Don't You Want Me

by Liam Livings

  In short, it was that ongoing car crash of a love life he was—or had been—seeking to avoid by being celibate and stepping off the merry-go-round of dating.

  So Tony rang Kieran.

  “I can’t talk long,” Tony began, breathlessly going on, “I’ve got to get back to the conference this afternoon. I thought I was going to die this morning. Two reasons. I’ll tell you both in a minute, but I need to talk to you about something, OK?”

  “Afternoon to you too,” Kieran said with a smirk in his voice.

  “Is it?” Checking his watch, Tony realised it was well past midday. “I’ve not seen daylight for a while. The conference is in the hotel basement. And my room faces a wall. It’s a bit like living in a Scandi noir crime drama, actually. With purple pillows.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry.”

  “Last night…I got drunk. With Nick.”

  “Nick, Nick?” Kieran asked.

  “The very man.” And, as Tony had discovered last night, he’d been all the sort of man he’d hoped he would be, right down to his deliciously strokable hairy chest. Tony had wanted to nuzzle himself into Nick’s body and never leave.

  Concentrate, man!

  He went on to describe what had happened last night.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised,” Kieran said when Tony was done.

  “Really?” Tony couldn’t believe it. Was he really that obvious? Was he actually that predictable? He suddenly felt quite disappointed with himself and told Kieran so.

  “The thing to focus on is, was the sex any good?” Kieran asked.

  “That’s the thing to focus on, is it?”

  “It really is.”

  Thinking for a few moments, Tony said, “I can’t remember. I mean, I think so. It all felt quite frantic and was over pretty quickly.”

  “Good kisser?”

  “Better than last time, I think.”

  “Last time? You’d kissed him before last night? The plot thickens! Do tell, please!”

  “Few weeks ago. A kiss. Nothing more.”

  “Right. And you didn’t tell me this, because…?” Kieran’s voice was mischievous.

  “Nothing to tell.” Truth was, Tony hadn’t known what to tell anyone because he wasn’t sure what he thought about it, and so he’d ignored it—a bit like what Nick was doing to him now, after they’d had sex.

  “Fair enough. Kissing is good. Someone who can kiss can usually…well, let me put it this way. They’re usually talented creatively with imagination and physical ability in bed. My experience, anyway.”

  “Mine too,” Tony agreed.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Kinda goes against my plan of stepping off the merry-go-round of men. And also, I’ve got to carry on working with him. As his supervisor. Mentor, actually.”

  “So what?”

  “Employment tribunal, sexual harassment, gross misconduct—need I go on?” Tony was getting quite exasperated with this whole conversation and how Kieran had failed to grasp the issues. The fact that Tony himself wasn’t sure of the issues was neither here nor there, but on he was forging with discussing them—to the extent he could—with Kieran.

  “People at my hospital date and get married, have children all the time,” Kieran said. “Nobody cares. As long as people aren’t fornicating on the beds next to patients, what they do in their spare time is their business.”

  “But I’m his superior. Slightly.”

  “Did you take advantage of him?”

  “If anything—” Tony bit his lip “—he may have taken advantage of me. In fact, I wish he’d taken more advantage of me. On my back, with my legs over his shoulders—”

  “Enough! I love you dearly, but can you please get to the bloody point? Or are you just calling to bother me?”

  “He’s been funny this morning.”

  “What like?” Kieran asked.

  “Like, withdrawn. Like, not mentioning it. Like, I don’t know. Not bothered. Like, for instance, he’s meeting a friend for lunch. Like, not lunch with me. Like, never talked about the sofa sex last night.”

  “That is a bit funny. Like.” Kieran sniggered.

  “Not helping. But he was parading up and down in the buff and towel this morning in the hotel room. Bold as brass.”

  “Good body?” Kieran asked.

  “Magnificent. As good a body as a kisser. I mean, he’s a sort of otter, I believe is the term. A full pelt that I want to nuzzle into and never leave. I imagined resting my head on his chest forever. I want to feel his chest hair on my back. I—”

  “But you’ve said to him you didn’t want more than friendship, and now you’ve gone past that?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why do you always want certainty and clarity?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Tony asked.

  “No. Some people can happily go with the uncertainty and accept it. Relationships aren’t like a performance on stage, moving from start to middle to crescendo to finish.”

  “I was thinking about the crescendo last night—or what I remember of it. I’ve had better,” Tony said wistfully.

  “You’re still friends with him?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “And you’re obviously attracted to him?”

  “And,” Tony said proudly, “he to me. Which came as a bit of a surprise, actually. So that’s good, I suppose.”

  “It is. Definitely. Focus on that.”

  “So now what?”

  “Would you sleep with him again?”

  “Of course! I’ve been imagining what I’d like to do to him, and he to me, for next time. It’s pretty filthy, but that won’t surprise you.”

  “Not one bit,” Kieran said wryly. “So why don’t you do that?”

  “Because we work together.” Tony was exasperated that he’d been discussing this for a while and didn’t feel much further forward than he had before.

  “Did you hear what I said about my colleagues being married? As long as you’re not planning to shag him on your desk, I think you’ll be fine.”

