Chapter 2
Jamie had once had scarlet fever as a child. All he remembered was the feeling of having a ridiculously high fever and not really being in control of his own brain.
That’s how he felt sitting across from Caleb Reed.
It was like one second, he had biked to meet Ellie at the pub, and the next, he was sitting across from some kind of Greek god. And then the Greek god was nudging his foot and asking him to…
Well, he wasn’t sure what Caleb was asking him to do.
But Jamie knew he wanted to do it. Even if he didn’t know what it was.
Okay, he kind of did. He’d been with a few men over the last few months, because Ellie and her friends seemed determined to drag him to every gay club in London and get him some experience flirting and hooking up with guys.
In Ellie’s words, he had a lot of catching up to do.
Just last week, they took him to Glitter, which ended with a very sloppy, somewhat uncomfortable blowjob in the loo that had left Jamie feeling unsatisfied and kind of grimy.
It was disappointing, because he could finally admit to himself that he liked men, and only men, but so far, he’d really not enjoyed the gay clubbing culture in this city.
“Is that your roommate?” Caleb asked, nodding toward Ellie as she pranced away with the Chelsea women.
Yep, and my ex, who made me realize I was gay, which, by the way, was just a few months ago, so… in regards to sex, I know nothing. But if you need help finding an old manuscript in the British Library, I’m your guy!
He blinked at Caleb. “Sort of, yes,” Jamie replied.
“How long is your bike ride home from here?”
“If I bike fast, probably about thirty minutes,” Jamie said. “Our flat is in Islington. Do you—erm, are you close by?”
He was trying so hard to sound cool, which probably meant he was being a dumbarse. He hadn’t gotten to this step with anyone yet—going home with them.
It felt like kind of a big deal.
“I live very close,” Caleb said as his thigh bumped up against Jamie’s under the table. “If you want, we can go back to my place. I think I have some N.A. beer in my fridge.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jamie wasn’t opposed to alcohol, but he rode his bike everywhere, so it was rare that he drank. “That would be cool.”
Caleb’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded like damn, you’re cute, before sipping the rest of his drink and standing. “Let me close out my tab, say goodbye to the team, and we can go back to my place, ‘kay?”
The words my place sent a shot of arousal up Jamie’s spine, and now his whole body felt hot. As Caleb walked over to the barkeep, Jamie blew a breath out, puffing up his cheeks in an attempt to cool down his overheating body.
His eyes, on their very own accord, followed Caleb the entire journey to the bar, and then slid down his body as he leaned over and handed a credit card to the woman serving.
A charming smile spread over Caleb’s handsome face, and the barkeep definitely blushed as she plucked the card from his hand and brought him his check.
Bloody hell, the man was… dazzling.
The confidence in his posture turned every head as he politely eased around people. He wore a simple Chelsea T-shirt that hugged the lean muscles of his arms. And, fuck, his hands…
Jamie wanted to be thrown around by those hands.
Was that what was going to happen tonight? He wasn’t sure. It would be very typical for Jamie to misread cues and end up, like, eating hummus on this man’s sofa.
Or, more likely, Caleb was looking for a quick blowjob, and then Jamie would probably have to bike home with a raging boner.
He drained the rest of his drink and set it down on the table.
Caleb didn’t seem like an arsehole; he was definitely interested in something happening. Why else did a beautiful, extremely fit man call you cute and ask you to go to his flat? Sex, right?
“Wow, I leave you alone for one second, and you’re in another universe.”
Jamie’s head shot up to see Caleb standing over him with a big, toothy grin.
“Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yeah.” Caleb nodded to the door. “Ready to go?”
Another zap of arousal thrummed Jamie’s blood as Caleb led him out the door with a hand on his low back. His legs felt like jelly now. They walked down the street in silence, the only sounds the soft creak of his bike wheels and the clunk of his helmet knocking against the frame.
Jamie’s thoughts, on the other hand, were deafening, and it was a definite possibility that Caleb could hear the racket in his head.
He ought to say something. Anything. Maybe ask about America? He’d never been there, but he did watch a documentary on serial killers in Chicago, but he probably shouldn’t bring that up.
Perhaps he could inquire about the athletic trainer bit, though his knowledge of sports began and ended with cycling.
Would asking about Caleb’s family be weird? Too intimate for what was, realistically, a one-night stand?
Most blokes he’d met in London didn’t really want to chat, at least not properly. It was sort of just a gateway to the blowjob or handjob. Whenever he tried, he usually got laughed off or brushed aside.
