Lovers Leap

by JL Merrow

  “I’m on the Isle of Wight. Been staying at Rufus’s folks’ B&B.” Michael held his breath. Maybe he’d been too quick to remind her what they’d fallen out over? But, fuck it, he was so done with hiding it.

  “And you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mum. Why wouldn’t I be? You, uh, okay?” Shit. Talking to Mum had never been this hard.

  “When are you coming home?”

  “You want me to come home? I’m not gonna stop seeing Rufus.” He wasn’t gonna give her false hope, either.

  “Just . . . just come home, Michael.” Shit. She sounded like she was crying.

  “Tomorrow, yeah? I’ll come back tomorrow. Get ready for work on Monday.”

  “You’ll be home for tea?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make sure I’m back by then. Look, I’d better go, this isn’t my phone. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “You look after yourself.”

  “Yeah, you too, Mum.”

  Michael hung up, and let out a long, shuddering breath. Then he groped blindly for Rufus, cos he’d got sand in his eyes or something and it was making them water like fuck.

  Rufus held him tight and didn’t say a word. Michael buried his head in Rufus’s neck, breathing the scent of him in deep, wondering when home and comfort had started to smell like this. “’M going home tomorrow,” he muttered. It didn’t sound right. Home was where Rufus was.

  “I know,” Rufus said softly.

  Michael raised his head. “Not gonna give you up,” he said fiercely.

  “I know that too.” Rufus made a funny little face. “I was right here, remember?”

  “’S where you belong.”

  Rufus nodded. “Look, I was thinking. I don’t have to go up to London to be a chef. That was just a thing I thought I’d do when I was younger. But there’s plenty of really good restaurants in Southampton I could train in. Or I could go to college there. Or both, you know, on a part-time thing. So I could get a room somewhere. Like, somewhere near you. Seeing as my best mate’s kicking me out of house and home,” he added in a louder voice, glancing over to one side. Michael followed his gaze to where Liz was talking to the old lady with the dogs from the other day.

  The old lady waved. Liz sent them a sneer.

  Michael felt so fucking light and happy, he could’ve kissed her and the old lady both. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat cos his voice came out a bit funny. “’Spect I’ll be moving out of home soon. Think it’s time, yeah? And I’ve got plenty of money saved up for a deposit. So, you know, I might get a place with a spare room. Or not.”

  “Not,” Rufus said quickly. “The spare room, I mean. Definitely not.”

  Michael frowned. “So you’re saying you don’t wanna move in with me?”

  “What? When did I say that? No, I mean, yeah . . . I mean, that’d be good. Moving in.”

  “Good.” They just stood there looking at each other, grinning like a pair of idiots, until Michael couldn’t take it anymore. “C’mere, you tosser,” he said, pulling Rufus’s face down for a kiss.

  The old lady’s voice quavered across to them on the thin breeze. “Are they a couple, dear? I find it so hard to tell with young people nowadays.”

  Liz huffed. “Yeah, they’re a couple, God help ’em. I give it six months. Six weeks if they move in together.”

  Four Years Later

  Rufus was pulling on a sweater when his phone rang. He just managed to get one arm into a sleeve and his head out of the neck-hole in time to answer before it went to voicemail.

  “Happy sixth birthday, pillow-biter,” Liz’s voice said. “How’s it going?”

  He smiled into the emptiness of his old room at the B&B. “Fine, rug-muncher. And you?”

  “Fine. But that is totally not true, just so’s you know.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.” Liz sounded smug. “Trix waxes.”

  “Oh my God, I so did not need to know that.”

  “Hey, you brought up the subject. So have you heard about that job yet?”

  “Well, I was going to announce it tonight, but seeing as it’s you . . . Yes! You’re talking to the newest chef de partie at the Fat Snail.” Rufus beamed.

  “Brilliant! Congratulations, Roo. I knew you could do it. It’s still a stupid name, though.”

  “No, it’s not. Why shouldn’t a gastropub be named after a gastropod?”

  “Cos nobody who doesn’t work there or eat a dictionary for breakfast every morning actually knows what a gastropod is? So when do you start, and how soon can I have a free meal?”

  “In April, and never. I’m not risking my new job just so you can freeload.”

  “Mean git. How’s Shit-bag, anyway?”

  Rufus did an exaggerated eye roll, which was safe cos she couldn’t see it. “Michael is fine, thanks for asking. You’ll see him tonight anyway.”

  “Yeah, but I was being polite. So what did his mum get you for your birthday?”

  “Har har. Don’t be mean. She’s trying. I got cards from all his sisters and some homemade ones from the kids, though, and Faith’s eldest gave me his old copy of Stories for Six-Year-Olds. Actually, his mum’s been a lot better since she had her hip done.”

  “Should bloody well hope so, all those meals you cooked for her, and getting her shopping in and that. Does that mean she’s come round to you carrying on with her precious baby boy?”

