by Liam Livings
“I won’t,” Nick replied, entirely regretting the kisses and the flirting of a few nights ago and wishing he could rewind and delete that particular portion of the evening. Dancing to ‘Runaround Sue’ blaring from his phone in an imitation of a scene from Sleeping With The Enemy hadn’t been his finest hour either, but for some reason, Tony had gone with it. Had he been enjoying it, or had he been humouring Nick, being polite?
“Don’t jump straight into another relationship. You need to be yourself. After what happened with him. I worry about you—putting yourself through all that again so soon. No.”
“That is the plan,” Nick said, knowing it was becoming harder and harder to stick with this plan the more he spent time with Tony. “But what if I’m sort of in something now, already, with this friend?”
“Then I suggest you sort of get yourself out of whatever it is you’ve sort of got into as quickly as possible. For your own good. You know it makes sense.”
She was right. It did make sense. He did need to look after his heart. But there was another part of him that felt drawn inexorably towards Tony and all the fun they’d been having together.
“Food for thought.” Unsure where else he could go with this conversation, Nick thanked his mother and ended the call.
***
A few days later, Tony had finished the main thing he’d been working on that morning and was feeling rather satisfied with himself. He looked across at Nick, who was buried deep in reading the file of a new client he’d been given. Since the night of the kisses and the dancing in the kitchen, Nick hadn’t mentioned either. It must be because they were a mistake, Tony decided. Why else would Nick have asked him back to his place and danced to that catchy sixties song in the kitchen with him?
“I went on a date,” Tony said, looking up and catching Nick’s eyes.
“When?”
“Last night.” Now that Tony was telling Nick about it, he suddenly regretted starting the conversation.
“I thought you were giving all that fandango a rest?”
He had said that. Tony had definitely agreed to step off the dating treadmill and be for a while. It had been exhausting lately, date after date, feeling as if he had met someone who was perfect for him, only to be dumped, although much of that was probably due to the categories he was lurking among on the dating websites. ‘Married men seeking fun’ was hardly the place to find lasting commitment.
“Married?” Nick asked.
“Not quite.” Tony felt that described, as best as possible, the situation the other man had been in.
“In a relationship?” Nick probed, resting his hands on his lap.
Tony nodded, feeling the guilt at returning to his old habits and then being surprised when things all turned to shit. Again.
“How was the, err, date?” Nick stared at him with those big, brown eyes, and Tony again felt regret for what he’d done with the guy on the date.
Because Tony didn’t want to tell Nick that they’d gone for a drink, got drunk and he’d ended up giving the guy a blow job in an alley around the back of the bar. Now he was getting flashbacks of what he’d done, he cringed with shame and said, “It was over quickly.” Which was actually true. The man had come in Tony’s mouth and then walked off, leaving him with dirty trousers from kneeling on the ground and an empty, guilty feeling in his stomach.
Why he’d done it, he was less sure. Probably because at his core, Tony was a sex-obsessed man, like the ones he seemed to attract, and after a few weeks of no dating, he’d needed a release. Plus, the kisses with Nick had ignited in him feelings he’d not been able to resolve. Although he’d got a boner that night, they hadn’t gone further, so Tony had needed to take things into his own hands as soon as possible afterwards.
“Will you see this bloke again?” Nick asked, and Tony simply shook his head.
Why would he bother seeing that guy again? The dance he’d shared with Nick that evening in his house had been so much more sensual and erotic than the blow job in the back alley. And he and Nick had not even undone their flies. OK, so they’d both been hard, Tony could feel Nick pressing against him through his trousers, but the combination of the music, the alcohol, their arms around each other’s waists and the kisses meant that Tony had needed to stop himself from jerking down Nick’s trousers and blowing him there and then in the kitchen.
“Probably best,” Nick said. “If you’re having a break from all that. I’m enjoying mine.” He lowered his eyes in a sign that perhaps he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Sorry for the drunken dancing. I got…”
Glancing around to make sure no one had heard them, Tony said, “Not to worry. Me too. I’m glad we stopped. I don’t usually stop, not once I’ve…”
“Me neither,” Nick said awkwardly, looking away for a moment and stroking his almost-beard.
“For the best,” Tony said, whispering now. “I’ve got plenty of guys I can fuck, but I don’t want to fuck up, you know?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. There’s an irony there, somewhere, I think. Besides…why would we go and ruin our friendship just for…a couple of boners?”
“Mine’s never made the best decisions for me, I’m happy to admit.” Tony blushed slightly at the memory of where his cock had got him before.
“And you’re an old romantic, aren’t you?” Nick asked.
“What makes you say that?”
“You said you’re always falling in love with men. At the drop of a pair of trousers, you said. Despite them being wildly inappropriate, you always think they’re The One.”
Tony nodded, remembering the last guy he’d been dating, who’d turned out to be married and had rather too easily offered to leave his husband for Tony, until Tony had put him straight and told him to stay with the husband and called an end to their dates. Suddenly, the reality of a relationship had seemed less appealing than the fantasy of it, which was why he didn’t trust what his heart was telling him now—that Nick was The One too.
