Chapter Seven
Oliver
I stood outside the door to The Sleeping Goose wondering what the ever-loving fuck I was doing there.
This was nonsense. Absolute nonsense. I knew Lane had invited me to join him and his friends, but I shouldn’t have taken him up on it.
Especially when it meant facing at least three people who’d known me as a teenager and who I was sure had boundless opinions about me.
But Lane had invited me. He wanted me there. And that had to mean something.
We still hadn’t talked about our breakup, but we had talked about everything else this week.
It seemed like every time I made tea, or came back from my wanderings around town, or took a break in the garden, Lane was there.
He’d seen me try, and fail, to use my camping stove, and his teasing had made my heart race and skin flush.
It felt like we were making up for lost time without acknowledging that we’d been apart.
“The door won’t open if you just stare at it,” said Lane from behind me.
I turned to see him standing on the pavement, highlighted by the evening sun, with a cheeky smile on his face.
He was wearing a black t-shirt that looked like it had been painted on and a pair of grey jeans that emphasised just how perfect his thighs were.
It was really, really hard not to stare.
“I know,” I said, trying to pretend he hadn’t caught me off guard. “I was just—”
“Debating whether or not to go in?”
“Something like that.” I huffed out a weak laugh.
“It’s just a drink with some mates,” Lane said. “Nobody’s going to throw you out. And we’re all queer as fuck if that’s something you’re worried about.”
“All of you?” I asked. Lane had been openly bisexual since he was fourteen when I’d told him about my crush.
Alex had come out as gay at thirteen in the most achingly casual way, and Noah had followed at sixteen, so I didn’t know why I was surprised Lane had managed to expand his friend group to include more queer people. We did all tend to find each other.
Lane shrugged. “Yeah, apart from maybe Spencer. He’s super chill though and like our resident himbo.”
“I remember Spencer. Didn’t he go off to play football?
” Spencer had been three years above us at school, and I remembered him being both exceedingly good-looking and relaxed even back then.
Sport had always been Spencer’s entire life, whether that was playing it, watching it, or talking about it, and it had always annoyed the fuck out of Alex.
“Yeah, for a few years. He was good,” Lane said with a half smile.
“He got signed by Greenwich Athletic, but then he busted his ankle while on loan, and it never quite fully healed. I think he could play, but eventually it just got too much, and the doctors recommended he retire before he did himself permanent damage.”
“Shit. I didn’t know that.” I almost felt guilty for not keeping up with everything, but Lane just waved his hand.
“Doesn’t matter. Spencer’s chill, but it’s something he doesn’t really talk about.”
“Okay, I won’t say anything.” We were still stood on the pavement outside the pub, and a couple of people walked past us to get inside. As the door opened, I heard a burst of laughter and loud chatter. I tilted my head towards the door. “It sounds busy.”
“It usually is,” Lane said, “but the guys will have gotten us a couple of tables outside, so we’ll be fine.” He gave me a smile, and my stomach fluttered. Every time I’d seen Lane this week my internal organs had done their best tap-dance routines, and I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed or pleased.
I knew after everything I should have felt something other than excitement at seeing Lane again, but my body didn’t seem to have gotten the message.
My base instincts could only focus on how gorgeous Lane was and how much I wanted to touch him.
Even my brain seemed content to linger on how nice it had been to chat with him again this week and how much I’d missed being able to talk to him.
“Come on,” Lane said as he headed for the door. “Enough dawdling. I need a drink.”
He beckoned me to follow him, and I knew it was too late to turn back. Taking a deep breath and squashing down the thoughts that were screaming that this was a horrible idea, I followed Lane into the pub.
The inside of The Sleeping Goose was everything and nothing like I’d expected. It was packed with people—from groups clustered around tables to old regulars nursing pints at the bar and chatting with a blond-haired man whose face was vaguely familiar.
The décor was an odd mix of classic cosy pub in need of a makeover—dark patterned carpet and a selection of weird and wonderful knick-knacks adorning the wall—and something fun and fresh.
