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Wrapping my arms around my knees, I press my cold, bare feet against the fabric of the armchair, trying to make them the centre of my awareness. The alternative is to give into the temptation to pull my hair. A cotton-covered seam sits under my left big toe; I concentrate on finding three adjectives to describe the feel of it.
Coarse. Warm. Ridged.
Closing my eyes, I rub my toe over it again and again, until Neil’s diatribe finally peters out.
Bristly. Ribbed. Rough.
“You’re such a great listener, Luke, you know?”
He smiles at me. Abstractedly, I register it’s a beautiful smile. He’s a stupidly gorgeous man, and it runs more than skin deep, even though he’s not especially demonstrating that now.
“You let me get this all off my chest. Sorry it’s so late, but I had to tell someone. It’s the only way I can handle it. Oh, and those fucking tablets, by the way. Had to stop for a piss in McDonalds on the way back from the meeting. When did you say it’s going to settle down? ‘Cos if it carries on like this, then I don’t care how much they reduce the pressure behind my eyes—I’m going to knock them on the head.”
He glances at his phone. “Fuck, is it that late already? I’m supposed to be closing shop in half an hour.” He leaps up. “Sorry it’s such a fleeting visit, but I’ve got to dash. I’ll make it up to you. I just needed to check you were still alive and I hadn’t upset you in some way. Dinner, my place this Friday, like we talked about?”
“Sure.”
Now’s not the moment to tell him I’m going away for a few days. I’ll text him tomorrow, tell him it’s a last-minute thing.
Politely, I stand too, pushing down a wave of dizziness. He smacks a kiss onto my cheek as he slips past me, then reverses. “Hey, why didn’t you come to the club tonight, after finishing work? I was looking out for you. Are you still feeling a bit ropey from your cold?”
“Um…yeah. Something like that.”
With two fingers under my chin, he tilts it to examine me properly “You’re pale. Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Neil doesn’t need my shit on top of his own. “Yeah. There’s another virus going around at work. Sorry. I needed a quiet one. You should probably keep your distance.”
He pulls me into another rib-crushing hug. “You need to hurry up and get well soon, rash whisperer. We’ve got some serious volcano uncorking to do.”
CHAPTER 18
NEIL
Feeling so much better after offloading all my dramas onto Luke, I jog back to the bar. Sharing my secret with him is the best thing I’ve done in a while. Him being so cute helps, all snuggled up in his hoodie and curled into a ball. Adorable. Last night as I lay in bed thinking about him, I even managed a wank, sort of. Well, mostly.
One thing for sure. I’m sacking off those Fighting Blindness meetings. Derek can get to fuck unless he wants me to fight him. I’ll sort things out on my own, the same way I’ve arranged my flat so I never lose stuff and don’t trip arse over tit. The other day, I went online and bought a pile of scannable stickers. Attach them to the cheese and ham in my fridge, run my phone over the QR code, and a posh woman’s voice tells me I’ve got two days left before I’m eating mould. Even better, the stickers are so discreet, even if one of my mates helps himself to a cheese sandwich, he probably wouldn’t notice. I don’t need the stickers yet, but it’s good to be prepared. And I’ve had no recent mishaps. My blue-tinted, John Lennon style sunglasses help with the cataract. If anyone else is around, I don’t wear them indoors—I’d look acomplete tit. But outside on a sunny day, as a fashion statement? For sure.
When the rewind button in my brain finally slams down and informs me I’m a bloody idiot, I’m close enough to the bar to make out our funky neon light.Under the weather?Switching off his phone?Who the fuck does that unless something is seriously wrong?
Or…what if I’m seriously wrong for him, and he’s letting me down lightly?
“You’re not always the main character, Neil!” I shout into the leaden skies like a lunatic. Fortunately, hardly anyone is around.
Luke. His duvet in a pile on the sofa. A vague, musty, unwashed scent. I could barely see a fucking thing, but my man sat as far away from me as his cosy snug allowed, wrapped up in his own arms like he was protecting himself against a hurricane. AKA me. And did my whiskey-addled brain pick up on it?
Did it fuck. Oh no. I barged in, dumped all the crap I should be man enough to get to grips with on my own, then fucked off again.
I smack my palm against my forehead. I have one good thing going for me right now, and I’m trying my best to blow it.Do better, Neil.
I thumb a hurried text to Jess.Close shop for me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Something important has come up.
I knock on Luke’s door again, more softly this time, praying he’s not gone straight to bed. I send a text too, telling him the idiot hanging around his doorstep and needing to apologise is me.
Because he’s Luke and he’s nice, he answers the door, eyeing me warily as if waiting for the catch. All washed out, he moves like it hurts, as if the life in him flickers low. His clothes look slept in. For fuck's sake. Why didn’t I notice all this the firsttime around? I swear I have the emotional intelligence of a brick sometimes.
“Hi, it’s me again.”
“Hi.”
