by Lily Morton
“I don’t think a natural would use the words ‘this shit’ to describe a date.”
I laugh and tug him close and we wander next to the river talking and laughing. It’s like a thousand other times I’ve spent with Charlie but made immeasurably better because now I can hold his hand. Now, he’s mine.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie
The late afternoon sun is fading to a delicate twilight as Misha and I round the corner and spot our group waiting by the fountain as arranged. They’re dressed like us in jeans, coats, and sky-blue T-shirts emblazoned with the name of the epilepsy charity that we’re supporting tonight.
“Alright?” I call out, and they turn to grin at me. Not all of them are smiling, actually. As we get closer, I see Felix is shooting glares at his ex-boyfriend who is standing next to Zeb.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Did you ask Max to the charity walk?”
Misha shrugs a bit too casually. “I told Zeb it would be alright. I didn’t realise Felix was coming too.”
I look at him sceptically. “Really?” I ask.
He huffs indignantly. “How is it that you don’t believe me, Charlie? That’s hurtful.” I stare some more, and he breaks. “Okay, Zeb and I arranged it to see if we can get them to talk.” He looks at me. “Did I even sound remotely truthful about Felix?”
I see-saw my hands. “Not to someone who knows you.” I pause. “You know, people like your cousin, Felix.”
“Great,” he groans. “He’s going to kill me and knowing him, it will be slow and exceedingly painful.”
“Felix is lovely. He wouldn’t do that.”
He looks at me in consternation. “Have you actually met him?”
I bite my lip. “Okay, he would do that.” I cheer up. “At least he isn’t going to be cross with me. I’m going to try to move away from you so he doesn’t think I was involved in the plot. I hope that’s okay.”
A smile flits across his full lips. “Thank you so much, Charlie. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your support.”
“We are a full-service organisation,” I intone.
“I know,” he says, his eyes darkening.
We’re both thinking back to when I’d blown him earlier, kneeling in the hallway and taking him into my mouth as soon as he came in from work.
I shake my head reprovingly, and he smiles, the white of his teeth gleaming.
We reach the group, and Jesse grins at us. “Alright, people? What’s in the bag, Charlie? Is it alcohol?”
I give him an exasperated look. “No. The last thing we need on a charity walk is to be drunk.”
“Really?” His vivid face is alive with laughter. “I’d think it would be a requirement. Like having an ambulance on standby for when we collapse with exhaustion.”
“It’s a slow walk through London, not a marathon through the Sahara Desert,” Zeb says, shooting a wary glance at Felix and Max who are hissing something at each other.
Jesse follows his gaze and sighs. “Zeb. When you decide to meddle in other people’s affairs, you really should be fully prepared for everything that comes your way.”
“Everything?” Zeb asks, giving the two men another uneasy look.
Jesse shrugs. “Everything. This is Felix we’re talking about. You should really start to cultivate a sense of self-preservation, lover. Especially at your advanced age.” He laughs as Zeb glares at him. He reaches up for a kiss which the older man willingly supplies.
I smile at the two of them. I’d been sceptical when they got together. Zeb is gorgeous, but in addition to being his boss, he’s older than Jesse and seemed extremely set in his ways. However, Jesse’s natural charming exuberance had worked its spell, and the two have been inseparable since they got together. They look very right together, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces that have snapped into place.
I open my carrier bag and pull out the glow sticks I’d packed. “Thought we could wear these,” I say cheerfully.
Misha groans. “Can I just register my displeasure with this idea? It’s bad enough that we have to walk through London when there are a multitude of taxis that could drive us wherever we want to go, and now we have to do it looking like a relic from a rave in the nineties.”
“You can certainly register that thought as long as you’re aware that I’m going to completely ignore it like the rest of your whingeing.” I smile widely at him. “Get your glow on, Misha.”
He laughs, grabbing a stick and giving my hand a squeeze before wrapping the stick around his wrist where it glows in vivid colour in the darkening night. He pulls me close. “I’m doing this for you and I hope it’s suitably appreciated later,” he says in a low voice, and I swallow hard before smirking at him.
“I will be so appreciative that I’ll be struggling to walk tomorrow,” I whisper and his eyes flame.
“Promises, promises.”
I step away to offer the rest of the sticks to the group, only to find them silently staring at us, including Max and Felix, who have abandoned their fight.
“What?” I say nervously.
Jesse folds his arms over his chest. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Charlie Burroughs. For shame. What’s going on between the two of you?”
“Erm,” I falter, looking at Misha. We haven’t made a contingency plan for this. We haven’t said it’s secret, but we equally haven’t been racing to tell everyone.
He gives me a long look, and I can’t decipher his expression, but then he turns to the men. “Charlie and I are together,” he says simply. “I would request that you keep the piss-taking to a minimum, but the intense realism that’s a major part of my personality tells me that you load of twats won’t be able to comply with that.”
“Not at all,” Jesse says mournfully. He shakes his head. “I’m just not very good with any form of authority.”
