by J P Sayle
Large, warm hands touched his shoulder, making him jump. Looking over his shoulder at Brody, masking his face, Nick pretended not to notice a look of concern marring his features.
“You all right, Squirt? You’ve gone a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
He shook Brody off, stepping up to the till, desperate not to let his head go to that place he kept on lockdown.
A voice he’d never heard before spoke with authority. “You can’t stop it. You love him with your heart and soul. Remember, this is meant.”
Nick gawped at the checkout lady, unsure if she’d spoken until Brody nudged him aside and paid. Nick tried to act normal when all he wanted to do was run screaming from the shop.
He wanted to rationalise the voice in his head as his own, but he knew better. Then a sudden thought hit him.
Max.
It has to be Max.
He let out a sigh, his legs turning to jelly with relief. He took a deep breath, waiting for his heart rate to settle and for Brody to finish at the till. He willed himself to behave normally when Brody kept casting him worried glances every few seconds.
His nerves were frayed by the time they made it out the door. Nick sucked in a lungful of freezing air and weaved through the full car park to his van. The overcast sky felt oppressive as he hurried away from Brody and any questions he might ask about his freak-out.
“Nick. Nick, hey.”
The familiar voice had him turn. A smile formed at seeing Greg’s best friend, Gemma, jogging towards him. A dark coat flapped about her body, revealing her ample curves encased in a mauve cable-knit jumper and skinny-fit jeans. Her blonde hair swung freely around her grinning, rosy face.
The man lagging behind her caught his attention. His glower was a complete contradiction to Gemma’s warmth. Nick presumed it was Gemma’s boyfriend. His gaze roamed over what he supposed was an attractive guy if you liked uptight yuppies. His preppy clothes were pressed within an inch of their life, making him appear stiff and like there was a rod stuck up his arse.
Nick hid a chuckle behind a cough when he offered his best friendly smile and got a confused frown in return. He wondered if a face could actually crack after being in a permanent state of scornful disinterest.
His attention moved to the man stopped at the guy’s left side. Warmth exuded from every pore. The smile he offered glowed from his grey-green eyes and hit Nick right in the middle of his chest, leaving him breathless and stunned.
Nick’s eyes locked with Brody’s before he dragged them away. Brody’s casual stance and clothing hid none of the raw power emanating from his powerful body. Nick squirmed.
He was uncertain of what to do, when they all stood like statues saying nothing. The unease increased when Gemma didn’t make any introductions.
Nick sucked his lips between his teeth, trying to recall Gemma ever mentioning her boyfriend’s name. Stumped, Nick chewed his fingernail, not sure what he should do. He thought Greg had mentioned something, but all he could remember was him saying what a cold fish the guy was. Watching him now, Nick thought he looked more like he had a dead fish stuck under his nose, the way it kept curling up in distaste.
A sigh escaped past Nick’s lips when he caught uncertainty flash into Gemma’s hazel eyes. Nick moved his body a fraction, blocking out the boyfriend, concentrating on Gemma and ignoring the air of disinterest coming off the stuck-up arse. Though it did give him pause to wonder how someone as gregarious as Gemma could be with such a dick.
He was pulled from his observation when Gemma took charge and pulled him in for a hard squeeze. Her eyes, overbright, had him going with it.
He released her, asking the obvious, “What are you doing DIY shopping on a Sunday?” The question received an eye roll from Gemma’s guy when she answered enthusiastically, bouncing on the spot.
“I’m looking for a new kitchen. You’ve given me kitchen envy. Every time I visit Greg, I find myself drooling. You wouldn’t be interested in… maybe… err… perhaps making me a bespoke kitchen when you’ve finished Greg and Aaden’s?”
Her hurry to get the words out caused a grin to light Nick’s face. He opened his mouth, then closed it when Gemma rushed on.
“Ever since Christmas, I’ve been building up the courage to ask. Please. Pretty please say yes. I promise I’ll be the perfect boss and let you do whatever you like to me.”
Nick grinned like a Cheshire cat at the bawdy laugh that escaped after she realised what she’d said.
