Chapter 12
. . .
Xavier
“Bye,” I say to Jez. “Hope the publishers are kind to you. Try to say please and thank you, and remember to look both ways before you cross the road.”
He rolls his eyes, and I want to laugh. I’m finding irritating Jez to be one of the bonuses of this trip. The other major bonus is currently standing on the other side of him, frowning at something on his phone.
We’re standing outside the hotel waiting for Jez’s cab to get here so he can go to London, and the lunchtime sun is hot on my face. I’m studiously trying to ignore Reuben, so I don’t get heart eyes in front of my father, but it’s so hard. He’s so lovely that it’s difficult not to stare.
He and Jez start to discuss something to do with Jez’s memoirs.
I’ve got to say I won’t be reading them.
These few days with my father have completely cured me of any interest in him.
Still, I’ve been nice, and the bonus is Reuben’s pleased look whenever I feign interest in the shit that Jez talks about.
Newsflash, it’s usually about himself, and he doesn’t require any input apart from admiring looks.
He should stick to his fan club for all his human interactions, making it easier for the rest of humanity.
I sneak a look at Reuben. His dark hair is lifting in the breeze, his grey eyes bright. He’s tall and lean, and I love the feeling of being smaller than him. Since I’m tall myself, I don’t typically have that experience with blokes.
He laughs, and I look at him curiously. He’s seemed easier somehow over the last few days which relieves me. He’s determined to carry the weight of the world for the people he cares about, and his PTSD isn’t making that any easier. I frown. And my father seems determined to ignore it.
In my opinion, my father also has an unhealthy connection to Reuben. He gets annoyed whenever he speaks to anyone or his attention is drawn away. It’s like he owns Reuben or something.
“Xavier?”
I jerk as I realise Reuben’s talking to me. “Eh?”
Reuben’s eyes twinkle. “I was just telling Jez that we’ll be fine without him on our final day here. Have you thought what you’d like to do?”
Well, I certainly do have a lot of thoughts, but I don’t think Daddy Dearest will approve of any of them. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure something will come up,” I murmur. I shoot Reuben a sultry look while Jez is bending to grab his suitcase and I want to laugh when he blanches.
The laughter is mingled with frustration.
I wish he didn’t care so much what Jez thinks.
I certainly don’t. I’m the result of an accidental bodily fluid exchange.
He wasn’t there for me when I was a kid.
He didn’t pick me up when I cried or soothe me after a nightmare.
He’s not my father and he never will be.
On top of that guilt, Reuben seems determined to paint me as some tormented virgin in his head, which is just laughable. In reality, I think it’s just another stick he can beat himself with. I’m not sure who he’s trying to live up to, but his role model wouldn’t be anyone whom I’d choose.
They walk to the car, and I traipse along behind them, admiring the swell of Reuben’s arse in his faded jeans.
He’s also kind, funny, and wise. I try to shove that aside, but it’s too true to be ignored.
No matter how I’ve tried to see him as just this hot older man, I can’t do it.
He’s become Reuben to me, and that’s something even more dangerous because Reuben seems to see me in a way that no one ever has in my life.
To him, I’m not a troublesome burden or an unwanted relative.
I’m Xavier to him, and I’ve never really dared to show that person to anyone before.
I spend my whole life trying to be seen and becoming what other people want.
Despite my efforts, I’m still dismissed as being too much.
My emotions are too big, and I’m too loud for other people’s tastes.
It’s not like that with Reuben. The sex is amazing, but equally strange and wonderful is the calm afterwards.
With my previous hookups, we’d be zipping up and fucking off as soon as we’d come, but Reuben isn’t like that.
Despite his complaints, he’s a cuddler, and we’ll lie together sharing a cigarette and talking late into the night, and I’ve treasured this more than I’ll ever tell him.
He listens to me, and despite the age gap, I never feel gauche.
Instead, his intense eyes make me feel fascinating.
And because he seems to like me, I’ve shown him more and more of the real me, sharing my hopes and dreams, and what I love and hate.
The fact that he remembers all of these details even after he’s come is mindboggling to me.
It also makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out with a blunt stick because I won’t see him after this week.
He’ll move on and probably won’t think of me again while I’ll forever associate the scent of sandalwood, sex and cigarette smoke with him, and something about that fucks me up inside because I know I won’t get this connection with anyone again.