“A fact that we’re all very aware of after existing in the same workplace with you for years,” Felix says tartly. He’s wearing very skinny jeans that cling to his thin figure, and his T-shirt is knotted sassily at his hip rather than hanging loose like everyone else’s. He’s also, for some reason, wearing heart-shaped red sunglasses. His hair is its usual tumbling mess, and I smile at him. I’m very fond of Misha’s sassy younger cousin.
He grins back at me. “So, you and Misha are together now?” I nod, and he turns, snapping his fingers at Zeb. “You owe me a hundred quid.”
Zeb makes a resigned face and digs in his pocket for his wallet. “Okay, but I need to check the betting book to see whether you’ve won that much. I’m sure the odds changed this week.”
“The book?” Misha echoes in disbelief. “Have you been betting on Charlie and me sleeping together?”
Jesse laughs. “Of course they fucking have. It’s obviously very boring in their office since I left.”
“Boring or bearable?” Felix says.
Max laughs. It’s a warm and infectious sound that fits the tall, wide-shouldered man. He has a crazy air of effervescence about him. A naughtiness that’s infectious and makes everyone smile back at him. Everyone apart from Felix, who just shoots him an enigmatic glance.
“I can’t believe you’ve been betting on my love life,” Misha says in a mournful tone. “You’re a massive bunch of dicks.” He smiles at Max. “I’m excluding you from that insult because you’ll have been out of it, not being in the office.”
Max shrugs. “I wouldn’t bother. I had you shagging by Christmas.” He frowns. “How did you last this long? Where did you get your willpower from?”
“Well, we don’t all drop our Calvin Kleins at the first sight of a man,” Felix says tartly. “Some of us wait for a bit which you really should try. Your frantically overworked privates might appreciate a rest at some point in time.”
Max’s eyes gleam at that sally and he opens his mouth to reply, but I clap my hands frantically to stop the comment.
“Okay, shall we make our way to the start line?” I say brightly, feeling like I’m working at a
children’s holiday camp in Butlin’s.
Max and Felix exchange glances, but the group follow my directions and wander to where everyone is gathering.
Despite Misha’s misgivings, the walk is actually lovely. People chatter happily as we form a long line of walkers, and many wear glow sticks and funny hats. It’s a cold evening, so it’s nice to work up a glow, and London is beautiful at night, all the old buildings lit up like they’re on stage.
We pass the Tower of London and manoeuvre around the crowds that are always here day or night, rain or shine. Misha is ahead of me talking with Zeb, and I’m taking in the sights with pleasure when Felix pops up next to me. He’s wearing glow sticks around his wrists and neck, and they drop neon shards of colour over the sharp bones of his face.
“Alright, Charlie?” he asks in an interested voice.
I shoot a look at him and sigh. “Okay, ask your questions.”
“Goodness, can’t a boy ask a friend how he is?”
I eye him. “He certainly can and probably will do after he’s eviscerated every detail of that friend’s love life.”
“You know, you were a lot nicer before you met Misha.”
I laugh. “You didn’t know me before Misha.” I pause. “Although yes, I probably was.”
“So, best friends of over twenty years and now look at you.” He gives me a nudge with his sharp elbow. “All loved up in your riverside apartment with your banker.”
“We’re not loved up, Felix,” I mutter, worried that Misha will hear.
“Really?” he asks with lively interest. “You’re not shagging, then?”
“Well, yes, but… Well, that’s—” I falter.
He starts to laugh, and Max looks back instantly at the merry sound. His eyes soften, but he faces forward quickly as soon as Felix stops chuckling.
Felix grabs my arm, threading his own through it. “Charlie, you and Misha could never be just anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you think so many people have been betting on you getting together?”
“Because they have very limited social lives.”
He laughs. “Apart from that.” I shrug, and he leans closer. “Because you’re made for each other, trite as that may sound.”
“But we might never have realised that, Felix.”
He shrugs. “I think at some point you would have done. At least this way you were both so oblivious, there was very limited pining.”
I squeeze his hand. “Unlike you and Max.”
“Me and Max?” He shakes his head, a startled expression on his face. “We were done and finished a very long time ago.”
I don’t know what happened because Felix has never said, but Misha said he was devastated at the end of the relationship. I tried to be angry with Max out of loyalty to Felix, but that stopped when he called round to the flat to ask my advice on getting Felix back and I had to tell him that he was dating someone new. There was no covering up the heartbreak written all over Max’s face.
“Does Max know that it’s finished?” I ask cautiously.
“Judging by the amount of arses he’s fallen into since, I think he’s fairly cognizant of the fact.”
“Really? And he wouldn’t have you back if you clicked your fingers?”
“There’s about as much chance of me clicking my fingers for him as there was of Dorothy getting home by clicking her shoes, which, by the way, never matched her outfit.”
“Doesn’t gingham go with sparkles?” I ask, and he shoots me a pitying look.
“Are you actually gay, Charlie, or just pretending?”
I nudge him. “I’ll get Misha to corroborate my statement. And just for the record.” I lean close. “Max hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night, so you just keep on telling me that you’re both over it.”
“He might not be, but I certainly am. I’m not looking for a way back to Max. That’s never going to happen.”
“Maybe you’re not, but what happens if he’s keeping that path tidy for you to walk back on?”