A shiver ran through him at the memory from last week—the bloke who’d mocked his bike helmet and then propositioned him. He’d at least said no to that guy.
The club scene had required a lot of dancing, which Jamie was dreadful at, and sweaty, sloppy snogs that tasted of cheap alcohol and bad decision making.
Kissing was nice but… wouldn’t it be nice to talk, too?
If he could just think of something remotely clever to say.
“It’s just a few more blocks that way.”
Caleb’s deep voice pulled Jamie from his overthinking. His big body had drifted closer and, every few steps, Jamie felt the heat of his arm brush against his own.
The closer they got to Caleb’s flat, the more Jamie started to panic. His palms were sweaty, and he realized, like an idiot, that this was probably a huge mistake.
“I think you can lock your bike there,” Caleb said, indicating a bike rack outside a fancy, very modern-style building.
“You live here?” Jamie gazed up at the luxury flats in awe.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on taking you to someone else’s apartment tonight.” Caleb smirked, and all Jamie could think about was that serial killer documentary.
Caleb’s smile fell quickly off his face, and he added, “Uh, yeah. Of course I live here.”
“Er, right. I’ll just…” Jamie clumsily locked up his bike, tucking his helmet under his arm, and followed Caleb into the building. Holding the door open, Caleb ushered Jamie through and led him to the twelfth floor.
Too busy in his own internal panic, Jamie hadn’t really thought about what Caleb’s flat would look like. He certainly didn’t expect to be ushered into the nicest bloody flat he’d ever stepped foot in—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, all with modern and elegant finishes.
Across the living room, two white doors led out to a balcony. As Jamie walked over and peered through, he could see the lights from some bars in Soho. Jamie imagined Caleb sitting out there in the morning, enjoying his coffee.
“Make yourself at home,” Caleb said as he plunked his keys into a bowl by the door and swept into the kitchen. He heard the clink of two glasses being pulled out and filled what he assumed was beer.
Jamie floated over to the bookshelves, eyes immediately scanning the titles, letting the activity eat away his nerves. Jamie loved books and, if nothing else, maybe that could be his gateway into conversation.
He noticed the collection was large and a bit chaotic. The overwhelming urge to start sorting them alphabetically struck him hard, so shoved his hands into his trouser pockets to stop himself from being rude.
On the lowest shelf sat a sleek, gold record player. It looked new and modern, definitely not vintage. Jamie squinted at the books on the bottom shelf, propped up against it.
“Is this the Heinemann African Writers Series?”
“Oh, yeah. My mom is a big reader,” Caleb said, walking over and handing Jamie a beer. “When she moved back to Texas, she needed someone to take them. Otherwise, I think they would’ve ended up at the thrift shop or something.”
He leaned down and pressed a button on the fancy record player, and a few lights blinked to life. With a beep beep and a few clicks on his phone, a soft, electronic melody came floating out of it.
Jamie went back to scanning the book titles. “This is brilliant.”
Caleb snorted. “Don’t you work at a library? I’d think my collection would feel pretty lame in comparison.”
“Well, sure,” Jamie said, blinking at a row of thick hardcovers. He itched to touch all of them. “But I’ve never seen a personal library so… enormous. Have you read any of them?”
Caleb flashed a cocky smile that had Jamie’s insides turning to mush. “Some.”
“Let me guess.” Jamie brought a finger to his lips. He could practically hear Ellie in his ear, urging him to actually flirt with Caleb.
“Your section is here.” He pointed to the few science fiction novels he recognized. Sporty men usually liked science fiction.
“I have read those, yes. And others.”
Before Jamie could ask Caleb which books he’d actually read, something in the background clicked into focus. The lyrics of the song registered, and he froze. “Wait, is this The Foundations?”
“Yes.” Caleb smiled. “Well, no. But, it’s a lo-fi cover of their original.”
Jamie nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. He thought about how often he played the original at work, and how Jean-Baptiste would mock his “Oldies 50s & 60s” playlist.
“I like it.” He glanced around the rest of the flat. “I guess you’re planning to stay in London for a while, yeah?”
“Not sure, why?” Caleb asked.
Jamie opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure if he was already talking too much. Maybe he should just kiss him and stop talking about the random shit in his brain.
“Oh, just…” He gestured vaguely toward the bookshelves. “You seem settled, is all. I know if I were moving to the States for just a bit, I probably wouldn’t bring everything I own.”