Chapter Seven Si
Present day
When Si got back to the living room, mugs of tea in hand, Zig was relaxing on the sofa in that easy, familiar sprawl that made him look all legs.
“Cheers, mate,” Zig said as Si handed him his tea.
Si perched on the other end of the sofa. “So what have you been up to, then, for the last . . . Blimey, has it been five years? Six?” He rubbed his nose. Five years, eleven months, but you’re the only bugger who’s been counting. Zig was never in as deep. Gotta remember that.
“Oh, this and that,” Zig said easily enough, exactly like he always used to,’cept his eyes slid away to the side. Course, maybe they’d done that way back when and all, but Si had been too bloody na?ve—and horny, don’t forget that—to see it. “Six, anyway.”
Si blinked. “You what?”
“Six years, near as. You left right after New Year. Couple of weeks after me eighteenth.” This time, Zig’s gaze met Si’s, and it was Si who looked away.
Those eyes of Zig’s hadn’t got any less intense, had they? “Right. Right. Long time ago, now. We’ve all passed a lot of water since then, as the saying goes.” It didn’t mean anything. Si had to remember that. Just cos Zig had kept track . . .
Zig laughed. “Can see you’ve been spending some time in the gym. Or did you give up hauling bricks around so you could get into the lumberjack business?” He looked at Si appreciatively.
Thank all the gods that blushes don’t show through beards. “I’m a locksmith, these days. Got me certification and everything. There’s jobs where a bit of muscle comes in handy. You working at the mo?” Si did his best, but he couldn’t help it coming out like a challenge.
“Been doing bar work.” Zig’s face turned serious. “Me and my dad had a bust-up. Haven’t been working for him for years now.”
That was a relief. That was a bloody relief and a half. While it made his heart do weird flips in his chest to see Zig again, Si hadn’t been able to stop the little voice in his head whispering that where Zig went, trouble followed.
“Sorry you and your old man are on the outs,” he said awkwardly, seeing as it was a lie.
Zig barked a laugh. “No, you ain’t. And I’m not, either, so you don’t need to pretend. So this locksmithing, what made you go for that? Always fancied learning how to crack a safe, did you?”
Si shrugged. “Oi, you, no taking the piss. Like doing stuff with me hands, don’t I? And if there’s one thing you learn hauling bricks around, it’s that you don’t get nowhere without a proper trade and qualifications and that.”
“Yeah, you got that right.” Zig’s smile was crooked.
Ah, shit. “But bar work, that’s steady,” Si said quickly. “Folks are always gonna want a drink.”
“You ain’t wrong there.” Zig’s face darkened. “Nah, I know it’s going nowhere. Missed me chance, though, ain’t I? Who wants a twenty-five-year-old apprentice?” He grinned, suddenly. “Anyhow, forget all that depressing bollocks. What do you do for fun around here?”
Same old Zig. “If it’s nightlife you’re after, well, mostly it’s just pubs.
” Si racked his brains. What the hell was there in Glastonbury that Zig would call fun?
The teenaged Zig he’d known back in London wouldn’t have been impressed by anything Si could think of.
“The Prince of Wales has got an open mic night tomorrow. And a band on Friday. If, you know, you’re planning to be around that long. ”
Si’s heart clenched. How long was Zig planning to stay? How long would it take him to change his mind when he found out how quiet Glastonbury was in the middle of winter, especially compared to London?
“Sounds good. Hey, reckon they’d be hiring?”
Si blinked. That sounded like . . . Nope. Best not read too much into it. “We can always ask. You, uh, you wanna head on down there tonight?”
“Nah. I’m beat. Come all the way from London, ain’t I? It’s getting late, anyway, and I’m guessing you’ve got work tomorrow. Quiet night in, that’ll do me.” Zig gave that smile that’d always melted Si’s insides like a blowtorch to the heart.
Si coughed. “Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll look out the spare duvet, then.
You’ll be all right on the sofa?” Heat rose in his face.
Should he have offered Zig the bed? Except, if he’d done that, what if Zig insisted it was big enough to share?
If there was one thing Si couldn’t handle, it was sleeping next to the bloke he’d lost his heart to.
Knowing Zig—if Si still did know him, that was—it wouldn’t end at sleeping, neither.
Or would it? Just cos he fancied you six years ago don’t mean he does now. And why did that thought hurt so much?
“Cheers, mate. Sofa’s cool.” Zig patted a cushion. “I wasn’t expecting you to roll out the red carpet when I turn up out of nowhere after all this time.”
Si couldn’t let that stand. Even if it was sorta true. Why the hells had Zig turned up? Why here? Why now? Seemed kind of rude to ask. Like he didn’t want Zig here. “You know it’s good to see you, don’t you?” he said awkwardly. “Looking so well, and all.”
Zig gazed at him, the intensity a bit more than Si could handle. “You too, mate. You too.”
Gods, that tone, and those eyes . . . Si had to look away. It don’t mean anything. You know that. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get you sorted, then.” He hurried away.
Si turfed out his summer-weight duvet from the under-bed storage, gave it a shake to evict any dust bunnies that might’ve burrowed in, and wrestled it into a clean duvet cover. Then he added a couple of blankets so Zig wouldn’t freeze when the heating went off overnight.
He took a mo to steady himself, then carried the bundle into the living room. “This all right for you?”
Zig was crouching by the telly, eyeing up Si’s DVD collection. “See you got into antiques.” He held up a Doctor Who boxset starring Jon Pertwee.
“Oi, that’s a classic, that is.”
“Did I say it ain’t? Have you got more recent ones too? The ones with Jodie Whatsherface? I didn’t get to see them.” Zig’s tone was weirdly bitter.
Maybe he’d been with a bloke who hadn’t liked the show?
Come to think of it, since when had Zig liked the show? He’d used to laugh at Si being so into it, seeing as it was supposed to be a kids’ show. Si stroked his beard. “Yeah, I got ’em all. Over on the right there. Didn’t think you was into sci-fi.”
Zig straightened and shrugged. “Eh. People change, don’t they? You used to go on about it so much, I thought I’d give it a go.”
Despite himself, warmth spread through Si’s chest. “Wanna watch the first Jodie episode, then? She proper cracked it.”
Zig threw himself onto the sofa and leaned back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked relaxed, and happy, and not at all like he belonged there. “Line it up, mate.”
Si grabbed the remote and switched on BBC iPlayer.
Who’d have ever thought he’d be doing this with Zig, back when they were teenagers in London?