Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Theo
The morning light came in cold and merciless.
I stood at the kitchen counter, pretending to read the day’s emails on my phone while I waited for the kettle to boil.
Cameron was in the bathroom.
Every sound in the flat felt too loud: the creak of floorboards, the scrape of a mug on the counter. Even the air seemed altered, heavy with memory. I told myself it was okay to draw a line, that control was a choice. Now every inch of the room reminded me the line had already been crossed.
I sat in the armchair, listening to the sounds from the bathroom. When Cameron finally emerged, barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, eyes downcast, my throat tightened.
“Morning.” Cameron clicked the kettle, then dropped a tea bag into a mug.
“There’s fresh coffee in the cafetiere if you want it.”
“Thanks, but I prefer tea this morning.”
That was it. No mention of the kiss, the way our bodies had fit, the sound Cameron had made before I’d stopped it, just tea, coffee, and the air thick with whatever it was neither of us was saying.
And it was killing me.
Say something. Anything. Tell him that kiss was the best thing to ever happen to you.
Which it was, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
I grabbed my laptop bag, muttering something about deadlines.
Cameron nodded, his expression unreadable. “It looks pretty awful out there this morning.”
Great. Now we’ve resorted to talking about the weather.
Outside, the wind buffeted me, pushing me along the road to the station. I walked until the rhythm of my steps slowed my breathing, until the memory of Cameron’s mouth stopped playing on a loop.
Except it didn’t stop—it only changed tempo.
I ducked into my usual café, then claimed my corner table. The plan had been to open the laptop and bury myself in work.
My phone claimed my attention, however. I stared at Max’s contact for several seconds before pressing Call.
The voice that answered was half amused, half irritated. “Do you know what time it is?”
I snorted. “Did we have a late night?”
“I don’t know about you, but I certainly did. So tell me why you’re calling. Because you never call me at this hour.”
I swallowed. “I might have done something stupid last night.”
There was a pause. “Okay. Have you committed murder? Are you in a police cell? Do I need to bring a cake with a file in it?”
Ordinarily, I would have appreciated Max’s humour, but not this morning.
“Or is it more the case that you did someone and are now regretting it?”
“Have I ever told you how much I hate it that you know me far too well?” I shut my eyes. “It’s Cameron.”
Max exhaled, long and low. “Ah. So the inevitable happened.”
“Not entirely.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I stopped it.”
“You… you stopped it?”
“Yes. We never got further than kissing.”
“And how did that feel, Saint Theo?”
I let out a quiet, strangled laugh. “Like I was setting myself on fire and pretending it was discipline.”
Another pause. “Was I right? You’re falling for him?”
“Wrong tense,” I muttered in a rueful tone.
“Ah. I see.”
“I—” I broke off. “He kissed me back as if he needed it like air. And I wanted it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Then why stop, for fuck’s sake?”
“Because wanting doesn’t make it right.”
“Maybe not,” Max said gently, “but it does make it real. You’re allowed to be real every once in a while, you know.”
I looked down at my trembling hands. “That’s what scares me.”
“Then it’s already working,” Max said. “Real things usually do.”
I didn’t answer.
“Judging by the sound of the coffee machine in the background, I take it you’re in a café?”
“Yeah.”
“Then my prescription is for you to get your arse back to the flat, rip his clothes off, and fuck his brains out. To be repeated at least three times a day.”
“I am so glad I didn’t have you on speaker.” I ended the call.
I sat there a long time, listening to the café’s quiet hum, trying to decide whether what I felt was guilt or relief.
Maybe both.
Cameron
The flat felt as if someone had turned the volume down on the world.
I sat cross-legged on the sofa, my sketchbook open on my lap. The graphite smudge from last night’s drawing had transferred to my palm. I rubbed at it absently, then turned to a clean page.
I didn’t want to draw. I wanted to remember.
What came out was not an image but words, uneven, messy, half confession, half promise.
