Chapter 8
Oliver
“She’s nice, that Anne,” I said, trying to kick the door to our apartment shut, balancing two cups of tea in my hands and a packet of stolen biscuits under my arm.
I was still dressed in this awful suit, which, in my honest opinion, was completely wrong for me.
I was skinny, but there was skinny and emaciated, which I was not.
Not yet. And I counted the way Peter lit up at the sight of those biscuits as a massive win.
“I thought you dentists didn’t snack,” I teased.
“You need to look after your teeth,” he grumped, ripping into the packet with just that…his teeth. Brutal, but yet? I laughed because I thought that would probably make great TV.
“I can see this bit here as your opening trailer. Peter is a paediatric orthodontist from London, and he cares greatly about his teeth.” I wasn’t proud of the silly voice I’d put on, but hey.
Smiling was good. And we were back in the safety of our room with nobody trying to touch my bum and get in my good books.
“Oh God,” he groaned, rolling over on the bed where he’d simply thrown himself down on top of the covers. To be honest? I wanted to do the same, tea and all. But thankfully, he sat himself up and received the teacup from my outstretched hands.
“The cups are from Darcie Blush. Gorgeous design.”
“You have to stop with the product promotions. You’re making me look bad!”
“I’m saving your arse here, Peter. Now, Anne. What do we think?”
“She’s with Jorge, and he says she’s pleasant enough, but she’s a good two feet taller than him and he’s as intimidated as anything. His words.”
“Oh. Good gossip. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s all gossip.” The groans coming from him as he sipped the tea were almost hilarious. But I got it. We were both wrung out, and I did…surprisingly…make a good cup of tea.
“And it will all be public gossip,” I agreed. “Did you read the call sheet? The first episode will air in two weeks. Two! They don’t hang around here; the editing team is working twenty-four seven, so no wonder they’re all shouting at us to say the right things.”
“Instead we’re all gossiping and name-dropping.” He rolled his shoulders, again loudly sipping his tea. “And drinking tea like two little grannies.”
“Granddads.” I laughed. “Well, you’re the granddad.”
“Which makes you what? What was it you called yourself? A hot twink?”
I liked that he was so easy to get on with. Just simple conversation and ready smiles. He had no idea how much I had needed just this. Something uncomplicated. Straightforward.
“I thought you were straight, Peter.”
“Labels are for jam, at least that’s what Wren was saying. But I am starting to question everything. Is every single couple on this show awfully mismatched or what?”
“I think that’s the whole point of the show.
One of the production team was talking to someone else.
Gina was talking to Jorge, I think, and I was waiting to film with her, so I kind of eavesdropped.
When the first episode goes live, the voting will start.
The viewing public will matchmake, and then on Friday, we will all get recoupled.
I am assuming that’s why. Someone in here is the perfect match for us, but we don’t know who yet.
And I suppose… with the two week backlog on episodes… how will that even work?”
“So…I will be moving in with someone else?”
“What do I know?”
“Oh.” He looked genuinely shocked. “It’s only been a day, but I like being…with you.” He suddenly looked embarrassed, his cheeks blushing under an awkward smile. “I don’t mean like that. You know. I was just settling into that fact, and now…this?”
“I’m trying to figure out who was meant for whom. I mean, you have options. We have Diane, who fancies you, and Anne, who kept trying to talk to you. Then there was Xanthe.”
“Xanthe is trans. And only interested in men her age. I’m too old.”
“Well, who’s prejudiced now?”
“I’m not, I had a quick chat with her; her teeth are fantastic. Done locally, and I know her dentist. I’m just being sensible here. I can’t see anyone else being an option for me, but Xanthe? No. She’s as confused as we are as to why she’s with…Gerald.”
“Chloe-Catherine doesn’t seem confused?” I was just kidding, and his eye-roll made me laugh.
“Thank you, but no. I have no intention of becoming Chloe-Catherine’s sugar-daddy,” he said quietly, staring me down. I’d noticed that earlier; he could be a little intense at times. I didn’t think I minded.
“What even is that?” Tea. I rarely drank tea, but I think I liked it. Calming. I needed to be calm. Not panic over spelling-technicalities. “The double-barrelled thing. She’s obsessed.”
“A brand…” He rolled his eyes. I definitely I liked him. He was funny, and normal.
“No, I meant, thank you. To you.”
“I’ve done nothing. Just brought tea.”