As we weaved our way through the crowd, I realised half the pictures on the wall were of Heather Bay, and half were vintage-style Pride posters.
There was a progress Pride flag hanging behind the bar, and the chalkboard in the corner advertised both a quiz night and the pub’s weekly showing of the latest season of Drag Stars UK. It was a bit different from the normal selection of football matches most pubs usually showed.
Lane led me to a door at the back that was propped open with a doorstop in the shape of a fat goose wearing a top hat and out into a small garden that was just as packed with people.
Off to one side, half in the shade of a large tree, two picnic tables had been pushed together and were currently occupied by six people.
One of them recognised Lane and waved, and the whole group turned.
I plastered on a smile, hoping it would cover my nerves, and tried to ignore the bubbling sensation in my stomach.
“Hey,” Lane said as we strolled up to the table. “This is Oliver.”
“Hi,” I said, raising my hand in greeting as I glanced around at the faces currently looking at me with expressions that ranged from cool disdain to friendly interest.
“You know Alex and Noah,” Lane said, pointing to the pair who sat next to each other at the second table.
Both were still recognisable, even if they’d changed since I’d last seen them.
Noah gave me a friendly smile, his whole body exuding the warmth I’d always associated with him, while Alex just nodded, his mouth set in a firm line.
He still looked like he was about to stroll onstage somewhere with his enormous sunglasses and chipped black nail polish, although the tattoo sleeves were a new addition.
Seeing the pair of them made something pull in my chest. Lane, Noah, Alex, and I had been friends since primary school when Lane and I had found ourselves sitting around a table with them on the first day of year three.
Lane and I were already best friends, having first met at Tumble Tots when we were three, but it had been easy to add the brash, mouthy Alex and the sweet, shy Noah to our friendship.
It had always been the four of us against the world.
That had been one of the hardest things about my breakup with Lane. I hadn’t just lost him. I’d lost the rest of my friends in the fallout as well.
“Then we’ve got Spencer and Will,” Lane continued, barely giving me time to process my swirling mess of emotions.
Spencer beamed at me, and I realised Will was the one who’d waved us over when we arrived.
Spencer still looked like a surfer boy with Hollywood good looks, whereas Will had dark hair and warm eyes that seemed to hold great depth.
“And Laurie and Theo.” Laurie lifted his hand and nodded, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders.
He had striking, smoky make-up around his eyes and glittering silver rings on his fingers, half of which were ornamented with skulls.
Theo, who sat next to him leaning against his shoulder, couldn’t have looked more different with his bright blond hair, blue eyes, and soft pink sundress patterned with white flowers.
He was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.
In fact, all Lane’s friends were fucking gorgeous. They were like an ice cream sundae of deliciousness with Lane as the perfect cherry on top.
And now I was thinking in ridiculous ice cream metaphors… Great, just great.
I realised I was still staring at Laurie and Theo. The two of them looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
“Laurie did Iris’s funeral,” Lane said quietly, filling in the blanks and making things click. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised him, but Mum had made most of the arrangements, and Laurie looked different out of the dark suit he’d worn at the funeral.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, hoping I could keep my nerves together long enough to avoid putting my foot in my mouth or making myself look like a total banana. “Thanks for letting me gate crash.”
“No worries,” Spencer said, waving my words away as if I shouldn’t have even considered them. “Grab a seat.”
They’d saved Lane and I one side of the nearest bench, and I sat down at the end, opposite Will.
I still felt awkward and a little like I was going into an interview.
I desperately wanted to make a good impression, but I had no idea what Lane had told them about me.
They might already think I was a complete bastard.
“What do you want to drink?” Lane asked. He leant over my shoulder, and I got another faint whiff of something sharp and herbal like thyme or rosemary. He was so close to me I could almost feel his breath on my cheek, and I tried to ignore the way my heart began to race.
“Surprise me.” I genuinely couldn’t think of what I wanted, and I didn’t think I’d be able to taste whatever it was anyway.
“Okay. One surprise and”—he looked around the table—“what do you lot want?”