“You wait till I tell Greg you’re offering to let me do anything to you.”
“Not me… my kitchen, you fool.” She giggled.
A loud cough coming from Brody had a deep blush spread up her cheeks as she glanced at him, offering an apologetic smile.
Nick cast a quick look at Gemma’s still silent boyfriend to gauge his reaction. The anger, he supposed, was expected, but the look of interest when his eyes travelled down his body, made his pulse leap unpleasantly.
“Can I think about it? I would need to come and look at the setup and determine what is needed. And I’d have to price up the work. I specialise in bespoke, and I’m warning you, it doesn’t come cheap…”
A snotty voice interrupted him.
“Gemma, we’ll need to see the price first before we make any decisions. I’d also need to see his workmanship. I mean, there are local specialists out there that come highly recommended.”
The emphasis on the “we” or the slur that he might not be as good as others were not lost on Nick. His initial reluctance to do the kitchen died at the condescending, snotty tone. He wanted to wipe that look right off his snooty face.
Nick went to speak up, only Brody beat him to the punch.
Anger swirled around them as Brody stepped into the guy’s space, towering over him by a good six inches, and barked, “I beg to fucking differ. There are no other carpenters who can match Nick’s skill with wood. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are. And dissing my boyfriend’s carpentry skills is no way to find out just how fucking fantastic he is. You should count yourself lucky that he even offered to look at your poxy kitchen, never mind do any work on it.”
Nick moved forward and put his hand on Brody’s forearm, restraining him. As he felt the tension under his hand, he soothed Brody with a gentle stroke while he gave him a “please shut up” look. Nick pointedly glanced at Gemma and her crumpled face with eyes full of unushered tears.
Her crestfallen expression was enough to make Nick feel like crap.
“Brody. It’s fine. Please.” Nick regretted his sharp tone, especially after the praise Brody heaped on him and not forgetting the “boyfriend” comment. But the last thing he needed or wanted was a pissing match in the car park.
He released a breath when Brody clamped his mouth shut, but not before he threw a last warning glare at the man now struggling not to cower next to Gemma.
“Gemma, I’ll call you tomorrow and work out a day to pop up. Okay?”
Her tremulous, watery smile at least made Nick feel a little better when they waved them off and walked to the van.
When they got in, Nick turned to Brody after fastening his seat belt. “Well, that went well.” His sarcastic tone completely lost its mark when all Brody did was shrug his broad shoulders.
“What. He asked for it. How fucking dare he imply your work is under par.”
Nick struggled not to revel in Brody’s indignant anger on his behalf. Failing miserably, he gave in to the smile he’d been holding back after seeing how upset Gemma was.
“I don’t know what she sees in that prick.”
Brody nodded, “You said it. A grade-A prick. I don’t know Gemma well, but she seems like a great girl. So how the fuck she tied herself to that knobchob is anyone’s guess.”
“Did you notice she didn’t introduce him? Don’t you think that’s a bit odd, Brody?” Nick dwelled on the reasons why someone didn’t make introductions to their friends. Not coming up with anything plausibl
e, he dropped it, focusing on driving home.
Halfway to Aaden’s, Nick’s stomach let out a loud growl. He gave Brody a sheepish grin when it drowned out the local radio station, Energy FM.
“It seems my stomach is hungry.” Nick glanced at the dash and saw it was mid-afternoon when Brody snorted out a laugh at him stating the obvious.
Nick’s hands clenched the steering wheel at Brody’s casual offer to take him for a late lunch. He kept his excitement under wraps, just. He considered where the nearest decent place to eat was. He grinned when they came round Greeba Castle, remembering Joe’s glowing review of the Hawthorne, which by his estimation, was a minute away.
Nick explained the plan. His smile grew when Brody agreed.
Nick parked in the nearly full car park of the restaurant. “Ah shit, it looks full. Joe said they do great food here, and the car park affirms that, it would seem. I hope they have a spare table.” Nick whined, jumping out of the van.