He and Jez are leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow after the funeral.
Will I see him again? I probably would if Jez and I keep in touch, but that isn’t going to happen.
So, this is it. We’ve somehow carved out a moment in time for each other, which will never reoccur.
I’ll go back to my life and Reuben will firmly button himself back into the man I first met—closed off and on an island he keeps all to himself.
I kick a stone moodily and then paste a smile on my face when they turn around.
“See you tomorrow,” Jez says, sliding into the cab.
Reuben kindly pretends that Jez is talking to me, but we both know that if I were dressed in a tutu and doing cartwheels across the drive, Jez would still ignore me and focus on Reuben.
“I’ll come back to the hotel and get changed so we can go to the funeral together,” he adds.
Reuben and I stand together watching the car turn down the drive, and we stay there in silence long after it’s vanished. The rays of the sun paint his face red, making his grey eyes look like molten steel. Ridiculous. I’m beginning to sound like something from a romance story.
We only have this afternoon and the night, and I’m not wasting it.
I’m very aware I’ve invested way too much into what should’ve been a casual shag.
Casual doesn’t show up at Reuben’s room, desperate for his touch and hiding it with cheek and snark because it makes him smile.
Casual doesn’t wind himself around Reuben when the fucking’s over.
It doesn’t listen for Reuben’s voice and smile when he hears it.
“Alright?” he asks, rocking back on his heels. He’s wearing faded jeans and a sage-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show his tanned, corded forearms. He looks edible. I look him up and down slowly, enjoying his slightly panicked expression.
“No,” he says immediately.
I huff crossly. “I hate that word.”
His mouth quirks. “I’m sure you do, but if the world were a sensible place, you’d hear it every second for the rest of your life.”
I give him a playful pout. “So, what are we going to do in the long time before we have to entertain the manchild again?”
“Be nice,” he chides.
I’m not touching that with a bargepole. If I reply and say something about Jez, he’ll get defensive and try to persuade me to see his good qualities.
Even if I had a map, a compass, and thirty years of spare time, I couldn’t find those.
I don’t want to burst his bubble, though.
Reuben’s a seriously nice man, but Jez is a cunt.
Why can’t Reuben see it? The only people Jez is interested in are himself and Reuben.
“So what are we doing? Jez said I should pick my own entertainment.” I lick my lips. “And I’m looking at it.”
His eyes flare, and for a second, I think he’s going to grab me and kiss me, but sadly for me and my neglected dick, he does neither. Instead, he looks thoughtful.
“I would like to do something, and I need your help.”
I brighten. “Is it sexual?”
I watch him laugh, relishing how real he is, his head thrown back and the sound loud and lusty. I feel like I’ve won a prize or have done something irredeemably clever when I uncover his appetite for life. Not a feeling that I’ve experienced with someone else.
Finally, he sobers and looks at me. I shift position because it’s such an analytical look.
“I want to photograph you,” he declares.
My mouth drops open, and I stare at him.
The silence stretches, and then his lip quirks, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Wow. If I’d known it would silence you, I’d have asked a lot sooner.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“What an absolutely delightful expression. No, really. If I’d known this would be your reaction, I’d have asked on the first day. Maybe the first minute. It would have spared me a lot of torture.”
“No, I mean, you want to photograph me?” I point at myself in case he misses the emphasis. “Me?”
His eyes flare with amusement. Amusement and a little nervousness, and it’s the latter that stops my pisstaking. It makes me feel suddenly horribly tender.
“I would, actually. You’re very—” He pauses, and I wait for the usual compliments on my hair and body. “You’re so vivid and full of life,” he finishes. “Like sunshine on a cold day.”
I blink, and something soft and warm unfurls in a small spot under my ribs. Something fragile. The moment stretches for a few seconds. “Okay,” I finally say softly. “Yes, you can photograph me, Roo.”
His eyes twinkle. “Thank you, Xavi.”
We walk slowly inside, and even though there’s distance between our bodies, I feel so connected to him that surely it must shine out of me. Why can’t the other guests see it?
When we get to his room, he pauses outside the door, and it seems odd. Normally, we’d be rushing inside in case Jez sees us. I find I like not doing that.