Stay the Night

by Scarlett Parrish

  Steven shook his head slowly. “Nope. You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to hurt me, Kit.”

  “I never wanted—”

  “But you did.”

  My grip on him slackened but not enough to break contact.

  “Hadn’t you better let me go?”

  And even though nothing in his posture or muscle tension told me he thought of me as a threat—more like an irritation—I did so, by degrees. My grasp became nothing more than laying my hands on him and when I finally broke contact, Steven gave a quiet, mocking laugh.

  “I mean,” he went on, “you wouldn’t want anyone to see you touching another man, would you?”

  “What do you mean?” This made no sense. He’d told me to leave, but hadn’t made me, as he so easily could. He’d suggested I let him go and I had but he did nothing to move away from me. If anything, his self-confidence mocked me. He felt far more comfortable standing in his own skin than I did touching it. “I’m out. Everybody knows—”

  “Yeah. Everybody knows you’re gay. You just don’t want anyone to know you’re human. I don’t think there’s much danger of that any more. You’re a fucking robot, sometimes, Kit. I mean you—”

  The thought, my God, he tastes good, drifted through my mind and only afterwards did I realise I wasn’t imagining it. If, for a nanosecond, I’d felt him resist, I would have stopped; I would have disentangled my hands from his hair and pulled away, but there was no resistance, just tension born of shock that I’d dared, then he melted against me.

  I knew I had him when his hands came to rest on my waist, resting there for a second before he pulled me in.

  He might have melted against me but one part was still hard.

  “Are you sure you should be doing this?” Steven murmured. I hadn’t realised what was happening when I’d kissed him and now, I hadn’t realised who’d broken it, but at least he didn’t push me away.

  “Kissing you? Why?”

  He shrugged, glancing over my shoulder and nodding at the living room doorway.

  “People might see you kissing me and we can’t have that, can we?”

  I looked over my shoulder, wondering if he’d nodded at anyone in particular but there was no-one there. No-one watching us. When I looked back at Steven, he laughed.

  “You’re still scared someone might see you vulnerable. Or turned on, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t care about them. I don’t fucking care if they see.”

  Steven’s lips parted but he said nothing, giving a very good impression of a man surprised by what I’d said.

  “Is there someone else here?”

  Coming back to life, he rolled his eyes. “Kit, there are lots of other people here. Tiff, Jason, Isaac, Gemma, Gary, others. My mates. Then you.”

  “You know what I mean. Have you got someone else here?” Jesus, now I sounded like a crazy bastard.

  “No. No. What the hell do you think I am? Do you think—”

  “I’m staying.”

  “Oh, you’re—you’re staying?”

  “Yeah.” Only then did I realise I was still touching him, palms laid flat against his chest by now, no longer holding him against me, pulling him by the hair or arms, just touching. As soon as I noticed, I lifted my hands away. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Even though you’re not wanted here?” He smirked, daring me to argue.

  “Gemma and Gary want me here.”

  The smirk disappeared.

  “They tricked me into coming so they must have thought it was a good idea, and if you kick me out, you’ll have to disappoint them and you did invite them, right? I mean, they’re still your friends and you can’t embarrass them by telling me to piss off—”

  “Fuck off, Kit. I believe I told you to fuck off.”

  “Semantics.” I shrugged.

  “I can’t believe you were determined to get me out of your house and now you won’t leave mine.”

  “Now I’m here, I might as well stay.” I backed away a step, adjusted the hang of my jacket across my shoulders by shrugging, then ran a hand through my hair.

  “Might as well,” Steven echoed, and this time I couldn’t tell if he was mocking, agreeing or simply rolling the words around his tongue to see how they fit. And he cleared his throat.

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  I didn’t know if I audibly exhaled in relief, but the pressure inside me eased just a little.