  “I would never do that. Maybe I could invite him to one of my shows. He’s seen some of the away-from-work Tony but not all of him. So that’s a thing to think about.”

  “Does he know about your drag performances?”

  “I don’t arrive at work in full-length, glittery dress, gloves and heels, make-up and wig to visit clients. Some of them know, but I don’t really talk about it there. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s not the ‘work me’.”

  “I’d say do that then. When the time’s right.” After a sigh, which Tony took to mean Kieran wanted to end the call, he said, “Can I go now?”

  “What about tonight? Today? The rest of the conference?”

  “Do what he’s doing. No need to have a big conversation about what happened. But equally, if it happens again, then so be it. I’ve got to go now, and I believe you need to do your conference thing.” And Kieran ended the call, leaving Tony staring at the phone, not quite sure what to make of that advice.

  “So be it?” he said to himself. “So bloody well be it?” What sort of advice was that from his friend? Checking in the mirror, he decided he looked smart enough and left the room to make his way back to the conference in the basement.

  *

  No big conversation. So be it. Those two phrases were swirling around his head to such an extent, when he looked down at his notebook for what he’d written about the session he was sitting in, those were the only six words on the page.

  Determined to show willing, he made lots of notes about the rest of the session while still wondering how he could avoid The Big Conversation and reflecting on how he was usually someone who liked A Big Conversation with a boyfriend, and as he left the large room, filing out with hundreds of other social workers, he realised maybe that was one reason why he’d had such bad luck with men.

  ***

  Nick had collected the leaflets for his nominated sessions, even dipping in and listeni
ng to some, despite Tony’s advice to the contrary. He was finding it all pretty interesting—meeting lots of new people in similar jobs all over the country, taking some contact details to link up with them afterwards maybe. He was pleased he’d made the right choice of career and that, despite feeling it was too much to learn and too hard, he was gradually getting into a social-worker way of thinking, which the conference was reinforcing.

  His friend hadn’t met him for lunch. Mainly because—he was forced to admit, eating alone in a café around the corner from the conference venue, otherwise Tony would have seen him—the friend didn’t exist. Never had; never would.

  He’d called his friend Laura, who’d been on his social work course and had got a job up north somewhere—Yorkshire, Humberside, wherever that was…Lincolnshire, was it? Anyway, far away. They’d promised to keep in touch and be there for each other, which had happened through messages and the odd call. He’d been looking forward to seeing her at the conference, but at the last minute, she’d cancelled due to work pressures.

  He rang her from the café. “I’m sitting here alone. Wish you could be here. Fuck you for not coming.”

  “Nice to hear from you too,” she replied. “I’m gutted I couldn’t come, but we’ve got this big child protection thing I can’t tell you about because confidentiality. It’s all we’re doing at the moment. It’s quite involved. Multi-agency is the term, I believe. I can’t say any more.”

  “Best you don’t,” Nick agreed. “I’m staring at the conference centre and I’m eating my lunch.”

  “Why not in the centre?”

  “I told Tony I was meeting a friend. Wanted to avoid him for most of today. You know, after last night.”

  “Sly. Clever. I taught you well,” Laura said with a smile he could hear down the phone.

  “I know, right?” Nick replied, repeating one of their most favourite and oft-used phrases.

  “Lonely?” Laura asked.

  “I’m fine. Tired. Running out of work small talk to share with people. But overall, I’m enjoying it. Learning a lot—from the conference and Tony. He’s a great social worker.” He bit his lip, wondering if he could say what he was thinking, then decided it was Laura; he could tell her anything. “We’ve done friends. I like him as a friend. But I’ve got enough friends.”

  “But you don’t want a boyfriend, do you?”

  “Not after the last one, no.” Nick’s ex-boyfriend had lived with him, been out of work for a while and secretly gambled away Nick’s savings. Savings he needed for a new car. The ex had promised many times he’d get a job and stop gambling but had done neither. Finally, coming home from work one day when his debit card had been declined as he was overdrawn from the ex spending on online gambling sites, Nick had told him he’d had enough and asked him to leave.

  “Still feel guilty,” Nick said.

  “You’d given him at least three last chances,” Laura pointed out.

  “I worry about where he is now. Where he’s living. How he’s managing his addictions.”

  “Not your problem. You’re a kind person. A lovely boyfriend. But it’s not your problem. And don’t worry. I know through a friend of a friend that he’s moved in with some older guy and he’s fine. Fine.”

  After a pause, where Nick remembered all the shit he’d been through with the ex and why he really didn’t want another boyfriend, he said, “That’s why I’m keeping it casual with Tony. It was fun, from what I can remember, but I’m not sure where this leaves us. If it happened again, I mean.”

  “And he’s not into having a boyfriend either?”

  “Definitely not. Said he’s sworn off them. He was doing this really dodgy stuff with dating websites and meeting all these very wrong men. Messy.”

  “So don’t be his boyfriend, then. Don’t make it about becoming boyfriends.”

  “That’s where I was aiming, with not mentioning the sofa sex and keeping my distance. I mean, I don’t want to come across all lovesick puppy with him. Fuck me, I’m too old for that bollocks now. Although, I have missed him today. Soppy twat that I am.” Nick groaned.

