Chapter 7
SEVEN
Leo spent the next few hours buried in work, finalising things.
Carole and George had joined forces to select wholesome pictures of Joshua that went with the I-want-to-be-married-with-kids narrative, complementing pre-written articles that would be distributed as soon as the interview aired.
Online portals in particular would gratefully gobble them up—anything for a speedy release.
Controlling the first wave was key to smoothing the entire ride.
At six, Leo shut down his computer. While he felt vaguely guilty about leaving the rest of the team to field the immediate aftermath, he and Nate had promised Joshua they’d be with him.
Handling the client was part of the job, wasn’t it?
Sure was. Even if their main task consisted of keeping Joshua away from the unfiltered fallout by distracting him.
They rode the tube in silence, Nate fiddling with his phone and Leo staring blankly at an advert for an Open University course.
Uncover your potential. Surrounded by tourists, they got off at Camden Town, emerged into a grey evening and walked the rest of the way to Joshua’s flat, Leo with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.
“You nervous?” Nate asked, just before they rang the bell.
“It’s not my future that’s at stake,” Leo told him.
“No. But you care about him.” Nate’s tone was unassuming, and Leo didn’t bother with an answer. Of course he cared. More than he should.
He pressed down on the doorbell, released it, then rang again, just to be a git. Normal, right. This was just like any normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. After watching the interview there’d be beer, there’d be football talk, there’d be teasing and video games. Just a normal lads night.
The door buzzed open to let them in. With a deep breath, Leo led the way up the stairs.
They watched the interview in utter stillness—no one moved, no one spoke. At times, Leo wasn’t convinced he knew how to breathe. Next to him on the sofa, Joshua was frozen, not so much as a twitch of a muscle.
After Tristan had flicked the TV off and plunged the room into silence, Leo counted to ten in his head before he turned to look at Joshua.
Face pale, Joshua’s skin was damp with sweat, his pupils so wide they reduced his irises to slim rings of green.
When Leo nudged their fingers together, Joshua jolted.
“I’m fine,” he squeezed out.
Yeah. Nice try.
Leo bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Let’s play some FIFA, all right? Have another beer, order pizza.”
“I’d like that,” Joshua said, barely audible, and Leo longed to touch him, run gentle fingers through his hair until the tension in his muscles evaporated.
By the time Leo dragged his gaze away, Tristan was already on the phone to order food and Nate had jumped up to fetch another round of beer.
Mo had curled further into Joshua’s other side, his head tipped against Joshua’s shoulder.
Just a normal evening, yes. They’d try.
They did try. It was a valiant effort to project normalcy.
Except Leo’s stomach felt sick with unease each time he received an update on his phone that he checked as subtly as he could; except for the weighted glances they exchanged behind Joshua’s back and the way they all orbited around him, hugging him at random, petting his hair, slinging an arm around his waist or squeezing his hand.
Leo shouldn’t let himself get this close, but Joshua seemed so small and fragile even as he tried to put on a brave front.
The need to reassure him overrode Leo’s sense of self-preservation.
Once in a while, Leo could feel Joshua staring at him for several beats too long, a question in his eyes. Because Leo was a coward, he was quick to look away, and he also made sure that he wouldn’t find himself alone with Joshua.
He wanted to kiss Joshua so badly that his throat ached with it. But that didn’t make it a good idea.
Maybe, if they kissed once, just once, to satisfy the current of tension running between them…
They’d kiss, and it would be nice, but nothing more than that.
They’d separate, would grin at each other with a hint of bashful embarrassment, and Leo would say, “Friends?” with a chuckle that Joshua would echo.
One kiss. One tiny, little kiss, and Leo would realise that he wasn’t in love. Surely.
It was just after eleven when Tristan called it a night.
After tackling Joshua to the floor, then uttering a hurried goodbye, he dashed out the door, late in picking up his girlfriend from the airport.
Shortly after, Leo clambered to his feet as well, legs numb from being crouched in front of the TV for half an hour, battling it out with Nate.
“Let’s call it a draw,” Leo declared, and Nate frowned up at him.
“I was winning.”
“That’s what you tell yourself,” Leo said comfortably. Offering a hand to Nate, it took a moment before Nate accepted it with a shake of his head.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Leo gave him his widest, toothiest grin.