I can still feel him. The way he pulled back like the touch itself scared him. The way he whispered “wait” as if he was saving us from something, not ending it.
I should be angry, but I’m not. I’m just full—of light, of ache, of wanting.
I paused, chewing the end of the pencil, then added:
This isn’t finished. I know it isn’t. Whatever he’s afraid of, I’ll wait him out. I’m not done wanting.
I stared at the words until they blurred. Then I closed the book, pressed it to my chest, and whispered to the quiet flat.
“You can’t scare me off, Theo.”
Outside, the rain had stopped. A single shaft of sunlight cut across the floor, glancing off the coffee mugs we’d both used that morning, two half-empty cups side by side, cooling slowly in the same light.
I sighed. I had prep to do for my tutorial the following day. Nora wanted me to confirm what my next major piece would be, and as yet I didn’t have a clue.
I need inspiration.
What I really needed was Theo.
Theo
I sat at my desk. In theory I was reading through rehearsal notes.
In practice, my mind was elsewhere. The silence sat like static under my skin.
The bathroom door opened, and Cameron came out, dressed in tight jeans and an open shirt over a tee, his hair pushed back off his face.
I averted my gaze, my eyes focused on the screen. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.” Cameron’s voice was steady. “I’m heading out for a bit.”
I looked up. “Where?”
“I’m meeting a friend. At Balan’s.” I gave him an inquiring glance, and Cameron continued. “Raquel, from high school. She’s studying for her Masters in London. I haven’t seen her since before I moved. She’s threatening to stage an intervention if I don’t show my face soon.”
I forced a thin smile. “Good. You should. Don’t stay out too late, though.”
Cameron smirked. “Yes, Dad.”
“Again? Did you think I didn’t notice the first time you said that?”
Another smirk. “Oh, I got that you noticed. I just wanted to say it again, you know, to get the message home.”
“Then at the risk of sounding like a parent… Be careful.” I tried to match the tone, but it fell flat.
“I will.” Cameron grabbed his jacket, and then there was the soft click of the door behind him.
The flat fell silent again. Empty.
I leaned back in my chair. I told myself it was better this way—distance, breathing room—but all I could see was Cameron’s mouth parted in surprise when I’d said wait.
I shut the laptop, pressed my palms against my eyes, and whispered, “Get a grip, Sinclair.”
Cameron
It wasn’t my first visit to Balan’s—Ben had dragged me there once during Pride—and it was exactly as I remembered, warm light, chatter, and music just loud enough to blur the edges of thought. Raquel was already at a table in the back, waving like she owned the place.
She looked me up and down as I sat. “You have the appearance of someone who hasn’t slept in a week.”
I huffed. “That sounds about right.”
“Flatmate trouble?”
“Something like that.”
She flagged down a waiter. “We’ll need two pornstar martinis. And maybe a miracle.”
The waiter smirked. “The drinks I can do. Not sure about the miracle.” He sauntered off to the bar.
I laughed despite myself. “Still subtle as ever.”
“I’m not here for subtlety,” she said. “Okay, you called me, so spill.”
I traced a finger over the cardboard coaster. “It’s… complicated.”
Raquel snorted. “That’s a synonym for hot and stupid.”
“Probably both.” I hesitated. “It’s about Theo.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. The hunk you used to draw instead of doing your homework. The guy you’re living with. And?”
“And… I kissed him.”
Raquel’s smile turned knowing. “Finally.” She clammed up when the waiter returned with their glasses and two shots of prosecco.
“It wasn’t planned.”
“Of course it wasn’t. The good ones never are.”
I sighed. “He stopped it.” I emptied the contents of the shot glass into the orange cocktail.
She frowned. “Okay, I didn’t expect that. He’s a few years older than you, right?”
“Four, to be exact.”
Her frown deepened. “So it’s not like he’s scared he’ll mess you up.” She paused. “But he has, hasn’t he?”
I shook his head slowly. “No. In fact, everything made sense after it.”
