Daily Prompt: Fragrance
You might say I was spoilt for choice growing up. Surrounded by good men my whole life, my dad and poppa were the measure of what every man I met was judged. And well, the boys next door gave me plenty of practice – judging. Their’s is a gene pool to be bottled and sold by the crate.
Mr and Mrs Wilton were raising a house full of boys into men, right next door to me, and when you sat at the dinner table with them, which I did often, the not so subtle fragrance of male hormone mixed with sweat and dirty socks was intoxicating to a fourteen year old girl.
Wilton of course was my favourite, my best friend, my secret keeper – but it was Harri who fascinated me. The second oldest Wilton, he was the most exciting person I knew and he had barely known I existed. I loved him from the first day he stepped over Wilton and I at the gate, flicking Will on top of the head, hard, as he ran off to play cricket with his much older friends.
Will didn’t know I was in love with his brother, and had been since I was six. It was the one secret I didn’t trust him with. Life would become very complicated when he found out. By my fifteenth birthday both would be declaring their love and one would not speak to me again for a very long time.