by Nicola Haken
“Thirty-four.”
Shit. Holy hell, I was glad he didn’t ask me to guess first. Although I may as well have because my gob couldn’t seem to stop itself from spluttering, “Oh honey, you need to moisturise more.”
Seb’s mouth dropped open and a winded chuckle flew from his chest. “Are you saying I look old now, too?”
“No, no! But your skin right here…” Reaching up, I ran the pad of my thumb along the top of his cheekbone and the rest of my sentence evaporated from my brain. It was softer than I’d expected. Warmer. My lips dried and my pulse spiked, and it wasn’t until my eyes began to sting that I realised I’d forgotten the art of blinking, too. “Skin care’s important,” I said, snatching my thumb away before forcing a nervous cough.
I started to wish I had worn make-up, blusher at least, to disguise the heat that had rushed to my cheeks. Thankfully we were in the car so he had to pay more attention to the road than to me. Small mercies.
“So, uh,” he stuttered, and I wondered if he felt the sudden shift in atmosphere too. I wondered if his pulse raced, if his breath faltered when I touched him, if his throat felt a little tighter… “What kinda music do you like? ‘Cause personally, I don’t mind a little Backstreet Boys now and then.”
“I’m a huge Mika fan. We have a similar range to our voices. I incorporate a lot of his songs into my act.”
“Your act?”
“I do drag,” I answered, studying the side of his face for a reaction. Not everyone, even gay guys, was into it – not in a partner anyway. Discrimination was rife even within our own community. It only took one scroll through Grindr and the endless lists of No Fats, No Femmes, No Bis, No Queens, profiles to see that.
I knew instantly, from the way Seb’s eyebrow rose and his lips twisted into a smile, that he wasn’t one of those guys though.
“I used to do Fridays until I got the bartender job, then I switched to Saturdays. You should come and see Miss Tique in action. She’ll show you a good time.”
“That’s…” he trailed off, shaking his head a little as he pulled onto the motorway. “I feel like you’re full of surprises, Oliver Clayton. What else are you hiding up your sleeve, eh?”
I chuckled, from nerves more than amusement. The only other ‘surprise’ was Tyler, but I wanted to see if this, whatever this was, led anywhere before I mentioned him. I enjoyed the way Seb looked at me. I liked his smile. I liked how he made me feel. I didn’t want to ruin that by making him pity me, which he would after hearing my sob story. Everybody did.
“Erm…I love fried eggs, but don’t like the yolk. I work full time in a salon as a senior stylist, and my favourite colour is purple,” I said as the giant glass domes of the Trafford Centre came into view. “Will that do?”
Snapping his indicator into place, Seb veered into the exit lane. “Purple suits you,” he said.
I could only assume he was referring to the night we met. I’d noticed how his gaze lingered on my lips that night, and I liked it. “It’s something I only tend to do for work. The make-up I mean.” I didn’t know why I explained myself to him. I’d never told anyone my reasons before. Somehow, I just felt relaxed enough in his presence to keep going. “It makes me feel bold and confident. I like how I look in it, and I guess I feel safe enough to be myself there, in the confines of the salon or the bar. Out here though…” I nodded toward the window. “The rest of the world is such a judgy place. I s’pose I just try to blend in as much as I can.”
Silence followed as Seb turned the car into one of the huge car parks – a thick, uncomfortable quiet that made me think I’d made myself sound pathetic and now Seb didn’t know how to respond. He reversed into a space between two other cars, show off, before cutting off the engine and turning to me.
His brown eyes bored right into mine and for a second it felt like he understood, like he saw me, like he was me in some way. “The world isn’t always a nice place,” he said. “But for the record, I think you look far too incredible to blend in. With or without purple lips.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Is it working?”
I offered a casual shrug as I clicked off my seatbelt. “Maybe.”
Laughing, Seb clambered out of the car and I followed. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he waited for me to join him by the bonnet before saying, “As it happens, I don’t like the white.”
“Eh?” I quizzed, furrowing my brow in confusion.
