Page 30 of In the Frame

Wow.

Was I actually bantering with Florian De Ligt? Flirting, even? My frothy imagination couldn’t conjure this up. But it’s easy enough for him to fake flirt for the sake of our fake standing as onetime fake partners. Especially from another continent. Extra safety insurance at that distance.

But even so, I’m smiling as I hurry to get my bag from home and catch the train to Brighton.

Chapter Fifteen

Noah meets me at Brighton Station. He lifts an eyebrow at me, my gray duffle bag slung over my shoulder. “Where’s your suit?” he asks archly. “It better not be stuffed in there.”

“Funny story, that.” I give him a sidelong look. “My suit’s run off and started a new life.”

“Let’s have it. I’ve been waiting for the latest installment.”

“Er, Florian lost my suit.”

“He what?” Noah looks at me, stunned. “Didn’t see that coming. Shock twist.”

We start to walk outside to join the queue for a taxi.

“You heard me. He called to let me know he lost it. I mean the suit, not his grip on sanity.”

“Holy shit.” Noah takes this in. “That would have been some phone call. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall on that conversation. He doesn’t sound like the sort to admit to mistakes.”

“Yeah, well. Actually, the dry cleaners lost it. So, it’s their mistake, in truth.”

“Hmm.” Noah rubs his jaw as we climb into the taxi. He gives the driver the name of our waterfront hotel, and we’re off. Then he glances at me again. “Maybe it’s their mistake, like you said. Or maybe he felt guilty about keeping your suit, and he needed a cover story to keep his souvenir of you.”

“What, like a trophy? I’m hardly a conquest.” I press my lips together. One disaster queer isn’t a prize, more of a liability, which Florian should know all about with his business acumen. “I believe him that the suit was lost. And he agreed to get me a replacement.”

“Well, where is it, then? Better not be in that bag, like I said.”

I shake my head. “Well, to blow your trophy theory out of the water, he called me earlier to say the dry cleaners found it and that they’d send it on to the hotel today for me.”

“Huh. Yeah, definitely a guilty conscience, knowing you needed it. I mean, what were you going to do?”

“Panic-buy or I guess rent a replacement suit that he agreed to pay for, except I was stressed, and nothing seemed right in the shops this morning. He called at the right moment.”

I may admit to the ongoing suit debacle to Noah, but I’m keeping the earlier phone banter with Florian all to myself. Because that feels too private, too new. Like something my growing crush would indulge in during an idle moment for lack of anything else.

Though who knew Florian was human? And here I thought he was all efficiency.

“Well.” Noah looks at me. “Sounds like another excuse to keep in touch with you.”

With a noncommittal shrug, I glide to the next topic. “Johan bailed.”

“Yeah, I heard. Sorry about that. You can hang out with me and Raheem. It’ll be cool.” Raheem’s Noah’s boyfriend, and he’s cooler than the rest of us all put together. They’ve been dating for a few months now.

“Thanks. I bet you love having a third wheel.”

Noah waves me off. “It’s a wedding. No third-wheel action tomorrow. We’re all celebrating together.”

“I feel bad, though, that they’re wasting a meal.”

“Don’t worry, some wedding crasher will come for a free dinner. I bet Brighton’s rife with them.”

“Yeah, the hungry queers of Brighton infiltrating Paul and Caden’s wedding.” I shake my head at him. “Anyway, I made it here. My suit’s supposed to make it here too. And I’m ready for lunch and the rehearsal. I’m starving.”

The taxi drops us off, and Noah pays. Before long, we’re checked into our hotel. Overlooking the sea from my room, more seagulls yell, cavorting in the air, and doubtless looking for a free meal. Probably I should invite them to the wedding collectively as my plus-one.