Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
WILL
Day Twelve
‘Don’t forget what we tell them when they get here,’ I say to Sam. ‘This isn’t your apartment. You know the owners.’
Sam pauses singing along to an early Noughties pop track.
‘Remind me again why we’re lying about this when you’re asking Ollie to come clean to Alec?’
‘Because a little white lie is nothing compared to the monster lie he’s told Alec about me being just a friend. And we can’t exactly tell him that we were fake-dating this whole time.’
‘Are we still fake-dating?’
My voice rises. ‘Sam, not now.’
The irony that I’m going to be double-dating my ex with my fake-boyfriend-turned-situationship, and that I’m still peddling the lie that we’ve been together for longer than twelve days, is not lost on me.
I’m expecting Ollie to have already told Alec, and if he hasn’t, I’m going to tell him myself.
If I can be brave enough. My rippling stomach of bundled apprehension tells me otherwise.
‘Know the owners, right,’ Sam says. ‘I still don’t get why the owners let us have the place.’
‘We’re cat-sitting King Charles the Cat.’
‘Okay. Even though he’s at Mum’s?’
‘I don’t concern myself with the particulars.’
‘God, I’m starving,’ Sam says, patting his stomach. ‘They better show up soon.’
A takeaway of Chinese food is on the way. I suspect Sam is thinking Ollie might cancel last minute. Or is he hoping that happens?
A doorbell tinkles, and I jump. ‘That’s your doorbell?’
It clangs like an old chapel bell. Sam dries his hands. ‘It has to be loud so I can hear it from up here.’
Peering down at the street from the top windows, I see Ollie’s wavy hair, his arm around Alec.
‘Cancel it,’ I splutter. ‘Why are we doing this?’
Sam gives me his best, most reassuring smile. ‘We can do this.’
I head down to the shop, glancing at the place where Sam drilled into me. Okay, this is going to be fine. We’re just double-dating. No agenda. I might not believe that, but the key is to make them believe that.
As the door opens, Alec holds out his hands, as if greeting an old friend. ‘The man who is saving our wedding. Thank you so, so much. You don’t know what you have done for us.’
Alec brings the scent of oud as he squeezes me. I meet Ollie’s gaze, eyebrows rising. Alec pulls away, wearing clothes that look like they have come from a trendy vintage shop, second-hand yet immaculately styled. ‘You must like Ollie to do this.’
‘He’s a good friend,’ Ollie adds.
My face freezes. As Alec brings Sam into a hug, much to my annoyance, I step closer to Ollie and whisper, ‘Did you tell him?’
Ollie’s lips purse, and he shakes his head.
‘Ol…’
‘I will. Not yet. But I will.’
‘Oh, this place is lovely,’ Alec interrupts us. ‘Beautiful place. I said to Ol, we would have to get coffee here.’
I look at my dinky donut and touch the small of his back.
Finally, Ollie decides that a friendly clap on the back is suitable for me. Then he nods at Sam before strolling through the apartment like it’s an art gallery.
‘Yeah, we’d be happy to have you at the coffee shop,’ Sam says, and with a look of alarm from me, he clears his throat. ‘As in, we’re cat-sitting, so we’ll be here if you stop by, so we’d be happy to meet you for a coffee. Or a tea. Smoothies, too.’
Ollie’s and Alec’s backs are turned to me, and with that I whisper with a stern look to Sam, ‘Stop reciting No Names’ menu.’
‘I can’t help it,’ he whispers back.
Ollie, now standing at the window, looks at me.
‘How did you end up here, then?’
‘Cat-sitting,’ I repeat. ‘We know the owner.’
‘You know someone who lives in Greece?’
My eyes flicker to Sam. ‘Uh, yeah.’
Ollie, in a paisley shirt, crosses his arms. ‘I see. Since when?’
‘About two years ago,’ I say, leaving enough room for plausibility. ‘Someone I work with.’
‘Plus, I’m Greek.’
We all look at Sam.
‘That’s handy,’ Ollie says. ‘Why did you stay in the nudist hotel, then?’
Oh God.
‘Well…’
The clang of bells rings out, and Alec lets out a yelp.
‘That’ll be the takeaway,’ Sam says, heading for the stairs. ‘Sit, sit. Dinner is served.’
Sam’s already laid the table, lighting candles, making this one of the most dysfunctional romantic nights I’ve ever experienced. He turned the music down a little, changing the playlist, but something about hearing Etta James sing ‘At Last’ at this moment is disconcerting.
We take our seats, me sitting opposite Ollie, a seat empty next to me for Sam.
‘I grew up in a house of nudity,’ Alec, the gift that keeps on giving, says.
‘Oh, right, cool,’ I say, Sam plating up my Chinese order and putting it in front of me first. ‘Do you like being nude, then?’