“Of the egg. You and me? It’s destiny.”
Tilting my head, I chuckled.
“Now, take me shopping.”
* * *
Six hours and countless shops later, Seb and I stepped out of the shopping centre, armed with a dozen or so bags, to find it’d turned dark outside. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard, my feet ached, and my jaw felt like it could break if I smiled any wider. I couldn’t remember a day where I’d had so much fun, and all I’d done was watch another man shop… or attempt to.
He was utterly useless when it came to fashion, and to what would suit his tall, stocky frame. It made me think I’d chosen a terrible place for a first date, especially when he admitted he was only here yesterday choosing his outfit for today…which I’d already insulted. But, he seemed to enjoy having me as his own personal style guide. He laughed at my enthusiasm, seemed impressed with the clothes I picked out, and he particularly liked it when I took hold of his hand to drag him from store to store, so my guilt quickly faded.
I bought a couple of things for myself so I didn’t look weird, but I planned to return them another day. I needed every penny I had for Tyler’s trip to France.
“It’s unnatural,” I said, laughing as we jogged down the steps that overlooked the car park. I was teasing Seb about the fact he ate the gherkins on his Big Mac when we finished our mammoth shopping expedition with a McDonald’s in the huge food court that was set out like a giant ship. I’m pretty sure he was the first person I’d ever met who didn’t pick the slimy little buggers off. He even ate mine.
“They don’t even really taste of anything,” he argued. “So there’s nothing not to like.”
“They’re wet and slimy.” I shuddered. “Ugh.”
“So you don’t like anything wet and slimy in your mouth. Got it.”
Who knew you could choke on air? Not me, but I managed it.
After swatting his shoulder, I cocked my head towards one of the crescent-shaped stone benches in front of us. “Come on,” I said, running up to it. “Selfie!”
Placing my bags on the floor, I stepped up onto the bench and dug into my pocket for my phone. Still on the ground, Seb looked at me like I’d lost my mind before shaking his head and smiling. He did that a lot, I’d discovered. Climbing up next to me, he lined his face up next to mine, so close I could smell the aftershave he wore and I had to fight really hard not to close my eyes and groan. Fuck, he smelled good. Spicy and delicious.
Thankfully, the streetlights above illuminated our faces enough to get a clear picture as I lined the camera up in front of us. “Say cheese!” I said, pressing my cheek into Seb’s, the contact sparking fireworks in every nerve ending in my body as I snapped the photo that I planned to stare at for hours when I got home.
Lowering the phone, our cheeks still touching, my pulse thudding in my ears, my mind became overrun with the desire to know what he tasted like. A lump formed in my throat, my heart hammered in my chest, and I slowly shuffled to face him…
Only he got further and further away from me as I lost my balance and found myself landing on the concrete floor with a thud.
“Fucking hell, are you okay?” Seb was on his knees beside me before I’d had time to fully register what’d happened.
No. I wasn’t okay. I was frigging mortified. Lying on my arm, which I’d instinctively used to break my fall, with two strangers now approaching, I felt like a humungous bellend.
“Is he okay?” one of the strangers asked Seb as if I were too stupid to answer myself. In realit
y they probably thought I was too injured or shocked, but I was embarrassed so it was easier to hate them.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, taking Seb’s proffered arm and scrambling to my feet.
The strangers nodded and left to go about their lives, while Seb gently gripped my elbow, drawing my hurt arm towards him.
I sucked in a hiss, squeezing my eyes closed as if that would lessen the pain radiating from my wrist. “What a dickhead,” I muttered, more to myself than to Seb.
“It’s swelling already. We need to get this checked out.”
Groaning, I didn’t dare look at it. Please don’t be broken, was all I could think. How the hell would I do my job, any of my jobs, with a broken wrist? If I couldn’t work…I couldn’t even think about that now. Not here. Not in front of Seb. Because I’d have cried, and I’d embarrassed myself enough already.
“Can you move it?”
