because we had been apart for so long. Had he been fooling around with other people? It doesn't matter now because he was right here with me and not someone else.

I had to avert my eyes from his body to avoid getting all flushed. His face may have been scarred but his body was well sculpted. I remember tracing my fingers in the groves down his Adonis belt and the swell of feelings that accompanied them.

"You shouldn't be worrying about me. You should be worrying about how you just can't seem to resist me." Holiday moved in to kiss my lips and I opened my mouth and bit down hard. Holiday's lips grazed the brackets of my braces. "Oh, come on. You know you want me to kiss you so stop playing games."

He tried to kiss me and I bit back. He tried again, darting in quickly, and nearly made contact. He tried once more and I nipped the edge of his lip. He was bleeding. He grabbed my shoulders to keep me in place and then tried again. His mouth hovered inches above mine, and I left my mouth open prepared to bite down. His green eyes flicked back and forth from my lips to my eyes. Before I even knew it, we were kissing. I was frustrated that I had lost, but the kiss was good. It was just too good.

Holiday pulled away with a grin on his lips. "Don't worry. I can't seem to resist you either," He whispered softly in my ear. I slid off of the bench, and then he took my place. He was laying on his back and by curling his index finger he beckoned me. I couldn't resist and I sat right on his hips. He tugged the tie out of my sweater's v-neck and pulled me down over him. My bare hand was over his chest. His skin was soft and cold, though his chest was firm.

He touched my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair. I sucked the blood of his lower lip and he made a low noise from the back of his throat. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and felt his familiar silver tongue-ring. It had been so long since I had felt the silver ball in my own mouth and I stroked it lovingly with my own tongue. Holiday undid my tie and tossed it to the floor. I slipped the sweater off and completely unbuttoned my shirt though I refused to take it off. Holiday thumbed my nipple and I felt a flash of pleasure jolt through my body.

"Can I see your piercing?" I asked timidly.

Holiday chuckled. "You have no idea how long I wanted you to ask me that question."

I left the tattoo parlour with a hole in the cartilage of my right ear and my virginity still relatively intact. Holiday had shown me his piercing and I nearly keeled over. It looked so painful. And I couldn't even focus on the piercing, Holiday was showing me something so intimate, I just didn't know what to do. Did he expect me to go down on him or something? I wasn't that kind of person. God, I had wished I was TJ so many times. TJ wasn't a virgin and he was experienced in these matters. He would have known just what to do.

I can't believe I'm remembering this but I had touched him. It was just so weird feeling someone else's member. Wasn't sex supposed to be all sexy and fun? I nearly passed out with worry. Then he let me lay on the table and when I thought he was going to screw me, he just went down on my length. After the initial shock I loved it. I remember how I had ground my hips against his face and pulled him down into me. I felt as though my body was melting away in his mouth. It was so strange, but it was still fun.

After we got cleaned up Holiday pierced my cartilage for free. It hurt like hell but it looked really awesome. I joked and told him I had felt like a prostitute because I was giving him favours in exchange for something and he laughed. Then he pierced himself in the same spot and we both used matching earrings. If I saw some other couple with matching earrings I would have turned up my nose at them and called them sappy. This was Holiday and I, not some other people. I thought it was sweet.

"Where did this come from?" I had asked him, tracing the scar on his cheek. Holiday's green eyes flashed and he went to put his shirt back on. "Did you burn yourself or something?"

"No, but I did do it to myself." He had replied. He gave me a bottle of this solution to clean my piercing.

"So you're not going to tell me how you got it?" I had asked a little upset.

"You're not ready to hear it." Holiday huffed.

"So when am I going to be ready to know? Are you going to decide?" I sounded downright sullen now. Holiday grabbed my chin and kissed me. "You'll figure it out soon or I'll tell you eventually. Now have a good day, Ryan."

When I emerged from the back room I knew I looked too happy. My uniform may have been neatly rearranged but I felt like everyone in the waiting room could see right through me. They knew I had done something bad with Holiday. Maybe they didn't but I felt like they did.

I felt almost like a different person. If I someone had told me that I was going to be kissing Holiday again when I was fourteen and Holiday and I had just split I would've laughed in their faces. I never thought of myself as the type of person who would ever hook up with a guy in the back of a tattoo parlour, but I was. I felt sort of older and wiser. Somewhere along the road I lost my innocence. I pushed that into the back of my mind. We all lose our innocence, one day right?


This chapter has been giving me serious hell. Whenever I release a chapter that's a little lemon-y I get all nervous. Anyways, I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter.
Right now I'm working on a backstory that tells the story of how Ryan and Holiday got together. It basically fills in the gap between The Teenage Flame Dame and Follies. I'm eight chapters in and I hope to be finished it by September so I can get it released on Fictionpress.
Speaking of The Teenage Flame Dame I've changed quite a bit since then. I was so young that story is like an embarrassment. I'm probably going to have to rewrite it.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
-Reve De Neons