Chapter 18 Shaun
Shaun
It’s just gone seven in the morning when I park up in front of Freddie’s house. I hate being late. I would have been early if Jester hadn’t decided to puke in my left shoe at some point in the night, and I would have been on time if I hadn’t accidentally stepped in it.
My heart’s pounding. Hanging out with Freddie today is all I’ve been thinking about.
For the past twelve days, not that I've been counting, we’ve mostly been like ships passing in the night at work, our shifts overlapping for a couple of hours here and there, and it’s been too busy to chat properly.
On the one full day we worked together, he told me about his disgustingly recent high school years, proudly referring to himself as the class rascal who turned up for music and not much else. He has countless funny stories, each one pulling me more and more under his spell.
All I really talked to him about was coffee.
While I've done my absolute best to quell the urge to flirt with him, there have been…
moments. Moments he's caught me looking at him and vice-versa.
Every time, I'm dazzled by that irresistible smile.
Have I smiled back? Yes. Have I felt guilty for doing so?
Also, yes. It's just so hard to suppress the joy I feel from merely being in his company.
When he left at lunchtime yesterday, he lingered behind the counter for a quiet moment to tell me how much he was looking forward to today.
I’d been topping off a hot chocolate with whipped cream and was so thrilled to hear it that I missed the rim of the mug and shot a jet of it onto the floor.
Freddie, cheeky as ever, smirked and said, “Guess you’re excited too. ”
The innuendo was lost on me until after he’d gone, which makes the fact I responded with, “Absolutely!” all the more mortifying.
There’s a guy I don’t know in Freddie’s driveway, scraping ice off the windscreen of his Audi.
This must be Freddie’s big brother, though the family resemblance isn’t strong.
He’s missing Freddie’s sharp features and long blonde hair in favour of a buzz cut and a face not dissimilar to a bulldog.
Despite the temperature, all he's wearing is a tight gym kit, showing off a hulking physique.
I step out of the car and shut the door, the noise catching his attention.
“Hi,” I call out and wave. He doesn’t return my smile. Maybe he’s not a morning person either? I take a couple of cautious steps up the driveway. “I’m Shaun. Is Freddie around?”
“Rory.” He stares me down, a muscle quivering in his anvil jaw. “You’re the café guy?”
Owner, proprietor, barista extraordinaire…
“Yeah, that’s me,” I sigh, scuffing my feet on the gravel.
“Right,” Rory grunts, making no effort to hide his judgment. “I’m Freddie’s big brother. He said you’re taking him to Glasgow?”
“That’s right.”
“How come?”
“Research trip. For work.”
Rory’s eyes narrow, scanning me like a robot which I’m not entirely convinced he isn’t. “And are you paying him for his time?”
The question blindsides me for a second. I wasn’t expecting the third degree.
“We’re off the clock. It’s entirely voluntary,” I explain. Rory glares at me like a police interrogator. I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock awkwardly on the balls of my feet. “Is Freddie here?”
Rory sighs. “Knowing my brother, he’ll have slept in. Go bang on his door, if you want.”
“His…?” I follow the jerk of Rory’s thumb towards the front door. “Inside?”
“Aye.” Rory turns away, pulling out his car keys. “I’m not his errand boy.”
“No, that’s not what I—” I hold my hands up in an attempt to placate this angry, angry man. “I just mean… it’s your house and you don’t know me.”
Rory shrugs. “Are you going to steal anything?”
“No.”
“Then it’s fine. And even if you did, I know where you work.”
I laugh. Then I realise Rory isn’t joking.
“Oh. Right. Got it.”
He climbs into his car, reverses out of the driveway and speeds off up the road, leaving me feeling like I’ve weathered a small hurricane. What a strange guy. He’s the polar opposite of Freddie. Hard to believe they share DNA.
I edge my way up to the front door. Despite Rory’s permission, I feel the need to knock loudly before trying the handle.
The door drifts open, beckoning me inside.
I look over each shoulder to check there’s no one around who could mistake me for a burglar—no nosy neighbour or passing postman.
The street is quiet, nothing but closed curtains and empty pavements.
Funnily enough, that doesn’t put me at ease.
Feeling anything but comfortable, I step inside Freddie’s home.
Wow. The house is immaculate. The open-plan kitchen-living area is smartly decorated and full of some impressive tech.
A massive TV is mounted on the wall, so big I’m not sure my own little flat would have a wall wide enough to hold it.
I spy a brand-new games console housed in the unit underneath it as well as an expensive-looking record player.
