Chapter One
Noah
My head was pounding, and there were stars bursting behind my eyes despite the fact I hadn’t even opened them.
The darkness was spinning, and I felt bile rising in my throat, even though it seemed like my body was refusing to actually throw up.
Everything hurt, and I heard the pitiful moan that escaped my lips before I realised I’d made it.
I shifted slightly, realising I was lying down, possibly in bed, judging by the way something heavy and soft shifted across my skin. I’d managed to lose my shirt and jeans at some point, but since I had no memory of even making it to bed, I had no idea when or how that had happened.
The last thing I remembered was being at Lane and Oliver’s housewarming party the night before, drinking something Laurie had made.
Daquiris maybe. They must have been stronger than I’d thought, although I’d always been a lightweight, so it didn’t take much to knock me on my ass. Figuratively and literally.
I’d known Lane and Oliver for years because we’d grown up together, and they’d dated as teens before falling out just before Oliver left for university.
Then, four months ago, he’d moved back to Heather Bay, the small Yorkshire town the rest of us called home, to renovate his late grandmother’s cottage, and Lane had been the site manager.
They’d ended up reconnecting and realising just how much they’d missed each other, which was incredibly sweet, at least in my eyes.
Oliver had originally been planning to sell the cottage, but he and Lane had wound up moving into it instead and had spent the last few months doing it up.
Last night was the first time they’d had us all round to show us the result of all their efforts.
What was supposed to have been a chilled night with my friends, celebrating an incredible milestone for two of them, had turned into one big mess. I knew Lane and Oliver would forgive me for ruining their evening, but I didn’t know if I’d forgive myself. I’d been such a fool.
I groaned again and rolled onto my back. I’d been curled into a ball, probably in some subconscious hope that it would help, and it must have done because as soon as I stretched out, my body rebelled.
God, I was never drinking again. I was too old for this.
I’d been too old for it at my twenty-first birthday when my best friend, Alex, had insisted we all do a line of tequila shots off the bar.
Chucking my guts up in the middle of Newcastle city centre had not been the highlight of my evening, but unfortunately, it was one of the only parts I remembered.
Alex had also been three sheets to the wind and this close to picking a fight with a group of lads over something petty, but he’d been sweet enough to take me back to my uni house and sit with me while I clutched the toilet and muttered nonsensically.
He’d always looked out for me ever since we’d first met.
I assumed he’d been the one to bring me home last night.
With a deep breath, I decided it was time to open my eyes. The spinning and dizziness couldn’t get any worse, and at least if I opened them, I’d be able to check the time and assess the damage. Although I assumed I’d slept away at least half of Sunday already.
My eyes fluttered open, and I was immediately struck by two thoughts.
The first was that the dim light actually made the spinning slightly better.
And the second was that this wasn’t actually my room.
Or my house.
The room I was in had a sloped ceiling that led down to an enormous set of curtains that ran along the entire wall opposite the bed.
I assumed there were windows behind them since that was the source of the light.
The walls to my left and right were both painted a warm, pale yellow, and as I tilted my head, a move I instantly regretted, I saw the wall behind the bed was made of exposed brick.
The bed I’d found myself in was enormous, but only the side I was currently occupying was disturbed, which meant I hadn’t had company.
That made sense, but I still didn’t know where the fuck I was.
This definitely wasn’t mine or Alex’s room.
It wasn’t either of the spare rooms in Lane and Oliver’s cottage either.
Theo and Laurie’s flat was too small and the wrong shape to have a room like this, so that ruled them out, and it wasn’t Will’s farmhouse either since there was a notable absence of accompanying farm noises in the background.
That only left Spencer.
Fuck. Was I at Spencer’s house? In Spencer’s bed?
I groaned and threw my arm over my face. As if my morning couldn’t get any worse, there was now a very strong chance I was in my best friend’s older brother’s bed. The older brother who I’d known since I was seven and had had a crush on since I was thirteen.
The older brother who was kind, funny, charming, and Hollywood levels of gorgeous.
And also completely and utterly straight.
“What am I doing?” I muttered to myself or at least tried too. My words came out hoarse and choked like I was missing half my vocal cords. I groaned again, self-pity creeping in around the edges of my immense hangover.
I lifted my arm and glanced at the side of the bed, hoping I’d be able to find my phone. Then I’d be able to message Alex and ask him what the fuck had happened.
My phone wasn’t on the neat, wooden bedside table. But there was a large glass of water and an open box of paracetamol.
I smiled because the gesture was so adorably Spencer. There was a note too, scrawled on a small, green Post-it Note.
Good morning!
Drink the water and take two pills. I put spare clothes on the armchair for you. Come down when you’re ready, and we’ll have breakfast!
Spencer =D
I chuckled, then groaned as my muscles protested the idea of laughing. Why did everything hurt so much? I couldn’t remember falling over, and I wasn’t even thirty.
Perhaps this was my body’s way of reminding me not to let Laurie make me any more drinks.
Ever so slowly, I slid into a sitting position. My pace would have given a sloth a run for its money, but it worked because I made it into an upright position without feeling the need to throw up. My head was still throbbing, but the dizziness had started to ebb, and I considered that progress.
