Chapter 10 #4
The video ended, and Leo sucked in a sharp breath. He’d held onto the countertop at some point, realised only now that his grip was white-knuckled and slowly eased it, set his glass down carefully.
“Gotta hand it to the kid,” some bloke remarked. “He’s got balls.”
Leo glanced over his shoulder to identify the speaker as a balding guy in his late forties, unbuttoned plaid shirt over a dirty white top. He’d addressed a bloke about his age, similar attire, and the second bloke scoffed. “Well. Certainly got practice handling balls, if you know what I mean.”
“Can’t say I give a fuck what the Prince does in his spare time. Or who.” The original speaker raised his beer in a toast. “Only thing I care about is us sticking it to Uruguay. Sticking it good.”
“Hear, hear,” the second one said, and Leo turned away.
His heart felt too full for his chest, ready to burst, so many words on the very tip of his tongue.
He wanted to butt in and tell those blokes just how lovely Joshua was, how clever and genuine; can’t blame me for falling head over heels.
Instead, Leo tugged out his phone and called up a message.
So in love with you.
His finger hovered over the send button.
Then he exhaled around all those words lodged in his throat and erased his text, letter by letter. He replaced it with
I’m so so proud of you.
He erased that too and switched off his phone. Taking a big gulp of his beer, he waited for Nate to join him.
England lost to Uruguay. Their chances of making it past the group stage were close to none.
Leo hardly even cared.
People had scattered quickly after the match.
When Leo and Nate stepped out onto the street they found it dark and deserted, quiet once the pub door shut behind them.
Leo shivered in the cool breeze, and Nate shifted closer.
After a moment’s consideration, Leo slung an arm around his waist and burrowed into his side.
“Hey,” Nate said. Even though his voice was low, it carried in the silent night. “You wanna kip at mine? Saves you from having to share the tube with all the people getting back drunk from the game.”
God, yes—a chance for Leo to avoid his flat that somehow, after four days, still carried traces of Joshua’s cologne. He could go straight to work tomorrow, change into the set of fresh clothes he kept at the office.
“That’d be great,” he told Nate. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
Together they set off for Nate’s flat. For all that it wasn’t particularly late, just past ten, the city was remarkably quiet around them, like in the aftermath of a catastrophe.
Leo supposed that things looked different in the usual centres of activity, where tourists came and went at all hours and rowdy groups were likely drinking away the disappointment of the match.
But here, now, it was easy to imagine that the world had slowed down for a little while, maybe just long enough that he could catch his breath.
They’d been walking in companionable silence for a couple of minutes when Nate spoke again.
“Just so you know, mate… Joshua’s leaving tomorrow with Mo and Tristan.
Promised Mo I’d see him off at the airport, and I thought—the neighbour’s lending me her car.
I thought maybe you’d like another chance to talk to Joshua. You could drive us both?”
Leo’s ridiculous heart skipped a beat. He kept his voice steady. “She’s lending you her car? Do you even have a license?”
“I just don’t like driving.” Nate sounded uncomfortable. “It’s nothing like… Not like a trauma or anything, but it kind of reminds me of stuff, so I avoid it if I can.”
Stuff, it reminded Nate of stuff. Leo wanted to ask, only it would have meant giving up a few secrets of his own in turn. He thought that by now he’d be fine with that. Probably. Just… not tonight. Not when Joshua’s face on the screen was still too fresh in his memory.
You don’t have to fit the norm to belong.
“I’ve noticed,” Leo said eventually. “So that’d be tomorrow morning, then?”
“Yeah, flight leaves at eight. But you don’t have to,” Nate rushed to add. “You can stay over either way, but I thought—or you can stay in the car, if you prefer. Avoid Joshua.”
It would be Leo’s last chance to see Joshua in person for a whole two weeks. Or longer, much longer, depending on how soon there’d be a reason for them to meet once Joshua was back. At this point, their only connection was through Nate and Mo.
Leo should let it go.
“I can drive,” he said. “I’m not sure yet whether I’ll want to see Joshua, but… Yeah, I can definitely drive. Seeing Mo off at the airport, though—bit cheesy, isn’t it? In a teeth-rotting, sweet kind of way. Does that mean you’re official now?”
“Sort of?” Nate put his arm around Leo’s shoulder, tone hesitant. “It’s not like—we haven’t really talked about it. Part of why I want to see him, if I’m honest. Need to make sure I’m not making this into more than it is.”