It was ridiculous. Tony wasn’t looking for commitment, didn’t want it, actually. He wanted a good friend. So why did he also have to find the good friend attractive too? Boner-in-the-kitchen-late-at-night-dancing-to-old-songs attractive?
“I do,” Tony said. And I’m always wrong, he thought but didn’t say. Which meant he would inevitably be wrong now, thinking Nick was The One. All he was really feeling was attracted to Nick both physically and as a friend.
“What you doing tonight?” Nick asked after a pause when they’d both returned to their work.
Nothing. Having a bath and fantasising about your beard tickling my nether regions while you give me the best blow job of my life…Tony had done that a few nights ago, thinking it was preferable to another back-street blowie, and actually, as he’d come in a long spurt up his chest and almost got his eye, so turned on at the thought of Nick doing that to him, he’d realised another quick fumble could never beat the fantasy, so why bother?
“Washing my hair,” Tony said, flicking his long fringe out of his eyes before it fell back almost immediately. “And sorting through my record collection. I’ve got loads of duplicates, so I might eBay them. A while ago, every time I went into a second-hand record shop, I couldn’t resist. I’ve got four ‘Love Action’ singles, half a dozen ‘Don’t You Want Me’ because the cover is such fun as a twelve-inch. Three ‘Mirror Man’ and at least six ‘One Man In My Heart’ because it really speaks to me. Lyrically.”
Nick frowned. “On actual CDs?”
“Vinyl. Records. Sounds better.”
“I feel like I should know this, but, whose singles are they?”
“Sorry. I assume everyone knows. The Human League.” He lifted a necklace and brushed the frills on his shirt. “Hence.”
Nick nodded, smiled.
“Anyway, I could do with a bit of money.”
“Busy night. Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’m going to catch up on reading these new case files I’ve been assigned.” Turning back to his
computer, Nick fell silent.
“You know you can’t take them home with you, the case files, don’t you?” Tony said.
“Yeah. I was checking if you were going to tell me off. So well done. Thanks.” Nick had a sarcastic look in his eye as he returned to his files.
***
Washing his hair? Cataloguing his records? How come Tony was suddenly being so distant? Nick contemplated this as he made his way home that evening. For the first time in a long while, he’d made a friend he wanted to spend time doing things with and doing nothing with, and now, for some reason, Tony was pushing him away.
Why?
Did Tony feel the same desire to see how well they’d get on together in bed as well as in life? Or was he, similarly to Nick, worried about ruining their friendship for the sake of a misplaced erection?
Although Nick knew he could remain friends with someone he’d slept with, he didn’t know why he would, nor had he done it in a long time. He feared once he’d completed the conquest, he’d lose interest in Tony, and that would be the end of what was developing into an important friendship.
Mind you, he thought, as he stood under a cool shower later that evening, it would be fun to have sex with Tony. If he was as good in bed as he was a kisser, anyway…
A few days later, over lunch, Tony said, “Will I meet your mum, do you think? Cos mine’s dying to meet you. She thinks we’re dating. I told her, of course, we weren’t, but she’s still keen to see you.”
Narrowing his eyes, Nick said, “I don’t usually let my mother meet my friends. I prefer to keep her at arm’s length.” He stopped himself, his gaze straying to Tony’s bare forearms; his shirt sleeves had been rolled back. “It’s better that way.”
“Why?”
“She hardly meets my boyfriends, so I don’t think she needs to meet my friends.” Nick shrugged, signalling an end to the discussion. After saying it, he realised it probably sounded pretty harsh. Harsh but true.
***
“Are you going to the conference in London in a few weeks’ time?” Tony asked, keen to move the conversation forward. He always attended the annual conference for social workers, held in London. Officially, it was an opportunity to network, hear about the latest policy changes from government and find out from other social services across the country how to do things better. Unofficially, it was an opportunity to stay up late, eat out, drink in London and get away from the day job for a couple of days.
Nick shook his head. “Haven’t been asked. It sounds like something for more experienced social workers like you.”
“It’s for everyone. We normally get two tickets to be allocated across the department. Well, I get one because…well I’m not sure why, but it’s always me who goes. Most of the others don’t want two nights away from home. I can’t wait for it. And then there’s a bun fight for who gets the second ticket. Fancy it?”
“Why not?” Nick replied, his eyes twinkling.
*
Tony convinced his boss that it was a good idea for Nick, the newest member of staff, to attend the conference with him. He used all his persuasive wiles including how it would support his continuing professional development and how there would be good opportunities for Nick to shadow him during the three days. In the absence of any other colleagues wanting to join Tony, Nick was soon given the ticket.
Chapter 2
Arriving at the conference hotel in central London a few weeks later, they left their suitcases at reception as they were only just in time to attend the opening session where the Minister for Health and Social Care was talking about the future of social care services in England.
“We’ve got to show willing,” Tony murmured on the move, “and take some notes to report back at the ranch. Otherwise they’ll think it’s just been one big jolly.”
“I thought you said it would be a laugh,” Nick said.
