Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Matt had begun to notice another change.
Owen no longer asked when he was coming over.
It was such a small thing that Matt almost felt foolish for noticing it.
There had been a time when Owen would send a message in the middle of the afternoon—Fancy a coffee?
or You finished for the day?—and somehow a casual invitation would turn into several hours together.
A coffee became a film. A film became dinner.
Dinner became another drink, another conversation, another excuse not to leave yet.
Those invitations had stopped.
Owen still answered when Matt texted him. He still welcomed him when he arrived. If Matt suggested doing something, Owen never said no.
But he no longer made the first move.
On Saturday morning, Matt finished another section of his dissertation and found himself staring at his phone.
He could go to Owen’s.
The thought came so naturally that he almost acted on it before stopping himself.
He picked up his phone and opened Owen’s contact.
What are you doing today?
He stared at it, then deleted.
Fancy some company?
That sounded needy. Deleted.
Eventually he sent the safest message he could think of.
How’s your morning?
Owen replied almost immediately.
Good. Getting a few things sorted around the house. You?
Matt stared at the words. There was nothing wrong with them. Nothing at all.
He typed that he’d been working on the dissertation and Owen replied with Nearly there. A thumbs up followed it.
Matt smiled. He waited for the next message.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
No come over. No fancy a coffee.
No casual suggestion that Matt might as well take a break and come and see him.
He put the phone down. He told himself Owen was busy. That was reasonable. Owen had a house to finish organising and a housewarming coming up. He was allowed to have a life that didn’t revolve around Matt.
Except Owen had never seemed interested in keeping those lives separate before.
That afternoon, Matt went into town instead.
He wandered through the shops without buying anything, stopped for coffee, and eventually found himself sitting on a bench overlooking the river with his phone beside him. He kept checking it.
Nothing.
The annoying part was that he wasn’t even angry.
He missed Owen, that was all. He missed the ease of being with him. The way a few hours together had once seemed to happen without either of them having to arrange them. He missed being wanted without having to ask.
Perhaps that was what was beginning to bother him most.
He’d spent the whole summer telling himself not to expect anything from Owen. He’d known the arrangement. He’d accepted it. He’d even convinced himself he was good at accepting it.
Then the island had happened.
Matt had allowed himself to believe that perhaps something had changed. That perhaps this wasn’t going to end just because the summer did.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes.
Maybe I misunderstood.
The thought settled heavily inside him.
Maybe the island had changed everything for Matt because Matt had already been in love with him, while for Owen it had been another beautiful weekend they would remember.
The pain of that possibility surprised him.
Because if it was true, then nothing had changed at all.
Owen hadn’t moved closer—Matt had.
And perhaps he’d been so busy hoping Owen was coming with him that he’d failed to notice he was the only one still moving.
Matt called Eric on Sunday evening.
“Hey. Is everything still good for next weekend?”
Eric laughed. “Will you stop worrying? Nothing’s changed. You can still stay. Unless you’ve decided my sofa isn’t good enough for you anymore. I mean, the Savoy, it isn’t.”
“Ooh, I don’t know. I’ve become accustomed to luxury.”
“You’re coming up on the Saturday, right? Staying two nights with us, then heading home on Monday after delivering the precious, precious document?”
“Precisely.”
“You’ve got the right idea. You don’t want to spend more time in Edinburgh than you have to. You know how mad it gets during the Fringe.”
They talked for a few minutes about what time Matt expected to arrive in Stirling and whether Eric had any plans while he was there.
A few days away. A clean break between one thing and whatever came next.
Matt didn’t know what next meant yet. He didn’t know what was going to happen with Owen.
That was the problem.
When he’d first booked the trip, he’d assumed returning to Edinburgh would be something to look forward to. He’d stay with Eric, celebrate, hand in the dissertation, then come home with the whole summer behind him.
Now he wasn’t sure what he was coming home to, or whether Owen would still be part of it.
“You’ve gone quiet.”
Matt blinked. “Sorry.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah.” He forced a laugh. “I’m just tired. Everything’s fine.”
There was a pause.
Eric hummed softly, the sound suggesting he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push.
“I’ll meet you at the station on Saturday.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Eric chuckled. “So is Garth. He’s been experimenting with curry and he wants a new victi—I mean volunteer, to try his results.”