Giving Nate’s waist a squeeze, Leo smiled at him. “No, I’m quite certain you’re perfectly fine. Actually, you know, there’s this thing that Joshua…”—Leo swallowed—“Joshua mentioned that Mo doesn’t do jealousy. Maybe you should put that theory to the test.”
Nate was kind enough not to remark on the way Leo’s voice had gone soft and wistful on Joshua’s name. Instead, he shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t want to play mind games really.”
“That’s noble of you.”
“I’m learning.” Nate bumped their hips together. “It’s a bit of an inspiration, isn’t it, the way those three are so open with each other? Like there’s nothing to be scared of, like it’s okay to let someone else see everything. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.” Leo inhaled on a deep breath, felt the night swell around him. “Sorry I kept you away from him tonight. I’m sure he’d have liked you to watch the game with him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nate said firmly. “Like I’d let you suffer through this alone. I’m not going to let some relationship come between me and my best mate, yeah?”
Leo loved him vigorously.
“You’re a sap,” he announced.
Nate snorted and tightened his hold. “Love you too, man.”
* * *
“Stop fretting,” Tristan ordered. “He said he’ll be here, and he won’t be here sooner if you wear out your watch.”
“Can you wear out your watch by checking it excessively?” Joshua asked.
Mo rewarded both of them with an unimpressed look and absently fluffed a cashmere pillow into shape. Their private lounge in Heathrow’s Windsor Suite was flooded with light, empty apart from the three of them, Zach standing guard outside the door and waiting for their passports to return stamped.
“What if he didn’t get my directions?” Mo frowned.
“Fuck’s sake, Mo. This is Nate.” Tristan helped himself to a biscuit and continued while chewing. “He’d probably mapped all emergency exits and alternate routes before you even sent him an access plan.”
That served to relax Mo, and Joshua let himself relax along with him. They had about fifty minutes until take-off, at least thirty before they’d be taken through private security and straight to the aircraft. Two weeks away from London, away from this country, away from everything. Thank God.
A gentle knock on the door had Mo whip his head around. The lounge’s manager entered a moment later, splendid in her red dress, a practised smile on her face. “Excuse me, Sirs. A Mr Nate Biggs and a Mr Leo Graham are here to see you?”
Joshua felt himself stiffen, his stomach dropping.
Leo. What was he doing here? Why was he here? And how had he even—did he have a fake ID that withstood scrutiny? He probably did; if James was on Leo’s side, these things weren’t done halfway.
Why was he here?
He’d probably come with Nate. But then he could have waited outside, right?
“Show them in, please,” Tristan said before Joshua had a chance to process the idea of seeing Leo again. Before he had a chance to compose himself and school his features into something reasonably calm.
* * *
So there was an extra-special VIP lounge for the top of the crop, all marble floors and plush carpets and a number of private lounges, perfectly removed from the travelling public. Leo couldn’t say he was surprised, but the exclusive surroundings didn’t help in settling his pulse.
“You okay?” Nate whispered.
“Define ‘okay’,” Leo replied, equally low, although he doubted it escaped the notice of the woman who’d introduced herself as the manager of this particular slice of subtle extravagance.
He should have waited in the car. Fuck, it must have been a bout of temporary insanity that had prompted him to follow Nate for no reason other than a vague need to see Joshua again, just one more time before Leo would force himself to let it go.
Right. Because torturing himself with what he couldn’t have was clearly how he rolled.
“Okay as in—” Nate cut himself off when they found themselves face to face with Zach. Subtly, Leo tried to shift behind Nate.
Leo could still turn around and run. Except for how Joshua must have been told that Leo was here, so it would be the act of a coward. Not that Leo was on the fast track to winning an award for bravery as it was, but—Jesus, fuck everything.
He entered behind Nate and kept his gaze on the floor, stopping just inside the room as he mumbled a greeting. With a squeeze of Leo’s shoulder, Nate moved towards Mo. Only when he was gone did Leo glance up.
Joshua was staring at him, eyes wide. Leo stared back.
Dressed in comfortable clothes, light streaming in through the window behind him, Joshua was the loveliest thing Leo had ever seen.
Curls licked at his temples, and even from across the room Leo could make out the clear green of his eyes, no longer lost in digital translation.
Vaguely, Leo was aware that Tristan was there as well, that Mo and Nate were talking, but his focus had narrowed to Joshua rising from his armchair, still staring at Leo.