  “Better than sleeping with someone you hate. And we’ve all done that. Some of us more than once.”

  “So if I’m not making it about being boyfriends, what am I making it about?”

  “Sex? Friendship? Fun?”

  “But all of those together are about being boyfriends, aren’t they?” Nick asked.

  “They are. But you can do those three without it being about being boyfriends first. If you get those three right, then other things will follow. Maybe. And, honestly, if not, then you’ll have had some good sex and will still have a friend, hopefully?”

  “Yeah, I reckon we can still be friends. I mean, we’ve been totes profesh today. Like, totes. And it was, like, literally hours after coming on each other’s hands on a sofa, so that’s something to be proud of, surely?”

  “Totes is, babe, totes is,” Laura said before making her excuses and ending the call.

  Bracing for the afternoon of smiling, networking, taking on more information and resolutely avoiding Tony, Nick walked back to the conference centre. He had only one niggling feeling, though: if he didn’t want a boyfriend and neither did Tony, what was the point in making it about the sex and the friendship and the fun, if ultimately that would end up becoming about being boyfriends?

  As that thought continued to filter through his tired, light-starved brain, he made his way into the first workshop of the afternoon, grabbing the leaflet from outside the room and taking a seat at the back.

  ***

  It was six o’clock and Tony was in their hotel room, having avoided Nick for the whole day. Not a text had been exchanged, not even on their personal phones. He knew, definitely, that Nick was regretting what had happened, and that there would never be more of it.

  Never.

  Nick arrived and, noticing Tony on the bed, asked how his day had been. After some exchanging of pleasantries and work talk, Nick said, “Is there some networking dinner tonight? They’re trying to get people to go to it, apparently. Someone mentioned it in the last plenary.”

  Tony had been in the last plenary and had also noticed Nick sitting alone on the far side of the room. He’d kept trying to catch Nick’s eye but failed so had eventually given up. “I’d rather cut out my own heart than go to that networking dinner.”

  “Glad you said that. We won’t get in trouble, will we? For not going?”

  “The tickets are forty-five quid. It’s way above our meal allowance, so if anyone asks, I can say we’d networked during the day and saved money too.”

  “Totes winning,” Nick said.

  “Yes.”

  Bouncing on the bed next to Tony, Nick said, “Where should we eat, then?” And then he kissed Tony. No preamble, no suggestion that it was about to happen, just straight in with the kiss, the stubble, the tongue and the holding Tony’s head.

  Tony loved it. Tony wanted the moment never to end. Tony felt like he’d won the lottery. Relieved that Nick didn’t want to return to their previous chaste friendship, Tony closed his eyes and pressed forward, enjoying the taste of Nick, the feeling of his stubbly cheeks, inhaling his scent and wanting to unbutton his shirt but resisting.

  Finally, after some time, Tony pulled back. Coming up for breath, he said, “What was that for?”

  Nick shrugged. “No reason. Well, you’re a good kisser, so I thought I’d treat myself.”

  “Am I?”

  “Very good.”

  They sat in silence on the bed for a few moments as Nick reached out and held Tony’s hand, squeezing it gently. Tony copied and held Nick’s other hand.

  More silence.

  They were smiling at each other, and then, as Tony was about to open his mouth to ask about last night, to question what it meant and whether they were not friends any longer, he remembered Kieran’s advice and instead leant forward and kissed Nick again. Hard. Long. Sensual.

  Their kisses cont
inued for almost half an hour, building in intensity and passion, with them gradually undoing and removing each other’s shirts so they were only wearing their straining trousers…until Nick jumped off the bed, adjusted himself self-consciously in his underwear and rubbed his hairy stomach. “I’m starving. Where’s good?”

  “Room service?” Tony suggested lasciviously, imagining them feeding each other strawberries and melted chocolate in bed.

  “I’d prefer pizza,” Nick said, putting his shirt back on.

  Bollocks. Tony dressed hastily, shifting on the bed as his erection subsided. I’m jumping straight to moonlight and roses, and neither of us wants that. Why can’t I just enjoy the pizza and kisses I’m being presented with now?

  “I’m sure I can find a pizza place nearby,” Tony said, marshalling his disappointment into something manageable and plastering on a big smile.

  “Good,” Nick said, standing by the door.

  As Tony gathered up his things and his resolve, he had an internal debate about whether to mention the kisses they’d been enjoying. The kisses that had given him rather significant stubble burn all across his face. Before he could talk himself out of it, he said, just as they left the hotel room, “Loving the kissing,” and left it at that.

  ***

  Walking to the lift, Nick smiled at the compliment but didn’t respond. He didn’t want them to be talking about kissing each other, or even touching, in the conference hotel, in case some of the delegates saw them.

  As the lift doors opened, they were met with a few delegates, one of whom said, “Hello, Tony. Are you coming to the networking dinner? They’ve announced the keynote speaker. You can’t miss her.” She named the chief executive who had led a very troubled children’s social services department through crisis and scandal in the early noughties.

  Tony smiled and said, “We’re going to give this one a miss, but see you tomorrow.”

  “Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” the woman replied.