Raquel studied me for a moment. “So, why are you here instead of home?”
“Because I’m trying not to go back and make it worse.”
She let out a sigh. “Cam, you’re not going to un-feel it by hiding in a bar.” She reached across the table and covered my hand. “If it’s real—and it sounds real—then go after it. Life’s too short for waiting until it’s safe.”
I stared into my glass. “He’s… Gary’s best friend.”
“And? You’re not sixteen anymore. Stop apologising for being alive.”
I laughed, the sound shaky. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It isn’t.” She smiled. “But it’s worth it.
” She expelled a breath. “Now, you tell me about college, and I’ll tell you about the hot guy who can’t get enough of me.
” She grinned. “Although this might not be the place to tell some of my stories.” She leaned across the table and whispered, “He likes going back to nature, if you catch my drift.”
I nearly choked on my martini. “One of these days you’re going to end up arrested.”
“Only if we cause someone ‘alarm or distress’,” she air-quoted. “I’m getting a real education about naturism in the UK.”
We talked, ordered another round, then talked some more until the bar thinned and the cocktails dulled the sharp edges of my nerves. Not drunk, just looser.
When Raquel finally stood, she squeezed my shoulder. “Call an Uber. Text me when you’re home. And Cam?” She cupped my cheek. “Don’t let him run forever.”
I smiled, unsteady but grateful. “Yes, ma’am.”
Outside, the night air was cool, full of London’s ordinary noise. I wandered along Old Compton Street, and when I reached the off-licence, I went inside and bought a canned cocktail before searching for an Uber. I drank the cocktail in a couple of long gulps.
My senses were dulled, but not enough.
As the taxi carried me back through the city, I rested my head against the seat. My reflection stared back at me, half-blurred by streetlight.
I whispered to the glass, just loud enough to hear myself.
“I’m not done. Not even close.”
Theo
I glanced at my phone. Past midnight.
I was still at the desk, listening to the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the silence that had stretched thin as a wire since Cameron left. I’d told myself I was waiting up out of courtesy, not worry.
Except courtesy didn’t feel like this. Every sound from the street below made my chest tighten. When I finally heard feet on the stairs, I was by the door before I knew it.
Cameron came in on a breath of cool air and alcohol, his eyes bright, his smile crooked.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his voice slurring a little.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“You never are.” Cameron dropped his jacket, missing the hook. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t enough.”
We stood there for a moment. I could smell the night on him, a mix of rain and something floral from someone’s perfume that made my stomach twist.
Move. Say something ordinary.
Instead, I heard myself ask, “Are you all right?”
“Better now,” Cameron murmured. He swayed slightly. “I should—uh—get the bed out.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, too quickly. “Sit down.”
Cameron obeyed, smiling as I unfolded the sofa bed, tugging at the sheets until the corners were square. The domesticity of it should have steadied me, but each small movement felt weighted.
“Thanks.” Cameron cocked his head to one side. “You take care of everyone, don’t you?”
“Force of habit.” I watched as Cameron flopped onto the bed.
His smile faltered into something gentler. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
The air between us was warm and fragile, and for a heartbeat I thought Cameron might reach for me again. I wanted him to. But then Cameron’s gaze went unfocused, and I took a step back.
“You should sleep.”
Cameron nodded, too slow. “Stay, just for a bit?”
I hesitated. “You need rest.”
“I need—” Cameron began, then stopped, his eyes closing. Whatever he was about to say dissolved into a sigh.
I caught the edge of the blanket before it slipped to the floor, and tucked it around him. For a moment I stood there, watching the steady rise and fall of Cameron’s breathing, the faint smile that lingered even in sleep.
The ache that rose in my chest wasn’t lust now, but something quieter, heavier.
Wanting.
Wishing.
Maybe even a dash of fear.
I whispered, almost to myself, “What am I doing?”
The answer was obvious—taking care of Cameron, as I’d promised I would.