Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
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CALUM
Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if, by chance, I’d strolled into the pharmacy where Johnny works before we met. The location is a couple of suburbs in the wrong direction from where I live, so the chances were low, but it could have happened.
Would I have been smitten with him the moment he advised me on cold and flu tablets or the benefits of some random vitamin supplement?
Or would I simply have noted his good looks with a lingering once-over before walking away?
I’ll never know how such a meeting would have played out, but now I do know him, I can say one thing for sure: Johnny Durant looks hot as fuck wearing his crisp, white pharmacist’s coat.
When he called me an hour ago to see if I could give him a lift from work to rehearsal, I jumped at the chance.
I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get a sneak peek into the other half of his life.
I made sure to get here a few minutes early, so I’d be able to scope out the inside of his workplace.
The automatic doors slide closed behind me, cutting off the sweltering heat of late February and enveloping me in blessed air conditioning.
Johnny is behind the rear counter; his gaze focused on whatever script he’s filling back there.
I wander into the maze of shelves, trying not to be obvious as I sneak glances over the top of them.
“Good afternoon.” A young woman stands beside me, with a crisp blue uniform and bright smile. “Can I help you find something?”
“No, thank you,” I say, returning her smile. “I’m here to pick up Johnny.”
Confusion clouds her features. “Johnny?”
Now we’re both confused. Lifting a hand, I gesture to the counter, where the man in question is now talking to an elderly woman. “Durant,” I add.
“Oh, you mean John.” Her face brightens in understanding.
Mine doesn’t. “Yes.” I nod, belatedly. “I mean John.”
“No problem. I’m sure he won’t be long.” She walks back to the counter, leaning in to say a few words to Johnny. He looks my way and the smile lighting up his face sets my heart to thumping. Lifting a hand, his fingers splayed, he mouths the words, “Five minutes.”
At my nod, he returns his attention to his customer, and I go back to wandering between the shelves.
These last couple of months have been good for me and Johnny.
They’ve given us the chance to learn how to relax around each other.
We’ve spent time together without the band a couple of times a week.
On the days we don’t see each other, we’re constantly on our phones, talking or texting.
The need to keep things platonic forces us to get out and about when we’re together, and damn we’ve had fun.
We’ve seen live bands play all over Brisbane, gone to the movies, had dinner at all of each other’s favourite places.
I’d call it dating, if it weren’t for the total absence of sexual contact.
Brushing up against each other too often at a concert doesn’t count.
Neither do the goodnight hugs that sometimes last a longer-than-friendly amount of time.
If our conversations have deepened, interspersed with long minutes of simply being there, listening to each other breathe, it’s nothing to be concerned about.
Yeah, denial has become an active third in this new relationship we’ve forged. What other choice do I have? I can’t stop seeing him professionally. I don’t want to stop seeing him personally. And I definitely can’t tell him the truth I’m no longer able to hide from myself.
I’m in love with him.
Not just a little bit in love, like I confessed in that lust-fuelled moment we shared at the studio a few months ago.
This is a bone deep, soul defining, this-lifetime-and-the-next kind of love I didn’t think I was capable of.
Every time I’m with him, it only grows stronger.
I have no idea what to do with that. All I know is, this ‘more than friends but not quite lovers’ relationship we’ve managed to build out of the ashes of our doomed romance is better than whatever toxic bullshit we were doing before.
I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose him.
Movement on my left alerts me to his arrival. “If you’re having an issue with foot fungus, I can recommend some excellent products.”
I blink at him in confusion. He gestures to the shelf before me. Apparently, I’ve spent the entire five minutes ruminating in the foot care aisle.
Turning, I give him a bright smile. “Thanks so much for your help, John.”
He grimaces at the emphasis I put on his name. “It’s what my parents call me. My boss is an old family friend so…” He shrugs off the explanation, his gaze falling away. “Shall we head out?”
I nod, and before long we’re on the road.
“Thanks for picking me up,” he says, running his hands through his hair as if freeing himself from the restraints of his day job. “I wasn’t expecting the mechanic to keep my car overnight.”
“No problem,” I tell him. “You’ll get it back tomorrow?” He nods.
We’re quiet for a few minutes, an old Radiohead song playing low on the stereo.
“Can I say it was weird seeing you in there?” His voice is quiet, contemplative.
I glance in his direction. “Should I have not come in?”
“No, it’s not that,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s more like… my real life and my dream life have bumped into each other and now they’re giving side-eye, not quite sure how to act.”
We stop at a red light, and I turn to look at him. He appears, not upset exactly, more like uncomfortable.
“Just be you.” He turns to look at me, and I can see how torn he is over who that is. “This part of your life—the band, me—it’s no dream, Johnny. This is as real as anything else you do. You are never more real to me than when you’re on stage with a guitar in your hands.”
Gratitude fills his eyes, and his hand reaches across the console to touch my thigh for a moment. “Thank you.”
The light turns green and he removes his hand as we get moving again. “I’ll say this though,” I tell him in a playful tone, “I kind of liked getting a gander at John the pharmacist.”
He groans, messing up his hair some more. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not? John the pharmacist is hella sexy.”
“Ugh. John is the most generic name is existence. I’ll take Johnny any day over that boring arse name.”
“I’d take Johnny any day too, if I could.” The muttered words pop out before I can stop them.
His mouth drops open and he laughs suggestively. “Careful, Cal. Your libido is showing.”
Adjusting my position in my seat, I clear my throat. “My apologies.”
He continues watching me, a finger toying with his bottom lip. “Slip up all you like,” he drawls. “I store every one of them in my spank bank for later use.”
“Fuuuck,” I groan, my hands tightening on the wheel. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Then stop slipping up.”
“I’m trying,” I cry.
“Try harder.” He drags the last word out until the innuendo is unmistakable.
Barking out a rough laugh, I glare at him. “You’re an arsehole.”
“You started it.”
I heave a sigh as I pull into Gavin’s driveway. “And neither of us can finish it.”
“More’s the pity,” Johnny says quietly.
I park and kill the engine, but neither of us moves to get out of the car. “I can give you a ride home after…”
He shakes his head. “I’ve already asked Ned to drive me.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to…” He doesn’t need to finish the thought. We both know what could happen if we’re not careful. “But there’s a new band I heard about playing at a pub on the north side on Friday night. I thought we could go check them out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” A safe, public plan. My hands curl into fists as we finally move to get out of the car.