  A minor victory. But now I had the rest of the evening to get through. I was certain Steven would torture me first before talking, to ensure I suffered a just punishment for treating him so dismissively. Circulate, entertain his guests, have nothing to do with me in public, but I probably deserved it. And it was a start.

  Chapter Fifteen

  So I was hyper-conscious of Steven all evening, shooting glances his way at every opportunity? It was entirely mutual. He’d lever himself off the floor—the settee and armchairs being already overloaded with houseguests—and head to the kitchen to grab himself another beer; my eyes would follow his course automatically. I’d step past him on my way to the bathroom; he’d run a hand through his hair and catch my eye with a tilt of his head. We made our mutual attention more obvious with our failed efforts to completely ignore each other.

  Gemma’s efforts failed too. Her attempts to not look smug met with as much success as Gary’s. Look at you two, trying not to look at each other, her frequent smirks said. I would have told her to shut the hell up if acknowledging my discomfiture at merely being there wouldn’t have made her grin even wider. Plus, Gary. Actually, it was more like ‘Gary plus alcohol equals Kit keeps his mouth shut’.

  As the evening wore on I got more and more jumpy though I hoped I hid it well, covering over my inner turmoil by—and I could barely believe it myself— socialising. Antisocial Kit Blackman, actually starting conversations with people he didn’t know to distract him from the one man he wanted. Needed. And it wasn’t half bad. I started off by using these fellow partygoers as a prop, and found out I had shit in common with them. An interest in this sport or that, an opinion on some politician or another. A liking for any random television show.

  Fifteen minutes into a chat with an attractive blonde with a cleavage I’d have wanted to lose myself in if I’d been straight, I happened to glance across the room and catch Steven smiling at Tiffany about God knew what and my breath caught in my throat. It was only when his eyes met mine that I regained my ability to exhale and continue the conversation with Anna.

  Bloody hell, Kit—what’s come over you? At a housewarming party, talking to people, remembering their names.

  “Would I be wasting my time if I asked for your number?”

  “I…” Startled, I widened my eyes and wondered if I’d heard her right. I took a swig of beer to calm my nerves, ever conscious of not drinking too fast. I wanted all my faculties intact for the conversation ahead of me, even if I had no idea of what I’d say.

  “Or are you a friend of Steven’s?” Anna suggested, politely giving me an out.

  “Um…” My face heated up and I gave a watery smile.

  “Damn it. It’s always the good-looking ones. I should have known. Well-dressed. Sober. Gay. Still.” She shrugged, gave a playful, no-hard-feelings smile. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “I’m flattered and if I ever switch sides…”

  “I’ll be first in line.”

  The conversation petered out with no hard feelings on either side and in fact my fragile ego received something of a lift. I believed I may even have smiled to myself as Anna left to go and search for her friends before heading home.

  “Kit Blackman, are you actually talking to people?” Gary leaned against the kitchen countertop and gave me the unfocused, glassy-eyed smile of the happily drunk.

  “Screw you.”

  “I’m not your type.”

  “You’d be surprised, sugar.”

  “Hey, I’m not that fucking drunk.” He stood up straight—or
at least tried to—and wobbled a little. Actually, a lot. “Gemma just called a cab. Says I’m drunk, apparently, and we’ve got to go home for some mad monkey sex before I get brewer’s droop—”

  “Jesus, Lacey.”

  “Do you want to come? I mean—no, God. I’m not inviting you. Like I said, I’m not that drunk. I mean. Are you sharing our cab, or coming back later?”

  I shook my head to rid it of the horrific images a pissed Gary had painted there, thinking Anna would have been a better bet. “I was gonna hang back. See if I can…”

  “Sort things with Steven? Yeah, we thought it’d look good if you stayed. Me and Gemma, I mean. Least you guys aren’t at each other’s throats. Maybe other bits.”

