Quiet Types, page 19
“I just always wonder if there was something I could’ve done. If I’d known about the burglaries and what they were up to, I could’ve gotten them to stop. I could’ve given them their drug money or maybe even dobbed them in to the Gardaí. I might’ve prevented those people from being killed, and some nights, I lie awake thinking about it. I think about the lives she ruined with her recklessness and wish I could’ve stopped her. I wish I’d made more of an effort to get her to change and be a better person. And I hate her so much. I hate her for making my life so full of pain, but the more I’m away from her, the better I can pretend she doesn’t exist. I can escape the memories, stop her creeping into my thoughts. But now I can’t get away from her because Vivi wants to see her, and I can’t say no to my sister. I feel physically incapable of denying her my help.”
Listening to Maggie speak, it was hard to imagine all she’d been through. First, her mother had made her homeless at sixteen, and then she’d killed three people by driving recklessly. And now, Maggie, being the empathic person she was, had to live with the guilt of things that weren’t even her doing.
“I understand why you feel how you do,” I typed. “But there was nothing you could’ve done to change things. People can only alter their ways if they choose to do so themselves. And it’s admirable how you care for your sister, but you really shouldn’t see your mother if you think it’s going to affect you adversely. If your sister truly wants to see her and needs someone to take her, then I’ll do it,” I offered. “I’ll do anything to prevent you from seeing the woman who’s caused you so much suffering. Your mental health is too important.”
Maggie sniffed and shook her head. “I could never let you do that. I would never …” She reached out and caressed my cheek. “I would never let her meet you. You’re so special to me, Shay, and she ruins everything she touches. No, I can survive seeing her once. It will be hell, but I can do it for Vivi.”
“What if I don’t want to let you do it?” I typed, angry now.
Why wouldn’t she just let me shoulder the burden for her? She was always so determined to survive on her own. Didn’t she realise I wanted to help her? I wanted to protect her in every way; bodily, spiritually, emotionally. And I was strong enough to deal with her mother, no matter how toxic she might be.
Often others saw my mutism as a weakness, something that held me back, but over the years, I realised it could be a superpower, too. People couldn’t draw me into petty arguments, couldn’t use sly conversational tactics to get me to lose face. In those situations, my silence was a strength, more powerful than a witty comeback or wry retort. It made cruel or mean people look like blithering idiots as they talked and talked while I remained a stoic wall of silence.
Maggie let out a small, watery laugh. “I’m afraid you can’t stop me, Shay.” She fell quiet for a few moments, then said, “But you can help me.” Her words were spoken softly, meaningfully. I knew what she wanted. It pained me to deny her because I wanted it, too, but I wouldn’t allow our first time to be tainted by the desperate way she was feeling right then. If her mother was as terrible as Maggie described, then I didn’t want any part of her to shadow what was between us. I didn’t want Maggie to think about our first time and remember she only did it to escape the pain she was going through.
“Why don’t I run you a bath?”
Her expression fell. “I don’t want a bath.”
“It will help you relax. Have you eaten yet? There are some leftovers downstairs.” I moved to stand, but she grabbed my wrist.
“Please, Shay. Stay here with me.”
I glanced at my bed, temptation drawing on me once more, but I held strong, shaking my head.
She stood and walked to the door, her arms folded when she turned back, her voice cracking. “You don’t want me anymore. I should’ve expected it. I never tell people about Mam because they always see me differently after. Tainted. I’m tainted.”
I strode toward her, cupping her face in my hands and fervently shaking my head. I wished to be able to speak, to be able to quickly explain there was very little she could reveal that would ever change my opinion of her, certainly not the misdeeds of another person she just so happened to be related to.
In the absence of words, I let my actions do the talking.
I backed her into the wall, captured her lips with mine, and kissed her hungrily, channelling everything I felt for her into it, so there could be no confusion. The truth was I’d been falling for Maggie for a while, but she might not be ready to hear it. Love festered and burned within me, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep hidden. But she was skittish. Had been about to flee just now before I stopped her by kissing her.