Am I really asking Alec about this?
‘I don’t mind it,’ Ollie jests.
Alec nudges him, giggling in a flirtatious way that makes me fear this Chinese food I’ve just swallowed will be on my plate again.
What a terrible idea this night was.
‘I think we should all be nude,’ Alec says.
‘I agree,’ Sam says, taking his seat opposite Alec, after ensuring we all had our meals and drinks. ‘Would you like us to be nude now?’
Everyone laughs, me extra loud.
‘I’d be very comfortable being nude, yeah,’ Alec carries on. ‘The Laurel Hotel has excellent reviews, from what I’ve heard. I tried to convince Ollie we should stay there once, but he wasn’t keen.’
‘Just to clarify, we’re not getting nude, are we?’ I ask.
Alec laughs. ‘No, keep your clothes on.’
‘What are your hobbies, then, Ollie?’ Sam asks.
Ollie thinks for a moment, like he has lots of them, and it’s too hard to choose only one.
‘Reading,’ he says, ever the cliché. ‘I’m writing a thesis right now on queer identity in A Christmas Carol.’
‘Oh, right,’ Sam says, but he keeps his tone even, distant, like he’s bored. I hide my smirk with a bite of food. ‘Is there any?’
‘Any what?’
‘Queer identity in A Christmas Carol,’ Sam says. ‘I’d love to hear about it.’
Ollie narrows his eyes ever so slightly, but I know his willingness to flex his views will far outweigh what he feels about Sam’s sarcastic tone.
‘Come on, do you even need to ask?’
‘I do,’ Sam says. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever spotted any queer undertones in that story.’
‘Probably because you’ve only watched the film.’ Ollie reaches for his wine, observing it in the candlelight, before taking a sip.
‘No, I’ve read the book,’ Sam answers. ‘I’ve read all of Dickens’s work.’
‘All of it?’ Ollie cocks an eyebrow. ‘You don’t strike me as someone who reads classics.’
The adding of classics comes a little too slowly.
‘So, go on, tell me. What undertones are there?’
Ollie swallows his food and leans back in his chair. ‘Marley and Scrooge, of course.’
Sam laughs, and I quickly glance at Ollie, seeing the reaction I expected. Shock.
‘What’s funny about that?’ Ollie asks.
‘There is no way Scrooge is gay.’
‘I’d beg to differ.’
‘Clearly, if you’re writing something on it,’ Sam replies. ‘Although, I’d be tempted to say that whatever you’re writing is a waste of time. There is no romance there between those two.’
Ollie shakes his head, looking at Alec like he can’t believe what has just come out of Sam’s mouth. Alec sips from his wine, looking intrigued by the discussion.
‘Have you read the book? Because if you have, it’s clear what Dickens is trying to say.’
‘Is it?’
Ollie gives the table an incredulous look. ‘The grief Scrooge feels around his death? The fact Marley comes back from the dead to see him? How happy he is when he sees his friend again? Those are all powerful reactions from someone who supposedly just worked with the guy.’
Sam scoffs, making me wish for the ground to swallow me up. Ollie never gets challenged like this. I’m excited to see what happens next.
‘Scrooge was a swine,’ Sam says. ‘He felt nothing. The whole point of the story is to make him feel something. He didn’t care about anything but money. He didn’t have time for love. Besides, there’s mention of a female love interest in his past.’
‘The time is the context, though,’ Ollie insists. ‘He couldn’t exactly be open like we are, could he? Marley was more than just his business partner.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s obvious.’
‘Is that all you’re using to support your argument?’ Sam asks. ‘Pretty short thesis.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
It was a low blow, even for Ollie, but Sam unscrews the wine. ‘More wine?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said.
‘What do you do for work, Sam?’ Alec asks.
My mouth opens, suddenly panicked.
Not the coffee shop. Please don’t say the coffee shop.
Sam blinks, as if slapped.
We look at one another.
‘Sam is a…’
‘Stripper,’ Sam says, slowly.
A prawn cracker falls from Ollie’s mouth.
‘And adult male model,’ he adds. ‘You know, porn.’
My eyes widen, looking at our guests.
‘Fantastic.’ Alec leans forward. ‘That’s why you were so open about nudity, then.’
‘Yep,’ Sam replies. ‘It’s what I do.’
‘I love that,’ Alec says. ‘Nudity in all its forms is beautiful. Would I have seen you in anything?’
Before Sam can answer, Ollie stands. ‘I need to pee.’
Nobody says anything, so I show Ollie to the bathroom.
‘A porn star boyfriend?’ Ollie whispers to me as we walk. ‘Really, Will?’
‘Really,’ I say. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s just to get a kick from his reaction, but I take it further. ‘It’s true what they say about porn stars. They’re hung, and they are the best sex you’ll ever have.’