“We can give it a try.” Brody offered as he strolled around the van, taking hold of Nick’s hand.
Nick swallowed. Boyfriends. The word wrapped itself around his heart much like the warm hand firmly holding his. His heart beat crazily against his ribs, unsure if it was ready for hand-holding in public. Then Nick looked up at Brody’s expectant face, and any thought of refusing died a quick and painless death.
What could it hurt?
Nick walked through the tiny porch into the noisy, packed restaurant. The scent of roast meat tantalised along with the warm atmosphere, which matched, he was pleased to note, the friendly faces of the wait staff.
Brody nudged him towards the bar sitting in the middle of the building. Nick let his gaze move around the room. The long, packed room was split into two halves. One side with its solid old wood furniture and small windows gave a cosy feel. Whereas the other side of the room was a brightly lit space with large windows and modern furniture, padded chairs, and MDF tables.
Undecided which side he liked to sit in, Nick noted there would be very little chance of choosing. All the tables he could see appeared to be occupied. Nick was distracted from worrying about getting a table when a distinguished grey-haired gent, dressed all in black, stepped from behind the bar, offering a friendly smile.
Nick didn’t miss his pale blue eyes lower to their joined hands or how his smile never dimmed when he looked back up. Nick felt his shoulders relax. The tension he didn’t realise he was holding let go at the easy acceptance. He knew from first-hand experience not everyone was happy to see gay couples touching, even if it was only holding hands.
He smiled up at Brody when he squeezed his hand in reassurance, asking the barman, “We wondered if you had a table for two.”
Nick giggled when the guy’s cheeks pinked under his bright smile.
Hot breath ghosted his face as Brody bent, whispering, “Stop smiling at the guy like that. Or I might forget that you’re hungry, or worse that I’m a civilised human being instead of the monster who wants to rip your clothes off and show everyone that you’re mine.”
Upon hearing the possessiveness in Brody’s voice, a ripple of excitement fluttered in Nick’s stomach. A nervous giggle bubbled in his chest, escaping before Nick could stop it.
He nudged Brody. “Stop that,” he hissed.
Stepping away from the gleaming intention in Brody’s eyes, Nick followed the waiter to the brightly lit end of the restaurant. The small empty table tucked into the far corner next to the window gave them a view of the road.
Nick shrugged before realising what road it was. Turning excitedly, he asked, “Is this a good place to watch the TT races? My friend Joe is mad for bikes. And I might still be here in May/June, and I’d be interested in finding places to watch.”
Nick sat, listening intently to Frank, the owner, as it turned out. He chatted about the island and explained about the views from their roof terrace above, saying it was the perfect place if Nick wanted to watch the bikes and enjoy a few beers.
Frank chuckled when he went to step away, still clutching the menus. “I’d forget my head some days if it wasn’t screwed on.” He placed the forgotten menus down and then listed the specials of the day. “I’ll be right back to take your drink orders and give you some time to consider what you want to eat.”
Nick watched Frank weave through the busy tables, stopping to chat briefly or give a smile. Nick could see why Joe raved about this place, and he hadn’t even eaten yet. The atmosphere was relaxing, even if it was a tad noisy.
Nick saw several couples engaged in conversation before he looked over at Brody, who was sitting back in his chair reading the menu in his hands.
A bubble of excitement skipped exuberantly through his bloodstream.
I’m on a date with Brody.
How the hell did that happen? Two days ago I was miserable and looking to get laid by some stranger.
“What’s making you frown like that, Squirt? I thought you’d enjoy this, but if you aren’t, we can leave.” The genuine proposal and concern he could hear in Brody’s voice made Nick speak without thinking.
“I’m struggling to get my head around the sudden change between us. I’m not sure if I’m Arthur, Martha, or Mary right at this minute.” Nick shrugged.
“I hope you’re none of those, because Squirt is who I’m interested in.”
Nick felt his lips twitch at Brody’s waggling brows.
