Chapter Seven
“What are you doing tonight?”
Jack looks up from shovelling Coco Pops into his mouth.
“I don’t know how you can eat that. It’s for kids.”
I grimace. Chocolate-covered puffed rice is gross.
“It’s delicious, and you didn’t answer me.”
“I’m meeting Kit after work, and we’re going out for dinner.”
I finish my toast and put the plate in the dishwasher.
“Sounds like a date to me,”
he mutters.
“Well, it’s not. It’s two people getting something to eat after a long day at work. Dates include hand-holding, kissing, and sometimes bed and a good orgasm. None of those things happen with us.”
“Only because you won’t admit you like him. Annnnd”—he drawls the word out—“in two weeks, you have to look and act like a couple. Last time I checked that means you’ve shared all of those things. If you can’t hold his hand, how are you going to look convincing as boyfriends?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll manage. It’s not like we have to persuade anyone. It’s not a reality show, Jack. We’re doing fine. We get on and know everything we need to about each other, so we can answer nosey-ass wives all the shit they like to know.”
“Then why are you still meeting?”
Jesus, he should change his last name to Russell. He’s like a dog with a bone. He won’t drop the subject.
“Because we’re friends. Bloody hell, Jack, this was your idea in the first place.”
I’m sick of going over the same thing again and again.
“That’s because you two should be together. You have the hots for each other and the desire to bump uglies. I thought you would’ve made it official by now. Like actually become boyfriends.”
He sighs. “I’ve got to go. Have a good evening.”
“Don’t nag at Kit today either.”
Jack rolls his eyes like he’s a teenager. “He talks about it even less than you.”
That stings. I would’ve thought Kit would be asking Jack about me. If only we had become real boyfriends. I’d love to hold his hand and kiss him when I see him. And fuck yes, I’d love to get some orgasms from him or give them to him. Every time we meet, it gets harder to treat him like I don’t want more. Why don’t I have the balls to ask him? “Hey, Kit, how about we drop all this pretend shit and do it for real?”
Hmm, that would be a huge fat “no way.”
I’m not ready for that sort of rejection.
About ten minutes after Jack, I get to work. My job is crazy enough to keep me busy all day. I don’t have time to debate or mull over Jack’s words. By the time I leave the office, I need a glass of wine or a gin and tonic like a man in the desert. I head to the tube station, bracing myself to get bumped and jostled for the short ride to Kensington.
When I walk through the door, Kit is standing at the bar, his back to me. I watch him for a minute. He’s everything I want in a boyfriend. He’s so gorgeous, with his long, muscular legs and messy hair as if he runs his hands through it all day. He’s in jeans, so he must’ve changed at work. I stare at his arse for longer than I should, but damn, it’s a beauty: high, round, and firm. As if he senses me ogling him, he turns around and cocks his eyebrow. My cheeks heat. Busted! He gives me a smile that lights up the room. Fuck, I’m doomed. I want more, so much more. But that wasn’t what we agreed on, so I smile back, walk over, and drop a kiss on his cheek. “Hi, sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.”
He looks a little flustered but quickly straightens. “No, you haven’t. Let me get you a drink.”
His beautiful smile is back. I stare at his mouth, which I want to feel on mine again. On me, all over me. Crap! This has got to stop. It’s going to hurt too much when we say goodbye, or it does turn into a friendship. I’ve got friends. I don’t want him as another one. I want him as my boyfriend.
Kit comes back with a drink for me. After hanging out for the last six weeks, we’re familiar enough with each other to know what we like to drink. “How was your day? You look stressed.”
“Jeez, thanks for that.”
I laugh. “Just because you’re all Mr designer label right down to your underwear doesn’t mean other people can afford it. Some of us don’t work at Tom Ford.”
“Ollie, baby, you look amazing in everything you wear. Hell, you’d look good with just a smile.”
He freezes, and the air seems to stand still between us. Does he mean he’s thought of me naked? Is he thinking of it now? Shit, say something quick. “Yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all the boys.”
He doesn’t laugh, though. His eyes are dark, and he dampens his bottom lip. We stare at each other for what feels like forever. A nudge by someone trying to reach the bar brings us back to the present.
I look at anything but him. Because if I do, I’m going to grab him and shove my tongue down his throat. I take a gulp of my drink to pull myself together and calm my racing heart. I dare a glance at him. He swallows his drink, avoiding my gaze. For the first time since we met again, we seem to have run out of words. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I want us to be normal again.
