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Diarmuid

 

 

 

Saoirse kissed me.

She kissed me.

Right on the mouth. I was so shocked that it took me a second to tear my lips away.

“Saoirse, Jesus,” I muttered.

This was so wrong. So fucking wrong. My stomach filled with sickness. She was fourteen. Just a child. With a crush. Why didn’t I see this coming?

Ava had. Why didn’t I listen?

Saoirse spoke and her words were like knives in my gut. “Diarmuid, I want you to have my virginity.”

Fuck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

She reached for me and my stomach turned. I leapt to my feet, pushing her aside so that she fell back on the couch. “Saoirse, no! Oh God.”

I should have never let her in so close. I should have never treated her like an adult, even if she was more mature than her physical years. My mind weaved back through the last year with her—every hug, every innocent touch was now tarnished. How could I let this happen?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up and reaching for me again to soothe me. To soothe me.

I backed away from her, my hands out, trying to keep her from getting any closer.

“Jesus, Saoirse, you’re only fourteen.”

“I know what sex is. I’ve seen my mother do it with the men she brings home. I can make it good for you.”

Oh my God.

I snatched my arms away from her hands like her fingers were poisonous. My fingers ripped at my hair.

“No, Jesus, fuck, no.” I choked. “I’m not touching you like that.”

I saw the instant something broke inside her, the tears swelling in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembling.

Fuck. I’ve hurt her.

Her tears cracked something in me. My self-preservation flew out the window and all I cared about was softening the blow. I sank to my knees in front of her.

“Saoirse,” I said, my voice calmer than my ragged heartbeat. “I don’t want to hurt you. But that can’t happen between us.”

“Why not?” she wailed, the first tears flowing down her cheeks, leaving burn marks across my heart.

I cursed under my breath. “You’re four-fucking-teen, Saoirse.”

“I’m almost fifteen.”

I shook my head. “It’s still wrong.”

“Why?” Her voice started to rise. “Because of my age? Age means shit, you said so yourself.”

“I meant age doesn’t mean shit when it comes to mental maturity.”

“So it means something when it comes to sexual maturity?”

“…yes.”

“A hundred years ago women were being married off at thirteen and fourteen. Wasn’t anything wrong with it then. Why now?”

I spluttered, my reasonings feeling like butterflies I was trying to catch.

“Selkie, you’ve got years ahead of you to be a woman. Enjoy being a kid for now.”

“I’m not a kid!” she yelled in my face. “It’s because I don’t have big boobs like Ava, isn’t it? I’m not sexy enough.”

Her words killed me. I hated that I lived in a world where a fourteen-year-old girl could think these things. What happened to being a child?

“Jesus, selkie, it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“Then why?”

“It’s illegal.” I swallowed down bile. “You’re only fourteen. It is wrong for any adult to touch you in that way. You need to save it for when you’re older. For when you’ve found someone you love.”

“But I love you, Diarmuid. I want my first time to be with you.”

Dear God, help me.

The thought of a man touching her made me want to commit murder. If it had been any other man who she was offering herself to, I’d fucking kill him. But it was me she was offering her immature body to. Right now, I wanted to hurt myself.

A small kernel of me wanted to be that special one. Because I knew I’d be gentler with her than any pimple-faced, selfish teenage boy. I’d be gentler with her than any other man on this fucking planet. I’d take my time, show her how to make love. I’d be the most generous, kindest lover. It would be a fucking honour to accept the gift of her virginity.

Except not now.

She was fourteen, for fuck’s sake.

Her face twisted, her nose and her cheeks red. “You told me you love me.”

“I do. Like…like a best friend.”

She let out a wail that cut through my heart. “But you brought me here so we could be alone. You broke up with Ava.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Y-your pictures. They’re gone.”

I glanced over to the mantle. Of course she noticed. Dear, sweet perceptive Saoirse. I let out a sigh. I had to tell her. Even though it would break her little heart. I had to tell her now.