Dragging a deep breath into my lungs, I attempted to flex my wrist. “Ah!” I bit down on my bottom lip to stop me from yelling a string of expletives in a public space.
Seb turned and quickly gathered our shopping bags from the ground while I held onto my arm and silently cursed my uncoordinated feet. “Come on,” Seb said, offering an amused smile that I didn’t understand until he added, “Let’s go finish up our date with a few hours in A and E.”
As soon as we stepped into A and E we were met with a board which told us the approximate waiting time was three hours. Fantastic. I’d never been on a romantic date before but I was fairly certain they weren’t supposed to pan out quite like this. Yet, it was still kinda perfect.
After giving my details to the receptionist, I texted Tyler - left handed, which took twice as long as normal - to let him know I’d be late home and to make sure he was okay, and then Rhys in case he saw my whereabouts on the tracker app and thought my date had tried to kill me. Twenty minutes later, the triage nurse assessed my injury and gave me some painkillers before sending me back to the busy waiting room until a doctor became available.
The three-hour wait turned into four, but it passed surprisingly quickly despite the pain I was in. I’d spent most of the day talking about myself, mainly because Seb asked lots of questions, but now it was his turn. I think he did it to take my mind off my wrist, which had rapidly turned a violent shade of purple, but whatever his reason I could’ve listened to him telling me about himself forever.
I wasn’t shocked to discover he drove big trucks for a living. I’d already pegged him as having a very hands-on job, something typically ‘masculine’, like maybe a mechanic or a builder. When we’d held hands earlier he had a strong grip and a slight roughness to his skin, something which told me he used them often.
He told me about his parents, who sounded cool, and the rest of his family. His grandparents on his mother’s side were still alive and he had a string of aunties and uncles, and an army of cousins. He described it as a pain in the arse at Christmas but, even though I knew he was joking, I couldn’t help think he had no idea how lucky he was.
“How’s it feeling?” Seb asked when he caught me staring at my swollen wrist.
We were in a cubicle now, waiting for the results of my X-ray. Despite the swelling, I’d managed to move it slightly so I held hope that it wasn’t broken. “Like it’s been run over by a bus. Maybe I need to lose a few pounds.”
“Oh please. You’re just fishing for compliments.”
Sniggering, I exhaled a puff of laughter through my nose. “This is technically your fault. Isn’t Bond supposed to save his girl?”
Lowering his head, Seb glanced up at me through his eyelashes. “You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?”
I simply smirked.
“I tried, but you were…”
Is he…Oh my God! He actually started laughing at me!
“…You were too fast! One second you were there, and then…then you were weren’t! I suppose I should cross Knight in Shining Armour off my CV.”
“Absolutely. It’s false advertising. Either work on your gallantry skills or downgrade to Bellend in Bubble Wrap.”
“Oi! You’re still with me, so what does that say about you?”
“That the pain made me delirious, resulting in poor decision choices.”
Throwing a hand to his chest, he faked a hurt expression, which made me laugh even harder.
“At least you got your wish about me wearing purple,” I added, nodding towards the bruising which was slowly spreading up my arm. At the rate it was darkening, I suspected it would be almost black by morning.
“Gotta be honest with you,” Seb said, wincing. “I’d have created a lot more drama. I don’t cope well with pain at all.”
I studied his face to see if that were the truth or if he was just trying to make me feel better. “Well, when waxing your bollocks is as big a part of your daily routine as brushing your teeth, you tend to develop a higher threshold for pain,” I said, winking.
Seb’s eyes widened, maybe even watered a little. His lips parted, either from shock, horror, or to reply with something sarcastic, but he was interrupted by the sound of a doctor ripping the curtain to my cubicle open.
“Good news, Mr Clayton. There’s no evidence of any fractures in your X-rays.”
Thank God. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you.”
“It’s more than likely a nasty sprain, but that’s some pretty hefty swelling you’ve got there,” he said, reaching out to poke and prod at my wrist once again. “Which can happen if you landed particularly awkwardly. A nurse will come through in a few minutes with a compression bandage. Rest, ice, and ibuprofen for seventy-two hours should send this swelling down. And if you can, keep it elevated. The nurse will provide you with an aftercare leaflet. Any questions?”