  “Weeeeellllll . . . sort of. I mean, you know how for years, whenever I used to go round, she was always just polite, and she didn’t try to throw me out or exorcise my gay demons or anything, but she wasn’t exactly all welcome to the family? Michael always reckoned she was pretending he’d never said anything and we weren’t actually together, but I thought, if that was the case, wouldn’t she be wondering why he hadn’t been living at home for the last few years?”

  “Yeah, well, denial only goes so far. She’s probably just trying not to think about it.”

  “But now, well, she talks to me about him almost like we’re, you know, a couple. And Michael says she’s the same with him too. Doesn’t even mention nice girls to him anymore.” Rufus paused. “They’re funny, though. He still takes his laundry round every week, which is totally a made-up excuse to visit her. I mean, here they both are pretending he doesn’t know how to use a washing machine when he repairs them for a living. It’s kind of sweet.” Sudden doubt assailed him. “I mean, he must know how to use a washing machine, right? Even if only theoretically?”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Roo. So what did he get you for your birthday? Something pretty damn impressive, I hope. ’Specially seeing as it’s your anniversary too.”

  “He hasn’t given it to me yet.” Rufus smirked. “Not the present, anyway.”

  “Okay, that is definitely TMI. Why not? Forget the date, did he?”

  “Oh, he’s got this plan. We’re going for a walk down to the pier in a minute, and he’ll give it to me then—I mean, is that romantic or what? We’re going to celebrate our anniversary at the place we first met. Anyway, what time are you and Trix coming round? Shelley’s locked me out of the kitchen already.”

  “Yeah, well, the menu wouldn’t be a surprise if you saw the prep, would it? We’ll be there around five-ish. Kieran’s really looking forward to it.” Kieran and Liz had moved out of the B&B six months ago and into a little house with Trix in Sandown. It was handy for Trix’s job at the sports centre and for Kieran’s primary school, where Liz was working as the world’s coolest dinner lady.

  “Yeah, so’s Noah. Well, he has been since Shelley managed to convince him Kieran coming back for a visit didn’t mean they were sending Noah back into care.” Noah was Dad and Shelley’s latest foster kid. He was four, and really sweet in a break-your-heart kind of way.

  “Poor little sod.”

  “Yeah. Hid under the bed again. Shelley got him to come out by sitting on the floor and playing with my old toy cars for, like, ages and ages. I think they want to adopt him, but they
haven’t said.”

  “They’re gonna put in the paperwork, but they’re not sure they’ll get it cos of your dad being old.”

  Rufus frowned. “Hang on a minute, how come you know more than I do?”

  “You move off the island, sucker, you gotta expect to get the goss secondhand. Anyway, laters, dude. Some of us got stuff to do.”

  They hung up, and Rufus finally got to put his other arm in his sweater. He jogged downstairs, where he found Michael, Dad, and Noah in the hall, putting the finishing touches to a Lego tower that was so high, Noah had to sit on Michael’s shoulders to put the last bricks on. Rufus frowned. “Have we got that much Lego?”

  “Oh, you can never have too much Lego,” Dad said vaguely, which probably meant he’d been buying up half of Toys“R”Us again. Michael winced, even though it’d been years since Dad had last used Lego as an offensive weapon and it was way past time he got over it. “Are you off, then?” Dad asked.

  “Yep,” Michael answered, handing Noah over to Dad. “See you later, shorty.”

  Noah mumbled something into Dad’s neck.

  Dad patted his back. “Yes, they’re coming back. Don’t worry.”

  Broke Rufus’s heart, like, every time.

  Michael nudged him. “Come on, then, are we going out or what?”

  They stepped out of the B&B into pale sunshine and hardly a breath of wind. It was a Saturday, so Sandown was as busy as it ever got in the winter, which was not very. It felt weird, being somewhere so quiet, after the bustle of Southampton. The island was a great place to visit, Rufus thought, but he wouldn’t want to live here. He smiled.

  “What are you grinning about?” Michael demanded. “Have I got something on my face?”

  “I was just thinking about stuff. You know. Me moving off the island, getting qualified, getting a proper job, all that stuff. Might never have happened if it hadn’t been for you.” Rufus blinked a bit quicker than usual.

  “Oi, no slushy stuff. Just cos it’s our anniversary don’t mean you get to turn into a girl and bawl your eyes out.”

  “Dare you to say that in front of Liz and Trix. Go on, I dare you.”

  “Do I look like a man with a death wish?”

  “Sometimes, yes. Like that time I’d worked a twelve-hour shift until 2 a.m. and you woke me up at six for sex.”

  Michael smirked. “Made it worth your while, though, didn’t I?”

  Yes, Rufus recalled. Yes, he had.

  They walked down the slipway, along the prom, and up to the pier, where they hurried through the indoor bits with their raucous cacophony of slot machines and video games—Michael’s word-of-the-day calendar had become an annual tradition, and Rufus had to admit it was good for the vocabulary. Getting out of the dimly lit amusements bit and into the bright fresh air again, Rufus drew in a deep breath. “You know, I’m sure the sea smells different here than in Southampton. I mean, I know it’s like the same sea, but it still smells different somehow. Saltier. And more seaweedy.”