The kitchen is just as fancy with state-of-the-art appliances integrated right into the counters.
To my horror, the only coffee machine in sight is one that uses pods.
Oh dear. No wonder Freddie doesn’t like coffee if this is what he’s used to.
Still, I can’t have a barista who doesn’t appreciate what he’s selling.
Hopefully that won’t be a problem after today, if all goes to plan.
A cold gust swoops in behind me and I shut the front door.
All is quiet.
“Hello?” I call into the house.
No answer.
To my right is a corridor with four doors leading off from it. I tiptoe along the hall, passing a pristine master bedroom to the right and a large bathroom on my left. Of the two remaining doors, one looks to be an airing cupboard. That only leaves one.
“Freddie?”
I stand in front of the door and raise my fist to knock when suddenly, it flies open.
Holy shit.
Standing in the doorway, in nothing but a pair of tight blue briefs, is Freddie. For a split second, he stares at me, eyes wide with shock. Then his face cracks into a shamelessly wicked smile.
"Hello there!"
I force my eyes up to the ceiling and away from Freddie’s bulging crotch.
“Wow, um, hi Freddie! Sorry, I can come back!”
There’s no point trying to stop myself going red; I can already tell my face has turned the colour of a sun-dried tomato.
“Well, this is a surprise!” Freddie chuckles. “I thought we said eight?”
“Seven, I think. Don’t worry, I can come back later. Or we can rearrange?”
Look at the ceiling, look at the ceiling, look at the bloody—
“Rearrange?” Freddie’s voice is like golden syrup. “I hope not. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
I meet his gaze and my heart skips. His thick blonde locks tumble to his shoulders in golden cascades. I can’t help but glance down. His body is perfect. Silhouetted by morning light, there’s something ethereal about him—too pretty to be human, surely.
“You’re, uh, not wearing very much, Freddie,” I point out.
“I guess not,” he admits, though he makes no move to rectify this. “Shaun, did you… break in?”
“No!” I shake my head rapidly. “Your brother. He—”
Freddie's jaw drops. “Rory let you in?”
“Yeah.”
He lets out a long whistle, the muscles of his abs contracting like a brick wall. “Impressive. He must like you.”
I shrug, wrenching my gaze from Freddie’s midriff, but it’s too late. A rush of blood to my groin and my jeans start to grow tighter. Oh shit, not now. I adjust my posture, but there’s no hiding this.
Please don’t let him look down!
“He barely spoke to me, actually,” I say, far too loudly. “If anything, it seemed like he hated me.”
Freddie puts one hand behind his head and laughs. “That’s just Rory. If he’s not yelling, it means he’s in a good mood. Hard to believe we’re related, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, my posture now resembling that of a pensioner with severe arthritis. I can feel my crotch tenting. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to, erm, get dressed.”
Freddie glances down at his body. “Aww, don’t like what you see?”
“W-what?” I stammer. I must look terrified because Freddie immediately waves his hands to diffuse the tension, not that it works, of course.
“Kidding! You’re right, I really need to stop getting naked around you.”
A nervous laugh bursts out of me. “Sure, um, I’ll just wait back there.”
My feet are already carrying me, my bright red face, and my massive traitorous erection back down the hall to the living room. Shit. Is there any chance he didn’t see it? My gut says chance would be a fine fucking thing. For god’s sake! Why does he have to be so… so…
Fetching,
I throw myself down on the sofa and try to settle my hormones—clearly all my indulgences the other night didn’t quite cut the mustard.
“Help yourself to coffee!” Freddie shouts down the hall.
“Thanks,” I reply with a grimace.
No danger, pod boy. Besides, I don’t dare stand up. Not until my out-of-control dick decides to behave itself.
Thankfully, when Freddie emerges from his room, fully clothed, a few minutes later, things have returned to normal.
“Hey there!” Hair tied-up, Freddie swans into the living room wearing a black hoodie and ripped grey jeans. “So, seven o’clock? Are you sure about that?”
“Positive,” I say, getting to my feet.
“Really?” Freddie steps closer. “See, I'm sure it was eight. Maybe you came early just to catch me in my underwear?”
What do I say to that? It’s ludicrous, but it’s not like I can reprimand him; we are in his house.
“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?” I say, in an attempt to laugh it off.
Freddie bites his lower lip. “Forget what, exactly?”
I appreciate the insinuation, like I’m going to forget Freddie in his underwear any time soon. From the look on his face, I’m sure he’s thinking exactly the same thing.