“Nope, don’t think so.” Really, I just wanted to go home. I hadn’t checked my phone since we were in the waiting room, but it must’ve been after midnight by now. Tyler was alone, I had work in the morning, and the buses would’ve stopped which meant I’d either have to waste money on a taxi or let Seb take me home and see the craphole estate I lived on.
Thankfully, the nurse turned up within a few minutes like the doctor said, rolled on my bandage, which hurt like a motherfucker, and talked me through the aftercare before sending me home. Seb insisted on driving me, which was sweet of him, especially when he had work tomorrow – or rather today – too. So, swallowing my embarrassment, I gave him my address.
He didn’t judge me, of course he didn’t, and I shouldn’t have expected less. I might’ve only spent a day with him but, somehow, I already felt like I’d known him a lifetime. He was just that kinda guy. Easy company. Genuine. Fun.
“It’s that one,” I said, pointing to my terraced house through the windscreen. “With the, uh, broken fence,” I added, ashamed of my crappy fence that surrounded my crappy house on my crappy estate.
Seb slowed the car to a stop, pulling over onto the curb before twisting in his seat and clicking off my seatbelt for me.
“Thanks,” I said, holding my injured, and currently useless, arm in the air. “I had fun today.”
Nodding towards my bandage, Seb grinned. “Fun? Do I need to start researching the BDSM scene before we go any further? ‘Cause right now the only thing I associate with the terms dom and sub are Pepperoni Passion on a thin and crispy, and a Meatball Marinara footlong.”
No, but I needed to research witty comebacks because I wasn’t nearly smart enough to keep up with this man. “Are you flirting with me?” I asked, my voice a little breathless as I inched a touch closer to him.
“Is it working?”
Damn, he was close. So close, yet not close enough. There was a bond between us, a pull drawing me into him that was far too potent for me to understand. All I knew is that I couldn’t have stopped myself from touching him even if I’d wanted to. Reaching up with my left hand, I cupped the back of his neck and breathed, “Yes.”
His lips touched mine a breath later, sendin
g the most delicious shiver down my spine. Closing my eyes, the world disappeared. Nothing existed except my senses and the body of this man in front of me. The taste of his mouth danced on my tongue and the feel of his hands wandering down my back tickled every nerve in my body, right down to my toes.
It was slow and gentle, soft and sensual, the kind of kiss romance flicks were built on. Everything I’d imagined and more. So much more. It was also the kind of kiss that made my cock swell in my jeans, which was pretty damn uncomfortable with the position I was in, hence why I pulled my lips away and dropped my forehead to his.
“I’m getting better at flirting,” Seb whispered, his warm breath fanning my face. “I should do it more often.”
Smiling, I placed a final kiss on his lips, committing the feel of them to memory, before pulling away. “You should,” I agreed. “And I’m happy to let you practice on me.”
I knew I had to leave, which is why I opened the car door, but damn I didn’t want to. Although, I’d be glad to stand up and adjust my jeans to relieve the pressure on the bloody erection that showed no signs of waning. The most frustrating part of that was I wouldn’t even be able to wank it away when I got inside with my stupid wrist being out of action.
“I’ll call you?” It came out like a question as I swung one leg out of the car.
“You better. Night, Oliver.”
Not many people called me Oliver, mainly Olli. I liked the sound of it on his lips. “G’night.”
After walking down the path to my front door, I waited until he’d driven away before going inside. The house was in darkness, and I headed straight upstairs without bothering to see if the kitchen and living room were a tip. I didn’t even bother with my usual skincare routine, choosing instead to run a cleansing wipe over my face before stripping out of my clothes and climbing into bed.
I wasn’t tired, despite it being two AM, but I closed my eyes anyway and concentrated on the giddy feeling floating around in my stomach. It was an unfamiliar sensation. New and exciting. I liked it. I wanted more of it.