Chapter 5 #6
He’d coach Joshua for his interview with David Dimbleby, then it would be recorded and broadcast. While they handled the aftermath, Leo would make sure to stay behind the scenes, and then, sooner rather than later, Joshua would fade from Leo’s life because people like him were friends with social winners like Mo and Tristan, not with misfits like Leo and Nate.
So Joshua was bound to melt away, slowly and steadily.
He’d go back to his world, back to where he belonged, leaving nothing but a sweetly bitter taste at the back of Leo’s throat.
About forty minutes later, the pub started filling up with notably more people, with their whispers and stares.
Zach ushered them out through the backdoor.
“It’s like clockwork,” he explained in reply to a question from Nate that Leo hadn’t caught.
“PrinceWatch tweets his location, and then we’ve got about ten minutes. ”
“PrinceWatch?” Leo mouthed at Joshua. Out of all the ridiculous things that cluttered Joshua’s life, this must be near the top.
Joshua’s flush was delightful. The discomfort in his tone wasn’t. “They’re a bit… intense.”
“They stalk him,” Mo supplied. “Proper obsessed with figuring out his every move, where he goes and who he talks to. They found his flat a couple years ago. Got about half a million followers and posted just enough details that there were people showing up at his door round the clock.”
Joshua stared straight ahead at the car that was waiting for them, the light of a streetlamp edging his profile in orange. “I had to move.”
Jesus fuck. Leo was taking it back; this wasn’t even a little bit funny, and instead veered straight into creep territory.
Half a million followers. Half a million followers.
They’d be scattered all over the world, of course, but some must be right here, in London.
What if they were already puzzling over grainy shots of Leo from the bar just now?
What if someone made the connection, what if—stop.
Stop.
It had been six years. He’d changed a fair bit since then.
A lot of his clients had been drunk, or it had been a rushed thing in a dark alley or a shabby hotel room, insufficient time, illumination and sobriety to leave much of a memory.
Most clients hadn’t been interested in his face anyway.
René would be able to identify Leo, though, and so would the only other regular Leo had had, a nervous bloke by the name of Jake who’d got off on coupling vanilla sex with verbal abuse.
But neither of them had seemed particularly interested in Prince Joshua, so—fuck, okay. Okay.
Leo forced another breath. Even though there were no cameras around, he ducked behind Nate’s broad frame. When Joshua shot him a confused look, Leo countered it with a shrug and a waggle of his eyebrows that could mean anything.
Fortunately, they made it to the waiting car before Joshua had a chance to ask.
* * *
Leo had been notably distant throughout the car ride, but Joshua could sense him relaxing once they had made it back to Joshua’s flat, spreading out in the living room.
Popular vote demanded the second Iron Man, and when Mo and Leo realised they both knew it by heart, they spent several minutes exchanging lines of dialogue from the first one.
Joshua sat back, grinning and sipping at his beer, watching.
When Mo nailed a particular monologue, it earned him a smile from Nate that was oddly sweet, lingering, and Joshua felt something twist in his stomach that wasn’t quite envy, wasn’t quite something else either.
There’ll be guys queuing up as soon as you become available; that was what Leo had said.
Joshua didn’t think he wanted guys queuing up, though; all he wanted was for someone to look at him like that: with undivided attention and a genuine smile.
Turning away, he rose from the sofa to find them some snacks. He was digging through his cupboards when Leo ambled into the kitchen, beelining for the sink to fill up a glass with water. Joshua watched him from the corner of his eye, but didn’t offer a comment.
“What’s wrong?” Leo asked into the tension spanning the space between them.
Stilling with two bags of crisps clutched in his hand, Joshua glanced over. He found Leo watching him, leaning against the sink with one hip popped out, a hand on his waist and an expectant look on his face.
“I could ask you the same,” Joshua replied.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“You weren’t when we left the pub. You went all quiet.”
Leo arched a brow, and Joshua shouldn’t be attracted to that.
Neither should he be attracted to the hint of stubble dusting Leo’s chin, or to how Leo had been all soft and dishevelled this morning, clad in a ragged T-shirt and boxers with the Superman logo.
The silence between them extended for another few seconds, the sounds of the movie drifting through the open door, mixing with Mo erupting into sudden laughter.
After emptying the glass in one go, Leo set it down on the work surface, then wandered over to the fridge to examine a betting list for the World Cup that Joshua had pinned up just yesterday. His tone was casual. “Tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Mine’s silly,” Joshua said. “Probably.”
Leo shook his head and smiled. “I doubt that. Come on. You’re not thinking of those idiot people on Twitter again, are you? Because they know nothing, Jon Snow.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Another Game of Thrones reference. Which you really need to watch, by the way. Have I mentioned that?”
“You might have. Like, two or three or fifteen times.”
“I should probably sit you down and make you watch it with me. Doing my duty to the country.” Leo fingered the edges of the betting list, but his gaze was on Joshua. “Now spill. What’s got you frowning at nothing?”
Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Just, like. Thinking about what I want, I guess.”
“What you want?” Leaning his hip against the wall, Leo waited for a moment before he added, “From life? For breakfast? Under the Christmas tree?”
Against his will, Joshua found himself smiling just slightly. “When it comes to a relationship. That I don’t need a queue of guys. That I’d be happy with just one person who looks at me with stars in his eyes.” He shook his head. “I told you it’s silly.”