“For doing this with me. You could have walked out.”
Strangely, I smiled. A warmth filling my chest. I was rarely…appreciated. And this somehow felt just like that.
“Not giving up yet,” I gulped out, trying to swallow another mouthful of hot liquid. “But, at least you have options. There’s only Bisexual-Ben left for me, and he scares me. And to be honest? I don’t think I’m his type at all.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He gave off those vibes. I mean, you meet people, and you kind of know. Straight away, virtual thorns out, all prickly.”
“Like me.”
“Just like you.” I smiled. I wasn’t being rude, but he got that. Got me. The relief was like another welcome balm to my soul.
“Tell me about that,” he continued, getting comfortable on the bed. “These sheets are from Donna Truham’s private luxury range. Did you know that, Oliver?”
“I did not know that, Peter. And are they available to purchase from her website?”
He was holding that laughter in as I smiled at the camera attached to the wall.
“They are indeed, Oliver. Donna Truham dot com. Use the code Save the Date for your exclusive ten per cent off!”
“That is such a good deal!” I squealed. Then I rolled my eyes. “That’s enough of that stuff. Tell me about your work.”
“Na-ah-ah…I asked first. Tell me about this instant vibe. In my days, we used to go out to nightclubs and meet girls. You had to compliment them on their hair, their dress and how nice they smelled. Then you had to ask them to dance. It was really simple because they could just say no, and then you knew and moved on. Dignity intact. These days?”
“It’s not that complicated. You meet someone. Stare at them. They stare back. If they hold eye contact, you might, you know? Clink glasses. Have a little snog.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Well, you have to kind of…be in a gay club if you wanna kiss boys. So I have no idea how it works for women…”
“You’ve never been with a woman, I assume?”
“Absolutely not. I’m a gold star gay me.”
“Fair enough. Wait… Gold star?”
“A gay guy who’s never been with a woman. Never been inside a vagina.”
“Okay?”
“Not a platinum star gay though, sadly. That’s a…” I leant over and whispered into his ear. “A platinum star gay is a gay guy who’s never been inside a vagina at all. C-section baby.”
I pulled back slowly for effect, laughing out loud as his face bloomed red.
“I’ve never met someone who blushes as much as you.”
“I’m a sheltered, middle-aged dentist, mate!” he shrieked, but he was laughing. Good for him.
“I think you just made yourself another meme there,” I declared, boldly throwing my arms out.
“Well. I’m ticking them off one by one. Here’s the next one. What if you’re just an ordinary bloke who suddenly has a male partner? What are you then? A brick gay or something?”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.” I smiled.
“It’s just human, isn’t it? We like who we like.” Peter was a nice guy. I had to admit it.
“It’s just who we are, isn’t it? I just always knew. Never hid it. Life can be stupid that way. I mean, what’s the point of hiding what you are? What you’re into?”
“Very true. And I mean, my darling wife was a staunch defender of everyone’s right to love whomever they wanted to love. She… Sorry. I shouldn’t talk about my wife.”
“You should. Because she is still important to you?”
“She is. Her name was Mary.”
“Mary. And how did you meet Mary?”
I had no idea where the questions were coming from, but now I was lying down on the bed next to him, still fiddling with my empty cup, listening to stories from his university days and laughing at his…plain naivety with all of this.
“Met at university, first day. Lived in the same dorm block and it was just like… Boring really, but we fell in love and that was that.”
He kept talking, and it was not boring at all, far from it.
“I like that you don’t care,” came out of my mouth in the middle of some rant about the pitfalls of fame. Because apparently he’d been…some kind of celebrity. And he was honestly so far away from what I assumed a celebrity would be. He was… “You’re like the most normal person I’ve ever met.”
“Careful, you’ll end up a meme on the interweb too.” He grinned.
“Nah, no more space on that internet, you’ve already taken them all. I mean, I want to meet someone, but they have to accept that I’m still a married man.”
“Yeah. Probably not the greatest catchphrase,” he admitted, then sat himself upright. “Look. Do we get food around here?”
“I think so, but we still have to set up our safe words before we go outside again. I need to know I have an out.”
“Safe words?”
“Safe words, Peter. I say a word, and you drag me off and rescue me from whatever situation I’ve got myself into.”
He laughed, and the relief that he did? I was still treading on thin ice here, trying to figure out how to navigate this new…weird…friendship. Not to say too little. Definitely not say too much. Not be too much…me.