“Thank you, darling. Such flattery, how very kind.” Turning to look at Joshua, Leo felt his expression settle into something much too soft.
“Listen, Princeling. I need you to stay away from the internet, as well as from the telly. Don’t go out.
Basically, grab yourself a good book and sit tight for a couple of days, at least until the World Cup starts or Bieber lands himself in some kind of mess. Got it?”
“You’re leaving?” Apprehension was plain to read in Joshua’s eyes, and fuck, Leo wished he could stay. Nothing was fair.
“It’s back to the office for us. Time difference means the US are just waking up, so this is the beginning of our night shift.”
“I’m sorry.” Joshua dropped his gaze.
“Joshua, it’s our job.” As soon as it was out, Leo wanted to punch himself in the face. Joshua meant so much more than a job. He meant so much.
He meant everything.
Before Leo could add anything else, Nate had stepped on his toes—since they were both barefoot, it didn’t hurt, but it drove the message home. “It’s also an honour,” Nate said pointedly. “At least in this particular case.”
Quickly, Leo nodded. “It really is.”
While Joshua didn’t reply, he lifted his gaze, glancing from Leo to Nate and back, then forced a tentative smile. “Thank you for everything, you know?”
Nate didn’t hesitate to pull Joshua into a hug, and Leo spared a momentary thought for how two weeks ago, Nate wouldn’t have been nearly so quick to do this—not only because Joshua had been Prince Joshua, but also because Nate had been more restrained with physical affection, more restrained in general.
The same was true for Leo. Spending time with Joshua, Mo and Tristan really had done a number on them, catching like an infection. In the best way.
Squeezing into the middle of Joshua and Nate, Leo inhaled deeply. The faint trace of Joshua’s cologne made him want to cry.
Fuck, Joshua had done it. He’d done it.
“You did it,” Leo whispered just as he felt Mo joining the group hug, grumbling about not wanting to be left out.
Nate angled closer to Mo, a seemingly unconscious move that took him slightly away from Joshua and Leo, and suddenly, Leo was all too aware of the press of Joshua’s body, the sharp jut of one hipbone against his stomach.
When Joshua’s lips brushed over Leo’s cheekbone, Leo held very still.
“Thank you,” Joshua repeated, so quiet it was meant for Leo’s ears only.
Leo took a measured breath and stepped back. His smile felt like a foreign entity. “You’re welcome, little prince. Really.” Another breath. “As Nate said, it is an honour.”
With that, he nudged Nate, who startled, then made to ease himself out of Mo’s embrace. Mo held on for several moments longer, a tiny grin quirking the corners of his mouth. They were ridiculous. If Leo weren’t wrought out of barbs and wires, he’d consider it sweet.
A quick glance proved that Joshua was still watching him, confused and maybe a little hopeful. Fuck, Leo needed to get away before he did something he’d regret.
After another round of goodbyes, he and Nate were tripping down the stairs, whereas Mo had announced he’d stay the night to keep Joshua from the news. It made sense, and Leo was glad Joshua wouldn’t be alone. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it being Mo, but… he held no claim. He couldn’t.
“So what’s up with you and Joshua?” Nate asked once they’d made it out of the building, the night like velvet. The road lay deserted, and they descended another flight of stairs to follow the footpath beside Regent’s Canal. Distant lights reflected off the water.
Leo took his time coming up with a reply.
He didn’t have one, really, because whatever was going on—it couldn’t happen.
Joshua wanted steady and long-term, someone who’d be by his side in public, and that person couldn’t be Leo.
If the media caught so much as a whiff, they wouldn’t rest until they’d dragged the sordid mess of Leo’s past into the open, and Leo didn’t—he couldn’t—fuck.
What if Joshua looked at him differently after he found out? All of Joshua’s warmth twisting into disgust? Or—God. What if Joshua stuck with Leo, and the public would judge him for it? What if they cast Joshua as a sleazy, sex-driven creep?
“Nothing,” Leo said slowly. He felt cold and small. “Absolutely nothing is up with Joshua and me.”
Their steps echoed hollowly on the path, the boats they passed swaying gently, a few portholes painting bright circles into the night.
“Hey.” Nate’s tone was offhand, contrasting with a quick, probing glance he directed at Leo.
“Are you bothered by Joshua and Mo spending the night together? Just the two of them?”
Against his will, Leo’s shoulders tightened. “Are you?”