The water in the glass was still cold, which meant Spencer couldn’t have left it out for me that long ago, but the sheer relief the cool liquid brought me dissolved any embarrassment I might have felt at that realisation.
Besides, if Spencer was the one who’d brought me back here, he’d probably seen me in a far worse state.
I barely remembered to take the paracetamol before I drained the glass, wishing it would magically refill itself. Now that I’d had one glass, my body was craving more. But the only way to get that was going to be to get up, and that prospect felt like climbing Everest.
It was either that or stay here until Spencer came to check on me again, and I didn’t know when that would be.
With another deep breath, I slowly pushed the duvet off me. Spencer must have stripped my clothes off when we came back because I was just in my boxers and socks. I felt my face flame, and I wished I could magically disappear.
I’d dreamt about Spencer undressing me for years, but none of those fantasies had involved me being so flat-out wasted that I couldn’t remember any of it.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, scrubbing my face and feeling the brush of weekend stubble under my palms. What the hell had I said to Spencer last night?
Had I told him how I felt? Had I gone even further and started waxing lyrical about how fucking beautiful he was or the details of the sordid fantasies my imagination had concocted over the years?
There was no coming back from that if I had.
Spencer might be sweet enough to laugh it off, but I’d never be able to look him in the face again. I might as well just move to the Outer Hebrides and become a hermit.
But the biggest problem was that I couldn’t get out of the house without seeing Spencer, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to escape him for long.
He was my best friend’s brother and business partner as well as a regular at our Friday nights at the pub.
I couldn’t just stop going to those because I wanted to avoid Spencer and didn’t want to find out the truth about my drunken antics.
Alex would be bound to catch on quick, and then he’d get the truth out of me with just a pointed look.
It would be better to rip the plaster off now and spend the rest of my life apologising.
The wooden floor was cool under my feet as I swung my legs out of bed, looking around the room for the armchair Spencer had mentioned in his note. It was hard to miss—a large, squishy-looking yellow armchair sat in the far corner with a neat pile of clothes folded on it.
Nausea and dizziness threatened to overwhelm me as I stood, and I had to put my hand on the bedside table to steady myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly while silently hoping that would help.
I did it again, just for good measure, before I opened my eyes and took a few shaky steps over to the chair.
I’d been expecting to see my own clothes from last night there, but instead there was a dark green t-shirt, a pair of grey joggers, socks, and a clean pair of boxers.
Since none of them were mine, that obviously made them Spencer’s, and that made my head spin before a single thought popped my excitement like a balloon.
I didn’t think any of it was going to fit me.
Spencer wasn’t that much taller than me, and although he had fairly muscular shoulders, he was lean and fit. He’d been into sport for as long as I’d known him, and although his dreams of a sporting career had ended devastatingly early, he still had an athlete’s body.
Me on the other hand…
I was tall, but I was also soft and round.
I had a belly; a furry, soft chest; and thick thighs that I fucking loved.
It hadn’t always been the body I wanted, but it was the one I’d grown to love over the years.
It was strong as well from spending hours in the swimming pool, the one form of exercise, apart from long walks, that I’d always adored.
My dad had taught me to swim before I could walk, and I’d always found the pool to be a place of utter calm and peace, where I could reset my thoughts and focus on nothing but the kick of my legs and the swoop of my arms.
It was the place I went to escape everything else and just be.
Being the quiet, chubby, gay guy had always made me feel out of place despite the fact that all my friends were both queer and incredibly loving.
In hindsight, any issues I had were largely down to the toxic male body image that had been continuously pushed by the media throughout my childhood, and some of the queer men I’d met at university had embodied the worst of those issues.
The rampant fatphobia I’d been exposed to had been horrifying and had left me sobbing down the phone to Alex on more than one occasion.
And then one morning, after spending an hour in the local swimming pool, I’d finally decided to say fuck it to other people’s opinions and live for myself.
Which had sounded easy on paper but had been a lot harder in reality. But it was something I still tried to live by, even if I didn’t always believe it.
I picked up the t-shirt, which was worn and buttery soft and smelt like Spencer—something warm and gentle like being embraced by a summer breeze fragranced with lavender and lemons.
It fell open in my hands, and I realised it was larger than I thought.
When I pulled it on, it clung to my skin, but it wasn’t too tight or short.
All it did was fill my senses with the scent of Spencer.
The socks were fine since they were just socks, but the boxers were tighter than I would have normally worn, literally showing every curve and vein on my dick and balls.
Luckily, the oversized joggers were looser, so I wasn’t going to spend the whole morning trying to cover my crotch.
I didn’t want Spencer to think I was deliberately trying to force my cock in his face, especially if I’d rambled at him last night about how much I wanted to fuck him.
I scrubbed my face again and sighed. I knew there was no option left now except to go downstairs, especially since Spencer had probably heard me moving around. If I stayed up here much longer, I could see him forming a search party.
“Come on,” I said to myself. “It won’t be that bad.”
Alex had always said I was a happy, sleepy drunk, so I crossed all my fingers and toes that that was as far as I’d gotten last night.
Then I pulled open the door and made my way down the stairs.