Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
WILL
Day Twelve
In the dark coffee shop, Ollie and Alec walk ahead of me, their arms linked. Alec sways on his feet, giggling at something Sam said before they left.
‘I like you two,’ Alec says to me as we get to the door. ‘Together, I mean.’
Sam wraps an arm around me.
‘I’m happiest when I’m with Sam.’ My eyes find Ollie’s. He smiles, and despite everything, I almost see it as permission: permission for me to be happy. To move on. Even though I don’t need it. It still feels good.
But it’s hard to feel Alec’s affection for me, when he doesn’t know the truth.
‘Well, thanks for tonight,’ I say, because it’s better than blurting out what Ollie was to me.
‘Thanks for having us,’ Alec says. ‘Cat-sitting, you said?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. King Charles the Cat.’
‘Who would name a cat that?’ Ollie asks.
‘I know. Stupid, isn’t it?’
But it isn’t stupid, because it’s funny, and Ollie has never been as funny as me.
‘I didn’t see a cat,’ Alec says.
‘He’s a shy cat,’ I say.
‘And he’s Greek,’ Sam adds.
We all look at him.
‘Well, we’ll be going, then,’ Alec says. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much when we have seating arrangements to plan tomorrow. Will, thanks again for everything.’
Bloody seating arrangements. ‘Anytime.’
Ollie rubs Alec’s shoulder. ‘We’ll be in touch with details.’
‘Oh, great.’
As they walk away, all loved-up, Sam’s tender touch makes me fall back into his arms. They wrap around me, and we sway together, staring out into the night and the quietness of the street. We hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but conversation between the four of us flowed nicely, mostly led by Alec.
‘I hate that he’s nice.’
‘You’re supposed to be supportive.’
‘I know.’
Sam kisses my cheek, before stepping away and heading upstairs.
I lock the coffee shop door, tracing my hand over the flecked paint on the door. Staying any longer is a bad idea, right? And yet, I want to find Sam. Be with Sam. I don’t want to ever leave.
I leave the coffee shop, climbing the stairs, emerging into Sam’s apartment, where he’s putting the last dish in the dishwasher.
He exhales when he sees me.
‘Thanks for tonight.’
‘No need to thank me,’ Sam says.
The candles still flicker on the empty dining table, the only source of light in the dark apartment, except for a dim yellow street lamp outside. It’s cosy here, cool from the air conditioning unit. Sam pours me another wine, which I gladly savour.
What does Sam gain from doing this for me? Getting involved in something that meant nothing to him just days ago. He supported me when I needed it. I guess that’s what real friends do, no matter how much time has passed.
‘Sam, did you mean it?’
‘Mean what?’
‘What you said the other day. About us being boyfriends?’
Sam pours himself a glass of wine. ‘It depends. How do you feel about him?’
‘You know how I feel.’
Sam gestures, wine dangerously close to spilling. ‘Things went well tonight. You sure you’re okay with him getting married to someone else?’
‘Let’s talk.’
We take our wines to the sofa, the candlelight casting our shadows on the brick walls. We’re inches away from one another, our knees almost touching.
‘I don’t want Ollie anymore, Sam. It’s shameful how long it has taken me to realise the truth. Ever since you and I spoke, all I can think about is you. You and what you might mean to me. What you could be.’
Sam leans forwards. ‘And what, exactly, could I be to you, Will?’
‘What do you want to be, Sam?’
I meet him halfway, resting my lips with delicate precision upon his own. He reaches for me, pulls me closer, kissing me harder. His touch, like static to me, has me uttering a small groan.
‘Better not spill our wine,’ he whispers, breath brushing against my lip.
We put the wine aside, and all I want to do is rip his clothes off, and as he touches me I know he must be thinking the same. But my hand finds his strong, supple chest, and I sigh.
‘I don’t know exactly what I feel for you, Sam, but I know it is different from what I feel for Ollie.’
‘How different?’
His lips part, hard to resist. I lean in for another kiss, a slow kiss, before answering. ‘I don’t want to do this with Ollie. Not ever again. I came here for one guy, and met someone else who changed everything.’
Sam squeezes my hand. ‘You’ve given me the most excitement I’ve had in years.’
My heart pangs. ‘But it’s not real.’
Sam’s grip slackens. ‘What?’
‘I’m temporary, Sam. I have to go back. To Cardiff, to my life. To fucking Clive.’
‘Will…’
‘I have to be realistic.’
‘No.’ Sam closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. When he looks at me again, his eyes are wide, pleading. ‘We can make it work. There will be a way.’
‘Our lives are in two different places.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’
I want to laugh, but my heart is breaking.
Sam leans back in the chair, and taps his lap.
‘That is not appropriate,’ I say, jovial.
‘Get your mind out of the gutter. Come lay your head here.’
I adjust where I sit, resting my head on his thigh. His hand runs through my hair, slow, steady. My eyes flutter with every touch of him.
‘I want you, Will. Any way that I can. I don’t know what that will look like for us, but I’m prepared to make it work. Are you?’
I shift, looking up at him. My hands reach and he leans forwards, and I rise to meet his lips once more. ‘I want nothing more.’
A silence stretches between us, Athens holding still.
‘Stay the night?’
‘I think that’s okay with me.’
He gives me another kiss. We lie there, him stroking my hair, me admiring every sculpted part of him.
‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ I finally say.
‘Go on.’
‘What made you say you were a porn star?’
Sam laughs, a little snort following. ‘And stripper. Don’t forget stripper. I wanted to see the look on his face.’
‘I loved it,’ I say. ‘Let me know where I can find some of your work.’
He laughs again. ‘I can show you, if you like.’