Page 53 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
I walk to the park around the corner from Holly’s house, a brand-new football tucked under my arm. I agonised for ages about what to bring, not wanting to turn up empty handed, while also not wanting it to seem as though I’m buying Dylan’s affection.
I arrive at the park and look around anxiously for Holly and her son. It’s one of those strange grey London days, neither sunny nor miserable, just midway between. I stand awkwardly, scanning the other parents and kids for any sign of them, but there is none. A couple of the parents send me suspicious glances, and I realised it doesn’t look great, me as a single man, especially with my appearance, standing alone in a kids’ playground. They probably think I’m going to try to lure their children away with the offer of a new football.
To my relief, I spot Holly and Dylan pushing through the gates of the park. She notices me right away and lifts her hand in a wave. I exhale a breath and make my way over to them. Dylan has inherited his mother’s blonde locks and big, blue eyes. He’s a cute kid, though at six, he probably hates the idea of being thought of as cute.
“Hey, guys,” I say when I reach them. I’d normally lean in and kissed Holly on the mouth about now, but I’m painfully aware of Dylan’s watchful eyes.
Holly takes the indecision out of my hands by standing on tiptoes and kissing my cheek.
“Hi,” she says and then looks to her son. “Dylan, you remember my friend, Kane?”
Dylan shrugs. “I guess.”
“Your mum says you like football,” I say, trying to get the kid animated.
Another shrug. “S’okay.”
Holly nudges her son in the side and then widens her eyes at me, as though to say ‘sorry!’
Dylan’s eyes narrow as his gaze flicks over my exposed forearms. “My dad says only bad people have tattoos.”
“Dylan!” Holly snaps.
I try not to flinch. This isn’t going great so far. “Well, everyone is allowed to have their own opinion on things.” I’m careful with the words I choose, not wanting to put Dylan’s dad down in front of the boy, even though I want to. “But in my mind, having tattoos is just like any other art. You wouldn’t look at art on a wall and think it was bad, would you?”
Dylan shakes his head. “Guess not.”
“Tattoos are just my art. I designed most of them myself.”
A spark of interest lights in his blue eyes. “You did?”
“Yeah. I love to draw. I normally do oriental work. You know what that is?”
His lips twist. “Like Chinese and Japanese stuff.”
I grin. “That’s right. You must be smart like your mum.”
Holly beams, and I know I’ve said the right thing.
“Show me what other ones you’ve drawn?” Dylan asks.
“You like dragons?”
Another shrug. “Guess so.”
I pull the arm of my shirt up to reveal the fire-breathing dragon curling around my bicep.
Dylan’s eyes widen. “Cool.”
“Thanks.” I straighten and throw the football up in the air. As the ball comes down, I head it, sending the ball back into the air. “You wanna play that game now?”
Dylan chases after the ball without even answering, and I throw a quick glance to Holly. She does the thumbs-up sign to me, and I take off, after Dylan. Within minutes, we’re happily kicking the ball between us. I use a couple of rocks to mark out a goal, and I stand in position, with Dylan trying to get the ball past me, and letting him more often than not. Holly has taken a seat on one of the benches and watches the two of us witha smile. I glance over and catch her eye occasionally, and each time her smile widens. Seeing Holly this happy makes me happy, too, and Dylan seems to be enjoying himself.
Out of breath, and with flushed cheeks, we make our way back to Holly.
“You boys ready to go get something to drink?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m dying of thirst,” Dylan says, gasping like a drowning fish and clutching at his throat. “Then can we come back and play?”