“I’m sorry, Ollie. I shouldn’t have said that. I hope you’re okay.”
“Kit, it was a joke. I can take a joke.”
I smile, and it feels like a natural one. I reach out and pat his arm.
“Yeah, sorry. Drink up. I’m starving. I booked a table at the Indian down the road. I fancied a curry. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, great.”
As we get outside, Kit takes my hand and laces our fingers together. Butterflies dance in my stomach. I hadn’t expected this, but it feels good. His palm is warm, and the heat spreads through my arm, leaving a little tingle in its wake. I like it.
“So, what did Jack say to you?”
I smirk at him.
“What? Why d’you ask?”
“Oh, nothing. Never mind.”
I lead him farther down the road. It only takes a few minutes until we get to the restaurant, but it feels like hours. Kit stays quiet but strokes his thumb up and down the back of mine.
By the time we’re sitting down, I’m getting worried. Has something gone wrong? “Kit, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
“What did you mean about Jack?”
“Oh, he said we’re dating because we meet up every week. I reminded him that we were friends and that dating meant holding hands and shit like that. He said we should be touching each other, y’know, like couples do. That’s why I thought you took my hand, that he told you to touch me more.”
God, I’m rambling. Stop talking, Ollie. You sound ridiculous.
“Is that why you kissed me when we met tonight? Because I’ve gotta say it was a nice surprise. Holding your hand felt good. Maybe we should do it more often.”
He smiles. Is he teasing me, or is he serious?
“I didn’t mean to kiss you. No, I mean, I didn’t plan to.”
I reiterate as disappointment washes over his face. “Maybe I should be apologising for that. I don’t know what’s up with me.”
My cheeks heat again. “Why don’t you shut me up when I waffle on?”
Kit grins. “I happen to love it when you waffle. You’re usually so calm and put together. I like watching you get flustered. It’s cute. It’s like the real you comes out.”
“Oh god, that’s worse. I’m always the geek. That’s why Monty treats me like he does. He takes advantage of it and thinks it’s funny to embarrass me even more.”
“Monty is an arsehole. If he starts on you at the gala, I can’t guarantee to keep my mouth shut.”
“Are you going to be my knight in shining armour? You’ll swoop in and rescue me.”
I chuckle, but Kit doesn’t join in.
“There are lots of things I would do for you, Ollie.”
He peruses me with eyes that have darkened and slowly slides his hand over the table and covers my own.
Before I can think of a reply that doesn’t make me sound like a dick, the waiter arrives. We place our order, and silence descends again.
“What’s going on, Kit?”
I whisper. I look down at my hand. Subconsciously I’ve turned it over so we’re holding hands again. When I try to pull it away, he tightens his grip.
“You know what’s going on, Ollie.”
This is getting out of hand.
I’m going to have to stop this.
It’s not what we agreed.
Kit’s not interested in me, not like that. He would’ve asked me out the night Jack brought him to the bar. He joked and said it could be fun.
“Kit.”
I can’t think of what to say. My brain has disconnected itself from my mouth.
“Don’t worry about it, Ollie. Everything is fine, I promise.”
He lets go of my hand and leans back in his chair. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I hate the tightness there, and I hate it even more that I don’t know how to fix it.
By the time our meal is delivered, he’s back to his normal sunny self and tells me about his mother’s monthly Sunday lunch.
“The poor man didn’t know what to do with himself. I’m not even sure he was gay.”
He laughs. “I may have to take you to the next one so she’ll think you’re my boyfriend and leave me alone.”
And there we have it. He doesn’t want anything more than being a fake boyfriend. For him, it’s simply something fun to do.
We’ve finished eating and are waiting for the bill. I pull out my wallet, but Kit stops me. “I’ve got it. It was my choice tonight. It’s only fair I pay for it too.”
When we get outside, I flag down a cab. “Do you want to share this one?”
I ask. The strange look is back on his face again. He pulls me towards him, cups my face, and kisses me. This is like the first one we shared when Monty was bugging me. He slips his tongue over the seam of my lips with enough pressure for me to open for him. He tastes of the mints he had from the plate with the bill. The strong, possessive way he commands the kiss has me going weak at the knees. He strokes his tongue over mine, caressing and cajoling me to join in. It’s heavenly. I can imagine it like this as he lies over me, sliding into my body and owning me. Then it’s over with, and he winks.
“No, we live in opposite directions. I’ll get my own. See you on Friday.”
He steps back as I get into the cab. The cab pulls out into the traffic, and I stare straight ahead, not giving in to the urge to look back at him.