I kissed her like I’d been thirsting for decades. I made sure there was no room for her to misinterpret things, to think I didn’t want her now that I knew about her mother. Nothing could be further from the truth. My hand moved up to cup her jaw, and she moaned when my fingers dug in. Finally, I broke away but made sure to hold her gaze. She slumped against the wall, her eyes awash with desire.
I quickly grabbed my phone and typed, “If I didn’t care about you, I’d fuck you up against this wall. I’d have you screaming my name so loud the neighbours would hear. But I do care about you, Maggie, and that’s why I can’t have sex with you tonight. Not when you’re feeling this way. But I will do something better. I’ll take care of you.”
A sheen of emotion rose in her eyes. I wished for her to hear my real voice, the one that only existed inside my mind, but that was as good as it was going to get. I saw her acceptance in her expression, so I put down the phone and took her hand, leading her from my room and to the bathroom.
Dad renovated the house a few years ago, so it had a much larger main bathroom than it was originally built with. I sat Maggie down on the stool next to the tub then went to turn on the water.
She stayed quiet while I ran the bath for her. I poured in some bubbles, then stepped across and pulled her up from where she was sitting.
Undress, I signed, unsure if she would understand. Maggie knew a basic amount of sign language from me teaching her on our bus journeys, but there was still so much for her to learn.
Her cheeks reddened, which made me suspect she understood. “I can’t take a bath in your house, Shay. Your dad—”
He’s babysitting for Ross and Dawn. He won’t be home for hours, I signed, and her brows furrowed, her eyes on my hands. “Wait,” she said. “Sign that again, but slow it down.”
I signed more slowly, fascinated by how she watched my hands with full concentration. She was so beautiful and earnest; sometimes, it hurt not to touch her. “He won’t …won’t be back for …” Her expression was focused, a little frustrated, and I couldn’t have been more in love with her than at that moment. Yes, I was in love with her. There was no point denying it. The woman had cast a spell over me, and I belonged to her completely. I signed at her slowly once more, and she chewed her lip.
“He won’t be back for hours?” she asked. “Is that what you said?”
I nodded, and her face lit up. My heart thumped hard because I adored her smile. I loved seeing her happiness, especially after how upset she’d been when she’d showed up on my doorstep.
I motioned to the bath, and her cheeks reddened further. “It does look very inviting. And the bubble bath smells amazing, but—”
I cut her off by stepping closer and pressing a finger to her lips. My expression brooked no argument, and she swallowed thickly, her eyes going to the bath once more. I left the room, allowing her the privacy to undress. Once outside, I closed my eyes, listening and hoping she would get in. There was a long minute of nothing, and then finally, I heard the swish of fabric as she removed her clothes.
My dick was already hardening again at the thought of her lush, naked body slipping into the warm, sudsy water. It took the strength of an ox for me to walk away. I went downstairs and poured some biscuits into Daniel’s bowl. He’d been out in the garden when he suddenly appeared at the door, eyes on his bowl. My dog had super hearing. I let him in, and he hurried over to scoff down his dinner.
I went to the fridge and pulled out some of the leftovers from that day. Dad cooked a large ham, and there was lots left. I put a few slices on a plate for Maggie, along with mashed potatoes and cabbage, then wandered back upstairs to see how she was doing. I didn’t go inside but instead knocked gently on the door.
“Shay?” she asked. “You can come in if you want.”
I squeezed my eyes shut because if I went in that bathroom, I knew I was going to be confronted with a temptation I might not be strong enough to resist.
“It’s okay,” she continued. “I poured more bubbles in, so you can’t see anything.”
Right, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be aware of the heaven that laid beneath all the bubbles. Instead of going in, I went and grabbed a large towel from the airing cupboard. When I returned to the bathroom, I opened the door a few inches and slid my arm through, holding out the towel. Maggie chuckled softly, and the sound released some of the tension that had been coiled tight just above my abdomen. The bath had calmed her a little, and hearing her relaxed laughter made me calmer, too.