“Oh—” he tapped the side of his nose “—it will be, but we won’t let them know it. Watch and learn, watch and learn.”
They sat at the back of the lecture theatre, Tony nodding companionably to other colleagues from around the country he recognised from previous conferences, and he began taking a few brief notes on the speech.
Twenty long minutes and three bullet points in his notepad later, Tony shut it and put away his pen. “Done. Let’s get some breakfast.”
“But what about the first sessions? We’re meant to be dividing them between the two of us,” Nick protested in obvious anguish.
“That’s what these are for.” Tony picked up some printed case study leaflets from outside the session rooms before leading the way back to the foyer and out of the hotel.
“Don’t we need to actually, like, go to the sessions?”
“Not unless you want to listen to them talking about this for an hour when we can read it all for ourselves perfectly OK.” Leading Nick to a café a few steps along the street, Tony added, “This is the sixth year I’ve done this, and it’s always the same. No one back at the office will have time to read much of what we write about this lot, so we only need to cover it briefly to show willing. And that’s fine.” Now in the café, he searched the menu and ordered food for himself.
Nick followed suit, and they sat in silence for a few moments, Nick staring out of the window at the conference centre, obviously in thought.
“Trust me,” Tony said. “I know you’re worrying, but honestly, if you’re going to worry about anything in this job, don’t worry about this stuff. Worry about the decision to give a dad on drug rehab access to his child. Worry about the family with a child who has bruises over her arms but they say it’s from her falling. Not all this.” He gestured widely back to the sixties concrete conference centre in the distance.
Soon after, their food arrived, and while they ate, they discussed the best and worst times Tony had attended the conference.
“Are we going out tonight? In London? Soho?” Nick asked once they’d finished their meals.
“Usually I’m here alone, which is good, and bad. Means I can do what I want, but also I don’t have anyone to share it with.” As he said it, Tony realised that was one of the core things about being in a relationship he missed. Not so much the sex—although it was nice, he could find that easily elsewhere—but the ‘more than friendship’, the having someone there to share experiences with. There was, he felt, not much point having a great laugh at a nightclub if he had no one with him to witness it. Part of having the fun was sharing it with others.
“Well,” Nick said, briefly touching Tony’s hand as it rested on the table, “I can’t imagine doing all this alone, and I’m glad I’m here too.”
Returning to the hotel, having decided which sessions they’d attend, or rather grab leaflets for, and finding out where the refreshment stations were so they would be early in the queue for lunch, they took their seats at the back of the main stage in readiness for the next plenary, which promised to tell them about the future of social care.
Rolling his eyes, Tony said, “Doing the impossible with fuck all, that’s what the future is.”
Soon enough, it was the end of the first day, and Nick, looking exhausted, asked if he could check into his hotel room and have a doze.
“Sure,” Tony agreed. “I need to call the office—got a missed call from Barbara, so I’ll sort that, do a bit of work theatre and then we can go out for dinner.”
“Work theatre?” Nick asked.
“Lots of emails late in the day, confirming I’m on it and it’s under control.”
Nick nodded in understanding and left Tony perched in a gallery in the hotel’s lobby. He made a few work calls and cleared his emails. When he next checked his watch, it was time for dinner.
And drinks.
But pre-dinner drinks first.
Very important, that.
Tony met Nick in the hotel reception, taking in what he was wearing. “You got changed?” Into a fitted red T-shirt and jeans that showed off Nick’s lithe physique to great e
ffect.
“Thought I’d dress up, since we’re out on the town.” Nick did razzmatazz hands, and Tony had to physically restrain himself from kissing him into the middle of next week.
Not only was Nick attractive, but he was fun and witty, plus he didn’t take himself too seriously. In short: adorable.
Looking down at his crumpled suit and shirt from the day, Tony said, “I suppose I should get changed, but it’s eating into cocktail-and-food time, and I’m not prepared to do that. So I vote for us going out now. Soho can take us as they find us.” Tony held out his arm, encouraging Nick to loop his through it. “Ready?”
Two cocktails later, they were sitting in a dark bar with no sign of having dinner anytime soon. Tony waved for another round of drinks, and Nick shook his head, covering his glass.
“They won’t fill your glass anyway. They’ll give us new ones,” Tony said.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Whatever happens tonight, it will still come. It has a habit of doing so, I’ve found.” Frowning, he patted Nick on the shoulder. “Come on, how often are we both out in Soho? We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re getting drunk.”
“I never thought a mentor would be like this. To be honest, most of what I do at work isn’t quite what I’d expected.”
Standing, Nick wobbled, the effects of the three strong cocktails now apparent. “I’m going to the gents’. Are we eating?”
“Sure, why not?” Tony replied, pointing Nick in the right direction.
***
Having splashed his face with cold water and paused to reflect, Nick finally allowed himself to relax and go with it. The sense of it being illicit had passed, and the fact that they had to get up tomorrow to attend a conference felt like a distant concept not to be worried about now. It left him with the distinct feeling that now, this moment he was experiencing, was good.
It was all good.