Leaning forward across the table, Nick took Brody’s large hand in his. “Okay, I get it. You fancy me…” At a loss for a moment, his belly trembled with want and need. He gripped Brody’s warm hand, wanting more than anything for this to be real and not some cosmic joke. He lowered his voice. “Is it like buying a second-hand car, where you’re all into it until you figure out that really it’s just the same as the previous car, which wasn’t all that great to start with?”
Nick blushed and stopped rambling when Brody’s head shot back. Several heads turned their way at his bellowing laughter.
“Shush, for God’s sake.” His cheeks glowed pink when Frank coughed as he stopped at the table with a white pad in his hands.
Undecided, Nick considered tugging his hand from Brody’s. As if Brody read his mind, his fingers firmed around Nick’s, his grey-green eyes gave a silent warning.
Not wanting to cause a fight, he acquiesced.
They ordered their drinks, and only after Frank had stepped away did Brody release his hand so he could pick up the menu. Dropping his gaze, he focused on reading the choices, hoping his face didn’t betray how desperate he was for Brody to allay the fears poking around all the dark places in his head.
“I love you, Squirt.” Brody said.
He jerked, dropping the menu, and his startled eyes moved to Brody. His heart fluttered against his ribcage at the dazed expression on Brody’s face. Had Brody really said “I love you,” or was his mind playing tricks on him?
“What did you say?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He held his breath, waiting.
Nick tucked his shaking hands in his lap when Brody hesitated with a strange panicked look in his eyes Nick had never seen before.
“You heard correctly, Squirt. I. Love. You.”
Nick was frightened his baggy jeans were going to burst at the fly when Brody punctured each word with a hungry growl. His breath whistled through his lips. Picking up his napkin, he dropped it casually into his lap. He licked his lips, unsure how to respond when his first reaction was to get up, strip, and offer up his arse. He was sure that was not the appropriate one.
He sagged in relief when a young teenage waitress dressed in a black fitted shirt and trousers came and dropped off their drinks. He thanked her and grabbed the glass as if he’d spent a week in a desert with nothing to drink. Taking a deep swallow, he prayed it would help get his brain back in working order.
Inhaling, Nick tried to shake off the feeling of being unbalanced. It was as if he’d somehow got up in the dark and put on two different shoes: one with a heel and one wi
thout. His brain knew if he walked anywhere, he’d fall flat on his backside. Pretty much how he felt about spilling his guts to Brody because the minute Brody found out the truth about how fucked up Nick was, he’d surely drop his arse.
Shittingbuggeringhell!
Brody
I told him. Fuck. I just came right out and told him!
What happened to taking it slow, you stupid prick? Blurting it out like that. What the fuck came over you? Your big arse plan that gave you blue balls last night just flew right out the window.
Brody exhaled when the waitress appeared quietly, blushing furiously when he offered an absent smile, willing her to leave the drinks.
Disbelief was written on Nick’s face before he grabbed the drink of Pepsi in front of him. Brody acknowledged the anxiety attacking his usual calm demeanour in the face of difficult situations. This was not the time to lose his cool, not when all he could think was that Nick hadn’t said the words back to him.
What does it mean?
Brody would have laughed at himself if he wasn’t gripped by panic. His throat closed off for a moment while he struggled to get his head in order. He lifted his sweaty palm and rubbed at his windpipe, hoping it would ease the discomfort. He felt his hair stick to his damp forehead. The warmth in the restaurant, which had been pleasant when they’d sat down, now felt unbearable.
He sat forward and pulled off the soft blue crew-neck jumper to reveal his tight-fitting white polo shirt beneath. His trembling hands hung the jumper onto the back of his chair. He glanced quickly under his lashes to see if Nick saw how out of sorts he was. Brody’s brow quirked up, unsure if Nick noticed anything. He looked like he’d been poleaxed.
Why the hell did you open your big stupid mouth and blurt that out?
Brody gave himself a mental slap when he kept on asking the same dumb question. He knew damn well why he’d said it. The vulnerability Nick expressed when he prattled on about some shit about cars, when really he was talking about Brody’s feelings. Feelings. He sighed.
The two weeks apart gave him plenty of time to think about his past.