“I can’t reach that,” she said. “You’re going to have to come in.”
With a reluctant sigh, I stepped into the bathroom, trying to avert my eyes, but it was useless. My gaze was drawn to her like a magnet until I was presented with one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. As promised, the bath was so full of bubbles I couldn’t see any of her nakedness. All I could see was her long, wet auburn hair draped across the back of the tub as she reclined. Her pale neck was exposed, and the barest hint of cleavage visible, but that was all.
Her face though, her face was stunning. Gone were the stress lines that had been etched between her eyebrows and the frantic, teary sheen in her eyes. Now, her skin had a pinkish glow, her plump lips soft and kissable. The smattering of freckles across her cheeks could’ve been painted by one of the masters. She looked relaxed, at ease, and I was transfixed, unable to look anywhere else.
For some inexplicable reason, my fingers itched to draw her.
“Shay?” she asked, her tone questioning. I must’ve had a strange expression on my face. Swallowing thickly, I went and placed the towel on the stool near the bath, then pulled out my phone.
“I made up a plate for you if you’re hungry,” I typed.
“Oh,” she breathed, and it was a struggle not to keep staring at her, my eyes drinking her in. “I’m not very hungry. Is it okay if I just stay here for a while? I always forget how much better a bath makes me feel.”
“That’s fine. I’ll put the food in the fridge, and you can have it later if you like.”
I moved to leave, but she reached out, catching my hand. “Don’t go. Stay. Talk to me.” She paused, and some of her earlier pain re-emerged. “I don’t want to be alone.”
If I stayed, I was in danger of touching her, but maybe … maybe if my hands were busy. Before I could properly think through the thought, I typed, “Can I draw you?”
Maggie inhaled sharply, her pretty blue eyes flaring. “What? Like this?”
I nodded, and heat bloomed on her neck. “Ah, um. I’m not sure.” Her eyes returned to mine, her indecision evident, but then, surprisingly, she blurted, “Okay, then. So long as I get to keep the picture.”
“Of course,” I typed, then went to grab a pencil and my sketchpad. When I returned, Maggie’s eyes were closed. She looked almost serene, but then, when I sat and balanced the sketchpad on my lap, I noticed her pulse quickening, a delicate flicker in her neck. She was nervous. To be honest, I was, too. I’d drawn people before, even naked ones, but never someone I was attracted to and certainly not someone I wanted as ferociously as I wanted Maggie.
I began to draw her when she asked, “Have you ever drawn someone nude before? Well”—she laughed nervously—“I guess this isn’t technically a nude because I’m mostly covered, but—”
I put down my pencil and typed into my phone. “I’ve drawn people nude. When I was in art college.”
Her eyes opened, and she sat up a little. It caused her breasts to rise, revealing more of her lush curves. An agonised look must’ve crossed my face because she quickly lowered back down into the water. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly before continuing, “You went to art college?”
“NCAD, yes, but I never completed my degree.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“I can’t keep typing if I’m to draw you,” I answered, not really wanting to talk about my abandoned education. “Those bubbles won’t last forever.” I shot her a heated look, and she grew flustered, closing her eyes again.
“Right, got it,” she said and released a measured breath.
A silence fell, the only sound filling the room was the scratch of my pencil over the sketch paper and Maggie’s breathing. For a second, I imagined her touching herself under the water, bringing herself to orgasm while I captured it with my pencil, the look on her face. I’d only made her come once, but I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do it a million times, in a million different ways, and capture every expression on her face in a million carefully drawn sketches.
A few minutes went by before she opened her eyes. “I’ve always hated being in pictures, let alone being drawn. I look so much like my mother, and it’s hard to see myself and not see her, too. But that picture you drew of me, from the bus, I didn’t feel like I was looking at my mother. It was me, only me. It takes a true artist to be able to capture someone that way. I like how you draw me, how you see me.”
