Chapter 20 Shaun
Shaun
Oh man, I can’t believe that happened. Well, almost happened, which is almost as bad.
I nearly told him! Nearly laid my guts out on the table for him to see. I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head and there’s no way Freddie didn’t know exactly what I was about to say. I said everything but the words themselves, but he could read me. I can tell.
Fuck. This is bad.
He’s been silent since we got in the car. I can’t tell if he’s just listening to the radio or if I’ve upset him or what. Either way, I feel rotten.
Today was going so well. We had some of the most meaningful conversations I’ve had in years.
I opened up to him. We held hands. I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy holding hands with anyone—usually I’m counting the seconds until I can let go—but with him, it felt so natural.
Like I never wanted to let go. I can still feel the strong squeeze of those guitarist fingers interlocked with mine, grounding me.
A very large part of me wants to go back to that moment and linger there for hours, entwined in his grip. No matter the consequences.
So stupid!
I can’t believe I almost told him. I didn’t think I was that weak.
It hit me when that barista came over—the truth of what I was doing.
Freddie is a member of staff. My staff. Who I took out for breakfast, and flirted with, and held hands with, and regardless of whether it feels like it or not, I am in a position of power over him, and abusing that power isn’t just wrong, it could land me in a lot of trouble.
If I ever were to make him uncomfortable, so much so that he had to quit, that would be all my fault.
I told him to stop flirting with me, and then I ate my words and did it right back. I touched myself while thinking about him. Multiple times! Even though I like him, and I really do like him, it all feels dirty now. Like I’m using him to discover myself. Like I’m being so fucking selfish.
The silence is agony.
I wish he’d say something.
A few painfully quiet miles later, we peel off the dual carriageway, following the signs back to West Marbank.
It’s almost exactly midday, thirty minutes before Freddie’s due to start work.
At this rate, we’ll be early. My place is on the way.
Maybe I should invite him up for a cuppa to clear the air?
Or is that a terrible idea? I can’t tell anymore; my brain feels like a pound of fried mince.
Thank goodness I’m not rota’d in for today.
I’m not sure I could handle a shift right now.
Freddie’s humming along to the radio, quietly harmonising under his breath. He doesn’t seem annoyed at least.
“Freddie?” I ask, once the outskirts of town start sprouting up from the roadside.
He stops singing. “Yeah?”
“There’s some time before your shift. Would you like to come to mine for a cup of tea? I feel like I need to do some explaining.”
Though my eyes are glued to the road, I can sense him looking at me. A few seconds pass before he says, “Sure, that’d be nice.”
Relieved, I make a left at the next roundabout and drive us back to my block of flats. Once again, my heart is pounding. Is it possible to have a heart attack from emotional overstimulation? I guess I’ll find out.
“I’ll get to meet your cat!” Freddie announces.
“Yeah,” I say as I pull into my cul-de-sac, wrestling with the clutch. “Though he threw up in my shoe this morning so don’t be too nice to him.”
“Delightful,” Freddie says.
My usual parking spot has been taken so I’m forced to squeeze between a pair of four-by-fours.
I park as best I can and switch off the engine, shifting in my seat to glance at Freddie.
Twenty minutes of looking out the windscreen was almost long enough to forget how perfect he is.
I grimace, dreading the conversation that’s about to happen.
We open our respective doors and clamber out of the car.
At least, one of us does. I’m parked way too close to the vehicle on the right, meaning I’ve only got about a foot of wiggle room to drag myself through.
On the other side, Freddie’s having problems too, but he’s slim enough to sidle free of the gap.
I’m about halfway out when I get stuck, my belly pressed against the rim of the door, and my arse leaving a hefty print on my neighbour’s Jeep.
“You alright there?” Freddie asks, skirting around the bonnet.
“Yep,” I grunt, “just got to…”
I try to haul myself free, but I’ve wedged myself in like a doorstop. Bloody hell, why me?
Freddie laughs, affectionately. “Need a hand there, big fella?”
“Nope,” I place my free hand on the roof and try to prise myself free. No luck. I suck in my gut and attempt to squeeze myself back inside the car. That doesn’t work either. All options exhausted, I hang my head in defeat. “Yes, please.”
Freddie slips in between the cars, making it look easy, and takes hold of my forearm. “Ready? One, two, three!”
He pulls and I push and, with all the elegance of a shark on a trampoline, I spring free, stumbling over my own feet at the sudden momentum.
“Thank you,” I say, rubbing the spots where the metal dug into my flesh.