  “Shut up, Lacey. Don’t you have a home to go to?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Don’t worry…”

  Guests drifted away. Gary and Gemma jumped in that cab. Others said they’d walk each other home. Some called friends to ask for a lift, or to suggest a carpool. Those looks between Steven and I got more frequent, more lingering, less surreptitious. The fewer people there were around to witness this silent communication, the less chance there was of me making a fool of myself.

  And it was only when Tiffany and her dual paramours were the only other people in the flat that I realised I didn’t care. I’d already fucked up beyond all recognition anyway.

  Hopefully it wasn’t fucked up beyond all repair.

  “And to think.” Tiffany flung an arm round Isaac’s shoulders. Or maybe it was Jason’s.

  I was sober, but too close to the end of the night to care. Too close to Steven. “The police weren’t called this time.”

  “Yeah.” Steven grinned. “We’re winning with tiger blood on that score.”

  “Wait.” The only non-Kenton family member in the narrow hallway—Jason and Isaac, as harem members, still counted in that respect—I felt like a bit of an interloper but spoke up anyway. “The police weren’t called this time?”

  “Yep.” Tiffany nodded, grinning widely. Pride shone out of every pore. Pride or shamelessness, one or the other. “Last time one of Steven’s mates got arrested. Oh, and my ex fell asleep on the pavement outside and woke up with glittery stars glued to his nuts.”

  “Thank God we never let you have that housewarming you suggested back home—” I looked at Steven, biting my lip as I did so, wondering if any reference to us having lived together was not to be mentioned, but he shrugged, casual, nonchalant and effortlessly sexy—

  No, Blackman. Don’t think like that.

  But it was hard not to.

  “Wait,” I said again. “Your ex. But I’ve just managed to wrap my head around these two…”

  “Just as I wrap my legs around them most nights.” That shameless grin again. One couldn’t help but adore her.

  Steven groaned. “I don’t wanna think about that.”

  “Fine, fine.” She turned to me again. “See how protective he is? So sweet. So pukeworthy. But yeah. Darren was my ex before I met these two. No wonder. I mean, it’s bad enough falling asleep on the pavement outside, but to let someone glue glitter and paper stars to your nuts? Jeez.”

  “I know I’m gonna regret asking this, but why was your friend arrested?” I asked Steven.

  “He was the one who did the glu—”

  “Okay, okay, I don’t wanna know. Forget I ever asked.”

  Jason threw his head back and laughed. “Nice meeting you, Kit, but we’d better be off. Tiff, we’ll head out and give you a call in the morning.” He leant down to kiss her, as did Isaac and I politely refrained from asking why neither of them were staying.

  As I glanced across at Steven again, he shook his head. Don’t ask.

  Tiffany saw the last two stragglers to the door, said her goodbyes then wished us good night and disappeared into her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her and I looked from it, back to Steven.

  “And then there were two,” he said, still leaning against the wall as he had earlier soon after my arrival. But now he looked languid and relaxed, rather than confrontational and shut off. Or so I fancied. “Well?”

  My eyes widened automatically. “Well what?”

  “You came here. I thought you had something to say. Excuses to make, no?” He straightened, uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. His gaze was unwavering and that was the only thing that told me I still had his full attention. I had to look at him to know he was still willing to listen.

  “No. I mean, not excuses. Jesus, you like to put me on the spot, don’t you? Say nothing all evening then jump straight into it.”

  “I had guests to see to. It would have been impolite if I’d dragged you into some dark corner for a blowjob and a deep and meaningful conversation.”

  “I stayed for the conversation, but I don’t know what to think—”

  “Yeah, silly of me. Blowjobs never seem to end well with us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, one or two have…um…yeah.” Awkward now, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, scratched at my ear with one hand, wondered what to do with the other. I knew what I wanted to do with it. “That time in the bathroom. I still think about that.”

  “I try not to.”

  Ouch. “I probably deserved that.” I continued tugging at my earlobe, avoided his gaze for a moment while I gathered my thoughts. “You know, anything I can think of to say, it just makes me sound like a dick.”