My pencil paused, and I held her gaze, chest thumping as our eyes locked. The way she spoke about me. It made me feel a burning need. But for what? Then it occurred to me. Maggie’s admiration and praise made me want to be a proper artist again, one who shared his work with the world.
I cast the thought aside, not prepared to delve into all the ways she was changing me, bringing old parts of me back to life. I focused on the sketch. It was only partway done, but I felt like abandoning it, shoving the pad away and lifting Maggie from the bath. I wanted to carry her naked into my bedroom and make love to her while she was still wet. Then I wanted to feel how wet she was in other places …
I caught myself before I allowed my mind to wander further. I was already hard as a rock. Maggie noticed, too, her eyes lowering to my crotch before shyly flicking away. By sheer force of will, I returned to sketching. I was almost finished when Maggie said, “The water’s starting to get cold.”
I set aside my pad and pencil, then went to grab the towel. Maggie was already standing, water sluicing down her curvy, naked form. I allowed myself a momentary glance before I moved forward and wrapped the towel around her. Christ, I shouldn’t have looked. Her curves were heavenly. Too tempting to resist.
“Thanks,” she whispered, and something snapped in me. I reached out to grip the back of her neck and planted my lips on hers. I thought I’d gotten my arousal under control but obviously not. I deepened the kiss, drinking her in. She moaned, her hands clasping my shoulders, her breasts a soft press against my chest. I didn’t even care my shirt was getting wet. All I wanted to do was pick her up, carry her into my room and sink myself inside her. But then my conscience piped up, reminding me she was in a vulnerable mental state. Maggie’s breathing hitched when I ran my thumb along the back of her ear, and I finally stepped away. Her eyes were heavy lidded, hazy with desire. It was my job to sate that desire, but now wasn’t the time.
So, I stepped away, turned and left the room.
Out in the hall, I clenched my fists and did some breathing exercises, trying to calm my racing heart. I heard soft feet padding up the stairs, and then Daniel appeared, tilting his head at me as though asking what I was doing standing outside the bathroom like a weirdo.
I gave him a pat on the head, then headed downstairs, hoping Maggie didn’t hate me too much for kissing her and then leaving so abruptly.
16.
Maggie
I stood alone in the bathroom, naked but for the towel. I was confused why Shay would kiss me like he wanted to consume me, then leave like he might burst into flames if he stayed a moment longer.
Maybe he would have. I certainly felt like I was going to combust if he didn’t put his hands on me again soon. But he wouldn’t. He said as much earlier, and I wished he’d quit being so chivalrous, just for one night. He’d obviously been aroused. I could see he was hard while he sat sketching me, but he’d only kissed me. Barely touched me. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or frustrated by his restraint.
Blowing out a breath, I dried off, then wrapped the towel around myself, securing it above my breasts. I collected my clothes and snuck across the hall into Shay’s bedroom. Peering out the window, I saw his dad’s car was still gone. I should really leave before he got back. It seemed rude to take a bath in someone else’s house while they weren’t at home. Sure, it was Shay’s house, too, but still, I didn’t want to feel like I was taking liberties.
I needed something to comb my hair out. It was a long, wet tangle down my back because I couldn’t find another towel to wrap it up in. But there’d been no hairbrush in the bathroom, and one didn’t appear to be in there either. It was a man’s house, and both Shay and his dad had short hair. They probably only used those tiny combs, which wouldn’t do anything at all to untangle my knotted mane.
Shay was still nowhere to be seen, but I could hear him puttering around downstairs in the kitchen. I opened the door and called, “Shay, um, do you have a hairbrush?”
There was no response, not a verbal one, at least, but I knew he’d heard me. I returned to his room, and he came up the stairs a moment later. His bedroom door opened, and he appeared, carrying a plate of food and a glass of juice. I sat on his bed, my back to the headboard, still clad in only a towel. Shay’s eyes traversed my legs, which thankfully, I’d shaved only a few days ago. Something flickered in his jaw as he set the plate and glass down on his desk, then went to rifle through a drawer. He pulled out a large navy T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants before silently offering them to me.