Embarrassing myself around Freddie is becoming an hourly occurrence. At least any tension between us, real or imaginary, seems to have dissipated for now.
“That’s the problem with being such a hunk,” Freddie exclaims as he shuts the door for me. “Too big for tight spaces.”
“Mmm,” I glance down at my gut, the gentle curved outline of it pressing against my shirt. “I should really take up jogging.”
“Nah,” Freddie says, without hesitation. “Nothing wrong with a beefcake who enjoys a bit of, well, actual cake. You look great.”
I manage a small smile.
We make our way inside, climbing the two flights of stairs to my flat. Upon opening the front door, Jester appears, his ginger tail dancing as he trots straight past me and coils himself around Freddie’s ankles.
“Why hello there, handsome!” Freddie squats down and scratches Jester’s ears. “You’re almost as good-looking as your dad.”
Freddie shoots me a wink that makes me melt.
“Come in,” I say, holding the door open for him.
He steps inside, Jester following keenly at his heels. I bring up the rear, closing the door behind me. With his hands on his hips, Freddie surveys my living room.
“Nice place!” he says. “Very neat.”
“Like your house,” I point out, hanging up my coat.
“Oh, that’s all Rory,” Freddie explains. “He likes things spotless. My room’s messy as hell but I’m forbidden from letting it spread.”
Truth be told, I don’t recall what state Freddie’s room was in—I’d been a little preoccupied looking anywhere but his crotch to notice.
“He’s quite strict, your brother?” I ask.
Freddie snorts. “That’s an understatement. His house is his temple. If I wasn’t a blood relative, he’d have evicted me years ago.”
A small chuckle escapes me. “Right. Tea?”
“Just water, thanks. Any more caffeine and I’ll have an aneurysm.”
I fetch us a glass each while Freddie plonks himself down on the sofa. Jester follows suit, leaping into his lap and curling up in a ball.
“He’s shameless.” I shake my head as I place our waters on the coffee table and sit next to Freddie.
“He’s gorgeous.” Freddie rubs under Jester’s chin.
We sit for a few moments, listening to him purr. As the silence stretches out, all my worries from the car come crashing back. I sit up straight and suck my teeth. “So about back there, in the café, I—”
Freddie holds up a hand, silencing me. “You’re fine, Shaun. You don’t need to apologise. Or explain. I just wasn’t sure what to do. If I could’ve helped you, I mean.”
A heavy warmth fills my chest. He was worried about me?
“That’s so nice of you, Freddie. It’s okay, though. Sometimes I just need to…”
“Go and hide in a toilet?” Freddie grins.
A dry huff of laughter escapes me.
“Yes. Sometimes I need to go and hide in a toilet.” I give a limp little shrug. “I’m working on it.”
I take a sip of water. Freddie’s hands are busy with Jester.
“How are you feeling now?” he asks.
Oh gosh, here we go.
“Like a wrung-out sponge,” I say. “Thanks for coming round. In the car, I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe I’d freaked you out or something.”
Freddie shakes his head. “Nope. No freak outs from me. I’m just glad you’re okay. And if there is anything I can do—”
“You’ve done plenty.” I smile, gratefully. “I had a great time today. You’re a cool guy, Freddie. I’m, er, I’m very glad I hired you.”
Wow, Shaun. Smooth. I clear my throat.
“What I mean is… thank you, Freddie. Despite everything, you really made my day.”
“Likewise.” Freddie looks at me, a keen glint in his eye.
“You were saying something. Back in the café, I mean. Before Mister Moustache came along with his free samples. Something about feelings—” I start stammering some half-baked explanation, but Freddie cuts across me, “—you don’t need to say it now, not if you don’t want to, that is.
I just thought you should know that, well, in case there’s any doubt… ”
He angles his body towards me, tipping a disgruntled Jester off his lap in the process.
“If you think you might be, I mean if you’re feeling what I think you’re feeling,” My face grows hot.
My heart’s beating so hard, it’s threatening to burst through my ribs.
Everything starts to shudder as my nerves give in to overwhelm once more.
How could they not? Nothing I’ve experienced comes close to this.
I grit my teeth, desperate to stay in the moment. Deep breaths.
My hands start to shake, and Freddie reaches out to hold them.
“What I’m saying is the feeling is mutual. I like you, Shaun. I mean, I really, really like you.”
Oh my god. He what? I blink at him, lost for words. Is this happening? This can’t be happening!
“Shaun?” Freddie cocks his head in that adorable, puppy dog way. “Say something.”