Rating:PG I suppose
Summary: Billy is waiting
Disclaimer: I made this up.
Feedback: I'll be your best friend
A/N: Thanks to indigo_blind for the beta and the kind words
Billy had bought the newspaper specially.
He wasn’t interested in the whichever Page Three stunner had slept with whatever Premiership footballer, and was selling her story of...what was it...”steamy love romps with top footy hero” that graced the front page, or in the sordid untruths in neat bite sized paragraphs inside. He didn’t even care about the sport on the back page.
A man alone in a pub reading the paper was inconspicuous, no one ever looked twice.
No one noticed how often he glanced up at the clock, or how his fingers tapped impatient rhythms on his glass.
The quick thrum of his heart was also unseen as was the way his breath hitched and his stomach clenched was the moments ticked by.
And no one, none of the chatting crowd knew of the flashing blue eyes he pictured, the broad strong shoulders, tanned arms and nimble fingers, reaching, exploring, engulfing. Or of the wolfish grin, it’s clever lips spilling wit and banter, crooning and booming with their friends voices, his parents, Billy’s own; kissing and tasting sweet and soft or hot with aching slowness.
The clock’s longest hand swept forward one more step.
Soon, Billy thought, almost time, soon
A hand rested on his shoulder. "Sorry I kept you waiting, Bill."
The hand of the clock moved forwards again, unheeded this time, and the paper lay forgotten on the table.