18. Cole
Cole
Sloane returns from the bathroom a few moments later. Freddie’s practically passed out on my bed. She smiles affectionately down at him before sitting next to him.
“That was incredible,” she says, and Freddie’s eyes blink open.
“Why do women always pee after sex?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Because it reduces the risk of a UTI,” she explains.
“Oh. Fair enough.” He closes his eyes again and she looks my way.
“Thank you for a fabulous night,” she says. “I had a lot of fun.”
“That sounds like goodbye,” I reply, cocking my head.
“Well, there’s a real risk I won’t be able to walk tomorrow as it is,” she replies, and I fail to hide my smile. “Any more fun tonight and I’ll be bedbound for a week.”
“Sounds ideal to me,” I say, scooting closer to her and tucking a loose lock of dark hair behind her ear. “You could sleep over?” I offer, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
“Nah, it’s ok. I don’t do sleepovers,” she says lightly, though I get the sense not to argue.
“I’ll get an Uber back over the river. It’s funny, I can practically see my apartment from here.
” She stands, pulling on her underwear as she goes to the window.
I yank on a pair of clean joggers before going to stand next to her.
“Oh?”
“I live in Bermondsey,” she says, nodding at the view out towards the river.
“Alone?” I ask.
“No, I have a roommate. Emmy. She’s actually dating Luke, the guy who owns Salt.”
“Oh! So that’s how you know about it?”
“Oh please, I introduced her to Salt last year to help her find a fuck buddy. Didn’t expect her to fall in love with the original daddy dom.” She laughs to herself and I bask in the sound. She looks wistful for a beat, her eyes fixed on the darkness outside.
“Can we do this again sometime?” I can’t help but say it, and she quirks a smile at me.
“Sure we can. You two make a good team.” She winks. Even with the warmth of her smile, I detect the distance she’s putting between us. Like she’s just a little wary of getting too close, despite all we’ve shared this evening.
I follow her back through to the living room as she locates her jumpsuit and pulls it on.
I step forward, pulling the zip up slowly as I press a final kiss to her naked shoulder.
She pauses for a moment, then moves with resolve once more.
Within moments, she’s fully dressed and ready to go.
It’s just after midnight and I hate the idea of her leaving alone, but the Uber arrives downstairs and she blows me a kiss.
“Goodnight, Cole. I had a great time. Give Freddie a kiss from me when he wakes up!” She laughs again and I smile, watching her leave. As the door snicks shut, I let out a breath.
I feel both exhausted and completely wired.
I know I’ll never sleep if I don’t get some of this energy out of my system.
I head back over to my bedroom and poke my head in.
Freddie’s fast asleep, stark bollock naked, in the middle of my bed.
I slip in, pull the duvet up over him, and close the door gently on my way out.
I make my way over to the other side of the apartment and pull open the studio door.
My canvases are neatly stacked, leaning against the wall. I’m so lucky to have the studio – I’ve got a desk on one side where I work most days, and then an airy open space where my easel sits. I select a large canvas and a handful of tubes of acrylic and get to work.
My style is quite abstract – I remember one of my lecturers at university calling me Rothko meets Richter, as I tend to favour big sweeping colours with only loose shapes and substance.
I feel my body relaxing as I set out my materials in an orderly fashion.
And as I start to put colour on canvas, I lose myself in my work.
Tonight was a revelation.
Sloane is fucking sensational. Confident, funny, sexy as hell – no wonder she draws so many people into her orbit. One night of getting to know her and I’m stuck wanting more. Needing more. I want to know every little thing about her.
I press the brush into the paint more firmly than I mean to as a moment from tonight flashes up in my mind – the way Freddie’s face changed when he came, something unguarded and incandescent lighting his features. He’s beautiful anyway. But seeing him unravelled like that? Fuck .
And he was right: he does have a beautiful cock.
I look down in the direction of my own cock, which has woken up again, and curse softly to myself.
This might be very simple as far as Sloane and Freddie are concerned.
It might stay playful and light and uncomplicated for them.
But it doesn’t feel simple to me – not anymore.
Because all those stupid feelings I once harboured for Freddie, the ones I thought I’d packed away for good, have come roaring back to the surface.
And now I know what he looks like when he comes.
Did I ever truly stop loving him? Or was that just a lie I told myself to cauterise the wound?
I sigh and try to lose myself again in the paint. Colours bleed where I don’t want them to, jagged edges appearing in places I meant to keep soft. I try to impose order, but the harder I push, the more unruly it becomes. In the end, I stop trying to control it and let the canvas do what it wants.
I step back, chest tight, and take it in. It isn’t what I set out to create tonight, but it’s honest – an explosion of colours colliding, undulating and sharp in equal measure. There’s no clear centre, no single focal point. Just a cacophony of visual noise.
I tell myself that this thing with Freddie and Sloane isn’t going to change anything between us. It’s just sex with a side order of curiosity. There’s no point in worrying about what the future holds and how and when I’ll get my heart broken.
No need to suffer twice.
Pinning Sloane down for anything more than that feels unlikely given how quickly she bolted this evening. For all I know, it’s a fleeting moment in our lives.
And if a moment is all I get, then I’ll carry the memories of tonight forever. The image of how my best friend looked when he came apart is burned into my mind like a brand, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I set the brush down carefully and wash my hands at the sink, watching the colours swirl and disappear down the drain.
I flick off the light and stand in the dark for a second longer than necessary, before I scrub a hand over my face and head to the sofa. Pulling a throw over myself, I settle down and will myself to sleep.