  “Yeah, there’s more engine oil in Southampton waters.” Michael sounded a bit distracted. “You got the docks there, but out here, it’s all clear water till you hit France.”

  “We should go back to France.” Rufus slipped his hand in Michael’s as they walked up the pier through all the doughnut stalls and assorted seaside larks, closed now for the winter.

  “So you can trick me into eating snails again?”

  “You liked the snails. And the moules. And the oysters.” Rufus grinned at the memory. “I liked you liking the oysters.”

  “I don’t need oysters to get me in the mood,” Michael said with a leer.

  Rufus let go of Michael’s hand to give his arse a surreptitious squeeze, just as they got to the steps that led down to the serious end of the pier.

  “Oi, no funny business. I know I’m irresistible, but we’re out in public here.” Michael glanced around and smirked. “Even if it is just a couple of sad old men with their rods out, playing with their tackle.”

  “Don’t be rude about the fishermen. Unless you want to find out what a fish feels like when it gets a hook in the lip.”

  There were only a couple of them there, both with hats pulled down over their eyes. Neither had reacted to Michael’s words, which more or less confirmed Rufus’s strong suspicion they were asleep. For all intents and purposes, Rufus and Michael were alone here. It made it more romantic, somehow.

  Rufus leaned over the end of the pier to look down at the water. “Just think, if there’d been sharks around here four years ago today, my whole life could’ve been different.”

  “Oi, what about mine?”

  “Yours would’ve just been a lot shorter. And messier. And you’d definitely have made the front page of the County Post. But what if you’d said yes when Trix proposed? That would’ve been even worse.”

  “Thanks. Nice to know you’d rather see me torn apart by sharks than married to someone else.”

  “I meant, it would’ve messed up Liz’s life too. And Trix’s, obviously.”

  “Really know how to make a bloke feel good about himself, don’t you?”

  “Mm, I’ll make you feel good later,” Rufus purred. “What do you reckon—is this the spot you dived in from? They still haven’t done a proper job of fixing that chain. I’m amazed nobody’s sued them.” It’d basically been tied up with a piece of by now very weathered string.

  “Yep,” Michael mused, wandering over to join him. “It was right over there where Trix proposed. I can even remember the words she used. ‘Babes, I love you so much, will you marry me?’”

  Rufus nodded.

  Michael grinned. “So is it a yes, or what?”

  “What?”

  “You wanna get hitched, or what?”

  Rufus stared at him. “Let me get this straight. You just asked me to marry you with a secondhand proposal?”

  Michael just shrugged, still with that smug smile on his stupidly handsome face.

  Rufus took a step back, narrowing his eyes. “So you want history to repeat itself, do you? Well, two can play at that game.”

  He took a deep breath and ran straight at Michael, arms outstretched.

  It didn’t quite go according to plan. Yes, he managed to impact Michael with a fair amount of force, but somehow Michael managed to grab hold and not let go. Which meant both of them went sailing over the edge when the chain gave way.

  There was barely time to think oh shit before he hit the water. It was bloody freezing, and sucked him under for several seconds before spitting him out again. Rufus gasped for breath as he surfaced, flailing. Beside him, Michael’s dark head broke the water.

  He was laughing.

  “You tosser,” Rufus spluttered, then couldn’t help laughing too.

  “What?” Michael demanded, slinging an arm around Rufus that almost pushed him under again. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? Where you go, I go.” He paused for a splutter as a particularly right-thinking wave slapped him in the face. “And the other way around, yeah? Together for life. So what’s your answer—you gonna marry me or what?”

  Well, it was sort of romantic. And it was very Michael. “You’re a total git. And yes, I’ll marry you. Now get me back on dry land and out of these wet clothes.”

  Michael pulled him close and pressed a wet, salty kiss to his lips.

  Rufus took a moment to savour the warm, mushy feelings inside him, all the warmer for the contrast with the cold, soggy feelings of his outsides.

  Then he put a hand on Michael’s head and ducked him under.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading JL Merrow’s Lovers Leap!

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  It’s All Geek to Me

  Damned If You Do

  Pricks and Pragmatism

  Camwolf

  Muscling Through

  Wight Mischief

  Midnight in Berlin

  Hard Tail

  Slam!

  Fall Hard

  Raising the Rent

  To Love a Traitor

  Sex, Lies and Edelweiss

  Trick of Time

  Snared

  The Plumber’s Mate Mysteries

  Pressure Head

  Relief Valve

  Heat Trap

  Blow Down (July 2016)

  The Shamwell Tales

  Caught!

  Played!

  Out!

  The Midwinter Manor Series

  Poacher’s Fall

  Keeper’s Pledge

  JL Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.

  She writes across genres, with a preference for contemporary gay romance and the paranormal, and is frequently accused of humour. Her novella Muscling Through was a 2013 EPIC Award finalist, and her novel Slam! won the 2013 Rainbow Award for Best LGBT Romantic Comedy.

  JL Merrow is a member of the UK GLBTQ Fiction Meet organizing team.

  Find JL Merrow online at: www.jlmerrow.com, on Twitter as @jlmerrow, and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jl.merrow.