Chapter 22
GET A JOB
MICHAEL
I’ve died and gone to Heaven. That was the only possible explanation for how my day had gone.
After our second incredible night together, I was terrified he’d wake up and regret what happened last night.
When I woke up with his morning glory poking me in the bum, I put it down to biology, nothing more.
Ten minutes later when he came all over my back after fucking my arse crack, then rolled me over and sucked my soul out of my dick, I still wasn’t certain. He might have just seen this morning as a continuation of the night before, which he might have still viewed as another one-off.
The kiss he placed on my cheek as he cuddled me from behind while I made tea told a different story.
All morning he found ways to touch me. Sometimes they were romantic touches like kisses, tight embraces, and even a slap on my bum when I bent down to put the dishes away.
Then there were times when he was just passing by and brushed his fingers down my arm or placed his hand on my lower back.
Each touch was fucking delicious, and I was becoming a glutton for them.
By the mid-afternoon, I got brave enough to touch him, to kiss him.
We did nothing all day, or nothing of any importance.
We ate toast and drank tea for breakfast. We watched telly, entwined on the couch.
Mick shouted at the News when the reporter announced that England had made it to the World Cup semi-finals and then went on a rant about the Irish and English football teams that I didn’t understand, but the passion and conviction he effused was intoxicating and I could have listened to him for hours.
In the afternoon, we went for a walk and ended up in a pub for a pint. I made us dinner, and we washed up together, listening to Radio Caroline. After some more television, we fell into bed again.
Mick fell asleep almost straight after his third orgasm in twenty-four hours, leaving me lying in bed with a dopey smile on my face and stars in my eyes. We weren’t snuggled up this time, but he still had a hand on my chest as he slept, like he couldn’t stand to not be touching me.
Turning to face the man I’d been head over heels over for more than a year, my heart swelled with joy.
In sleep, he was even more beautiful because there was something magical about him.
Long, thick, auburn lashes fluttered on his cheeks as his eyes moved around in his dreams. In the low light, the freckles on his creamy skin were harder to see, but they were still there, pebbled over his nose and cheeks and also his shoulders and chest.
It was hard to believe that this was real. That this remarkable man was in my bed, asleep after a simple, domestic day of doing nothing, which had been one of the best Sundays of my life. Scratch that, it had been one of the best days of my life.
We should have talked about the change between us, but I was so afraid that if we spoke about what was happening, the bubble would burst. I hoped so much that it was the start of something, but I knew that whatever it was, I would accept it. I was willing to take whatever this man gave me.
The next morning was Monday, and I had to get up and go to work. I’d had a few days off last week to look after a ‘family member’ that I didn’t say outright but implied was an elderly aunt incapable of looking after herself and with no other relation to help.
Yawning and stretching, I allowed myself to peck Mick on the cheek, and then got up to get ready for my day.
When I got out of the bathroom half an hour later, I expected to find Mick still in bed, but he wasn’t there.
A flash of panic went through me that he’d left, but it disappeared when I heard Mick singing along to the radio in the kitchen.
Sensing me there, he turned around and gave me a glowing smile. “Morning, sweetheart. Tea should be steeped well by now, and the last of the toast is about to–”
Pop.
“How’s that for timing?” He beamed at me.
Taking the toast out of the toaster, I looked around for the plate he’d put the other slices on. Laughter burst out of me when I saw a plate piled with six slices of toast in varying degrees of burnt. Top marks for trying, Mick.
I never had more than two slices of toast, maybe with a bit of marmalade for breakfast. Mick’s appetite was insatiable. Not just for food either. I buttered the toast, and put it on the table. We sat and ate in comfortable silence, and it was perfect.
“What are you smiling about?” Mick asked me through a toothy grin.
“You know what. The same thing that’s put that look on your face. Or at least I hope so.” This was the closest I’d come to mentioning the elephant in the room.
His cheeks went cherry red. “Yeah, I reckon it’s the same thing.” Reaching across the table, he squeezed my hand, then hid his face behind his cup of tea. That was that then, I supposed. We were whatever we were.
We’d have to talk about living arrangements at some point.