Matt laughed. “Maybe I’d better make sure I pack the antacids.”
“Probably wise.”
They said their goodbyes and Matt ended the call. For a while he sat there, the phone resting in his hand.
Everything’s fine.
He’d said it so easily.
It reminded him of a line from one of his favourite films, A Room with a View. There was something almost absurd about the ease with which people could lie when the truth was too uncomfortable to say aloud.
He gazed at his phone.
He’d told Dad everything was fine. He’d just told Eric the same thing.
Neither was true, not anymore.
The uncomfortable part was that Matt wasn’t even sure he was lying to them.
Maybe he was lying to himself.
“Either take something out or shut the door.”
Matt snapped back into the moment. Dad stood next to him, arms folded.
“You’ve been standing there with the fridge door open for at least two minutes.” He leaned against the worktop. “Where exactly is your head right now?”
Matt huffed. “Where do you think?”
“Ooh, don’t ask questions like that. The answer might not be what you expect. Do I take it you’ve finished? As in, finished finished?”
“I think so.”
Dad narrowed his gaze. “That sounds suspiciously like someone who’s about to spend the next three days finding things wrong with it.”
Matt laughed. “Probably.” He’d actually spend the next three days reading through it one last time, changing things that didn’t need changing, and convincing himself each tiny alteration brought him closer to perfection.
“Have you got everything arranged for the trip on Saturday?”
“Yeah. I spoke with Eric two days ago.”
“Good.” There was a pause. “And the garden?”
Matt closed the fridge. “Pretty much done. There’s always something else you could do, but…” He shrugged. “The job’s reached its natural end.”
His dad studied him in silence for a moment.
Matt stilled. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve got that face again.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re pretending you’re not asking a question.”
Dad cocked his head. “I was just wondering whether you’ll miss it.”
Matt stared at the worktop. “Yeah.” He picked up a tea towel and began folding it even though it didn’t need folding. “I mean, I’ll miss the garden. And the house. And…” He stopped.
“And Owen?”
Matt swallowed. “Yeah.”
His father didn’t say anything, and somehow that made it easier to continue.
“I didn’t realise how much I’d got used to being there.”
Dad nodded. “You spent a lot of time there.”
“I know.” Matt chuckled. “It was supposed to be a summer job.”
“Which it was.”
“Yeah.” He stared at the folded tea towel. “It just became more than that.”
“Sounds like it.”
Matt glanced up to see Dad’s affectionate expression, and for one brief moment, he thought about telling him everything. About how he’d thought, for a little while, that maybe he’d finally found something worth holding on to.
Instead, he looked away. “I suppose it was always going to end.”
Dad was quiet. “Jobs do.”
“Exactly.” He put the tea towel down. “When I get back from Edinburgh, I’d better start looking for a real job.”
Dad nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”
Matt nodded too.
It was sensible. Practical. The sort of plan he’d have made before Owen had somehow become part of the shape of his summer, before he’d started allowing himself to imagine that when the dissertation was finished and the garden was done, there might still be a reason to go back.
Before he’d caught himself thinking about next summer.
He pushed the thought down before it could take hold.
The summer was almost over.
Perhaps it was time to start acting like it.
The housewarming party was only two days away, and Matt had stopped searching for excuses to go to Owen’s.
The garden was finished, and they both knew it.
Owen had thanked him more than once, and when Matt had joked that he was sure there was still plenty of work left, Owen had laughed and told him he was going to have to find another excuse to spend his afternoons drinking coffee.
It had been said in a light tone. Matt had laughed too.
He hated the way their conversations had become a little more careful, as though Owen had started measuring every word before he allowed it out.
And as for the kisses…
That was the hardest part. The kisses had changed.
They were brief now, a kiss against his cheek before Owen turned away, or a brush of lips against his temple when Matt was leaving. Once, a soft kiss to the top of his head that might have been nothing more than affection between two people who had grown close.
Never his mouth.
Never the lingering kisses that had once left Matt breathless and wanting more.
And that hurt more than if Owen had simply stopped touching him altogether.
Owen wasn’t rejecting him, not really. He was still giving Matt affection, still letting him know he mattered, just not in the way Matt wanted him to.