“Then he should go back to journalism. That brand of gardening was never his forte.”
Misha comes up next to me and slings his arm over my shoulder. He’s warm as toast, and I can smell the scent of his aftershave. “Alright?” he asks, nuzzling into my ear.
I shudder slightly, and Felix laughs before walking off to join Jesse and Zeb.
“Well, that went well,” he says. I look at him in query. “Our debut as lovers.”
I shake my head. “We were greeted with piss-taking and a mass pay-out of bets on when we fucked. Zeb is currently on the phone allaying his accountant Sheila’s concern that the odds had changed.”
He shrugs. “Could have been worse.”
“You should have that on your headstone, Misha.”
“I will, along with the words ‘Why, in the name of God, did he make me do a charity walk?’”
His laughter is loud as I pinch him. He pulls me tight to his side and the rest of my walk is spent wrapped in his warmth.
The next morning we stand on the pavement outside the wedding shop where we’re meeting Misha’s mum and sisters to see his mum’s wedding dress and try on our suits.
“Okay,” I say. “How much are we telling them, Misha?”
He looks at me queryingly. He can’t speak as I’ve interrupted him while he was trying to stuff an entire chocolate croissant into his mouth.
“I mean, how are we telling them that we’re together?” I tap my mouth. “Maybe it’s best to say nothing. I don’t want over-expectation to ruin what we’ve only just started, and let’s face it, the parents have been shipping us since we both announced that we were gay.” I nod. “We’ll just say nothing and that way no one gets upset if we split up.” He frowns, and I squeeze his arm. “Not that that’s going to happen.” I blow out a breath. “Okay, I’m pleased with that decision. Good chat. Thank you.”
He swallows his croissant with difficulty. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. Thanks for the chat,” I say vaguely, smiling as I hear his snort of laughter.
The bell rings as we enter the shop, and we spot the girls immediately. Misha’s mum, Jackie, is looking at a rack of hats. Anya is sitting curled up on one of the sofas with her legs resting over Teddy’s lap. Teddy is sitting comfortably with her nose buried deep in a book.
They look up at the sound of the bell and immediately greet us. Jackie hurries over. “Thanks for meeting us on a Saturday,” she says. “I know you’re busy.”
“It’s my Saturday off,” I say, hugging her. “And you know Misha doesn’t do a lot of work, so you’re not interrupting anything for him either.”
“I do a lot of work,” he says indignantly. “Which you’d know if you looked up what hedge fund managers actually do.”
Jackie pats his arm. “At least you don’t have to mow the grass at this time of the year.”
I laugh, and Misha shakes his head before going over to hug his sisters. I watch him go, idly appreciating the taut firmness of his bum. He puts an extra sway in it and shoots me a look over his shoulder. When I shake my head reprovingly, he laughs.
I look up, and Jackie is regarding me steadily with one eyebrow raised. I blush and immediately leap into speech. “Have they got our suits? I’m so pleased to be an usher. I’ve never been one of those, and it always looked really glamorous at weddings when we were kids. They were always standing outside the church laughing and drinking from hip flasks and—” I pause. “Not that we’ll be drinking from hip flasks. We will, of course, take it very seriously and—”
“Charlie, what’s going on with you and Misha?”
“With Misha and me?” My voice has gone slightly high, and I cough and clear my throat. “What do you mean?” Misha looks up, and I signal with my eyes wildly. His mouth quirks, and he stays where he is. Bastard.
Jackie shakes her head. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Charlie Burroughs. What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on,” I squeak. “Where did you get the silly idea that something is going on?”
“From the fact that I just stood and watched you get out of Misha’s car and kiss each other.”
“Oh. Oh.” I grimace. “I thought that was reflective glass in the shop window.”
“Obviously not.”
“But there should be. Think of the fading. Of the gowns,” I say faintly.
Her mouth quirks.
“What’s up?” Misha asks, walking over.
“Your mum seems to think that we’re together,” I say with a great deal of emphasis. “I was just telling her she was wrong, but she saw us kissing and—”
“Yeah,” he breaks in. “Charlie and I are together.” He pats me on the bum and gives his mum a kiss.
“Oh. Oh well. It’s good that we didn’t have a plan or anything,” I mutter.
Misha grins. “Know when you’re beaten,” he advises me. “We were standing outside the shop window when you laid one on me.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I started to eat my croissant, and then you started talking and talking, and talking some more. You didn’t seem to need my input in that word vomit,” he says primly. “Let that be a lesson to you.”
I can’t stop my smile, and he hugs me tightly to his side, kissing my temple and nuzzling into the hair there.
Jackie gives an excited squeal and claps. “This is amazing. I’m so thrilled.”
“Why are you hugging Charlie?” Anya calls. “Are you boyfriends now?”
Teddy looks up with interest.
Misha smiles. “We are.”
The girls stare at us. “Cool,” Anya says before turning back to her phone. Teddy nods kindly at us and goes back to her book.
“Do you know what all this is telling me, Charlie?” Misha says.
“That no one is interested in our lives?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s telling me that at least in this tiny corner of London no one has been betting on our relationship.”