Did he want to stay here? I’d have him move in in a heartbeat, but it was far too soon, and he might feel like I was just letting him stay out of pity.
He didn’t have anywhere to go right now, not without a job, so I’d broach that subject when he found work and had more options.
“So I’m going to go and bang on doors today.
See if I can find some work somewhere. I’ll try all the warehouses, factories, and shops.
Failing that, I'll try the docks, but I don’t want to end up in the dockyard if I can help it.
It’s backbreaking work and long hours early in the morning.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that, but I’ll try my luck up this end of town and work towards the river. ”
“Good plan.”
Rifling through my kitchen junk drawer, my fingers caught the cold metal of the object I’d been looking for.
“Here you go, take this, so you can come and go as you please. I’ll try and get back for a bit at lunch time, and if you do the same, we could eat together.
Otherwise, I’ll be home at about six o clock, give or take. ”
Mick stared at my outstretched hand. “That’s a key.”
“Very good. You’ll find work in no time with that sharp mind of yours.”
“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “Is that the key to your flat?”
“What else would it be the key to, Mick?”
“I don’t know…”
He was floundering. I had no idea giving him my spare key would affect him like this. “You don’t have to take it, but I just thought it would make life easier if–”
He snatched it out of my hand before I could move away. “No, I want it. I do. Thank you. For trusting me. For looking after me. For giving me a place to stay. For being… for being you. Just thank you.”
My mouth dropped open. He was so grateful for the simplest of things–things that took no effort or sacrifice to give him. I’d give him the whole world if he asked for it.
“Sorry, I’m not good with words, I just–”
Closing the gap between us in two paces, I held his face in my hands and pulled him into a kiss.
Pressing my lips into his, I hoped he knew my kiss was telling him what I was too scared to say out loud.
His hands went to the nape of my neck, and he pulled me into him.
The kiss softened, and we used our lips and tongues to share our feelings for each other without saying a word.
Leaving the flat was a difficult thing to do.
Since he’d landed on my doorstep abandoned and soaked through, I hadn’t walked out the front door without him.
Even though he was staying, and he had a key, and I knew he’d come back, it was terrifying walking away from him.
I was so worried that it would break the spell, and he wouldn’t be mine anymore.
Was he mine? It really fucking felt like it.
When I got back to the flat, two portions of fish and chips clutched to my chest and a plastic bag in my hand, it was empty.
It was half past seven, and I’d expected Mick to be here, hungry and horny.
The second part might have been wishful thinking, but the first part was guaranteed–that boy ate like nothing I’d ever seen before.
But he wasn’t here. Trying not to worry, I lit the oven and turned it to the lowest setting, emptied the two dinners out of the newspaper wrapping onto plates, and put them in to keep warm. Ignoring all the bad scenarios that might have kept him away, I concentrated on the more positive ones.
He might have bumped into a mate and gone for a drink. He could have landed a job right away and was putting in some hours already. He might have gone back home… no that didn’t seem like a happy scenario, or very likely.
Just as my brain was trying to suggest some less palatable possibilities, there was a knock at the door. Hurrying over, I opened it to find Mick, looking knackered and devastated.
“Sorry, I forgot I had the key,” he said when he came in. He sounded done in.
“That’s okay, don’t worry about it. What happened? Are you alright?”
“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I must have talked to fifty different managers, foreman, owners and their cats.
I started at the warehouses, like I’d planned.
Then I tried the factories. I did go all the way to the dock.
I thought someone was going to take me up on it, but then… then they didn’t. Nobody wanted me.”
The words were heavy and filled with so much more than being rejected by dozens of employers. Standing in the hall, staring at his feet, his hands fiddling with the edge of his jacket, he looked desolate.
“Come on, love. I got us fish and chips. It’s in the oven, but it’s only been in ten minutes, it should still be good.”
“You bought dinner?” His big doe eyes looked up at me, glassy and vulnerable.
“Only from the chippy. Nothing special. Go and sit in the living room and I’ll bring it to you.”
“Eat dinner on the sofa?” His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, like I’d just suggested we dance around the Hallfield estate bollock-naked.
“Yeah, why not?”