  “Let’s just assume you’re a dick anyway, and take it from there.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered. “Okay, look. Gary and Gemma tricked me into being here tonight, so I didn’t want to come—”

  “We’ve already established that—”

  “Just let me finish.”

  Steven pressed his lips together and nodded, a silent go ahead.

  “I didn’t want to come, but when I got here I wanted to stay. But…” I took a deep breath. “Not if you want me to go.”

  “It’s late.”

  “I could walk. Call a cab. Get the night bus. I don’t have to be here. I’ve already told you enough times that I want to be. I stayed all evening with a crowd of people I don’t even know. I don’t know what else—”

  “And you even talked to some.”

  “Yeah, it’s an evening of surprises, isn’t it? Look. I’m here now, but I’m not going to force my company on someone who doesn’t want me here. I’ve had enough of that before, so—”

  “With me?”

  “What?”

  “Do you mean with me? Forcing your company on me?” Steven’s brow wrinkled, but in a frown of evident curiosity. Not a scowl of frustration or anger. “You seem stuck on believing that I never wanted you—”

  “No. I mean with others,” I blurted out. “Exes and shit. You know. Falling out with old boyfriends. Making an arse of myself. Kinda like I’m doing now.”

  “Oh, I dunno. I kinda like your arse.”

  Ah. A chink in his armour. The temperature rose a degree or five.

  “Ah, I mean when you…never mind.” He waved a casual hand at me. “Carry on.”

  “Carry on being an arse?”

  Steven cleared his throat. “Whatever you were saying.”

  “Christ, I’m gonna sound like such an idiot saying this.”

  “So what’s new?”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry. Go on. Honestly. I’m listening.”

  “I haven’t been in a relationship for a while.”

  Steven’s eyebrows shot up and I waited for the inevitable no wonder, but it never came.

  “Mainly because the last one ended badly. You know. Fights. All over petty shit. We lived together.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Shared a flat. Anyway, there was a whole shit storm over taking over the tenancy agreement, neither of us wanted to be the one to move out, or being too proud to. Ex sex. For no reason other than we’d fight and get horny and…”

  “Angry sex?”

  �
�Yeah.”

  “Oh yeah.” Steven nodded, the vaguest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

  Well, well, well, Steven. Do we have some common ground here? “It got to the point where we’d still be insulting each other even while we were fucking.”

  “He really fucked you up that badly that you’d still…even these days…?”

  “No. No. I’m not carrying any, God, what’s the phrase? Baggage. Not from him, anyway. It was just the similarities. Living with someone. And I swore off anything serious.

  It worked.” I nodded. “It did. For a while. But with you, I didn’t want to make assumptions. I didn’t want to give you the impression I was hoping for anything more. In case I looked clingy. Put you on the spot. You know, what with the whole living together thing.”

  “And now we’re not.”

  “No. Now we’re not.”

  “I can’t work out whether that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  “Oh. Really?” I swallowed back a thousand things I could have said, prayed he would step in and fill the silence instead.

  “Good because you don’t feel crowded and panicky and what-if-this-shit-goes-wrong and bad because…”

  “Because?”

  “Well, it sucks not getting laid.”

  I snorted with laughter. Couldn’t fucking help it. But the laughter died in response to the okay, let’s get serious expression on Steven’s face.

  “Explain the not-looking-at-you stuff then,” he blurted out.

  “You what?”

  “Go on. You never let me look at you. You never wanted me to fuck you face to face.”

  “Jesus, go for the burn, why don’t you, Kenton?”

  “No point wasting any more time, is there?”

  “You…” I pointed at him, tapping the air with an extended forefinger, keeping time with my thudding heartbeat. “You looked at me funny.”

  “Funny?”

  “Different. Weird. No. Fuck.”

  “Oh, look. Kit Blackman’s panicking again.”

  “All right, all right, I didn’t fucking like the way you looked at me.”

  “What, like I wanted you?”