Matt raised his glass in a silent salute. “Bright and early.” He watched Ryan and Dominic sway all the way over to the two tables, only looking away when they sat down with the menu placed in the middle for everyone to try and see.
“His mate’s a bit of an arsehole, don't you think?” Matt said as Sam sat staring at him as if he’d grown two heads. “What?”
“Just running partners, eh?” Sam sighed when Matt stared back at him. “It looked a little more friendly than that.”
“We’ve had sex twice. It’s not like I don’t know him a little.” Matt played with his pint glass, thinking about Ryan. “Besides, I like him. I think we could be good friends.”
Sam choked on the mouthful of cider he’d just taken, covering his mouth with his hand and reaching for one of the paper napkins in with the cutlery jar. “Good friends?” He narrowed his eyes, and Matt had the urge to squirm in his seat.
“Yes, that’s what I said. I can have them, you know. Up until five minutes ago, you were one of them.”
Sam took another drink and set his glass down with purpose. “One”—he ticked it off on his fingers—“what happened to never seeing him again? And two, you always moan about meeting new people for anything other than sex. Apparently, and I quote, ‘I have all the friends I want; I’m not interested in looking for more.’” He stared pointedly at Matt until Matt was forced to answer him.
“Fine. Yes, I did say that, but to be fair, we were all drunk at the time, and Dave kept going on about trying new pubs to ‘broaden our social interactions’ or something.”
“And the other thing?”
Had he really said he never wanted to see Ryan again? Probably, but it seemed ages ago now, even though he’d only seen him twice after they’d had sex. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan on seeing him again, it just sort of happened, but I like him. He’s a good laugh and hasn’t tried to make this more than what it is.”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “And what is this, exactly?”
Matt shrugged. “Two mates going for a run and having a laugh.”
“So you’ve absolutely no interest in fucking him or doing anything remotely sexual again?”
“I—” Muscular thighs covered with soft dark hair. Warm brown eyes, surrounded by thick lashes. Rough stubble scraping against the skin on his chest as Ryan kissed his way down—
“Matt?” Sam snapped his fingers in Matt’s face to get his attention. The smirk he wore made Matt wonder what expression had been on his face just then.
Trying for nonchalant, he rested his elbows on the table and met Sam’s gaze. “He’s still hot, that’s not changed, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But we’ve been there, done that. And neither of us are interested in pursuing anything further.”
Sam looked less than convinced. “Right.”
“I can spend time with someone and not get naked, you know.” Matt gestured between the two of them to make his point.
“I don’t count. And besides….” He waved a finger at Matt’s hair. “I prefer my men to look a bit younger than fifty.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Matt gave him his most unimpressed glare. That joke got old years ago. But it had lightened the mood a bit, and Matt didn’t feel quite so defensive as he had a minute ago. “Look. Ryan doesn’t want a relationship, and neither do I, but we live practically on top of one another. I’m bound to run into him, so why not make the most of it. We seem to get on okay, and to be honest, it makes a nice change to run with someone else. Don’t start reading stuff into it that isn’t there.”
Raising his hands in surrender, Sam said. “Okay, okay. If you say it’s just friends, no benefits, then I believe you.”
That was probably the best he was going to get, and frankly, Matt had had enough of this conversation.
Thankfully Sam seemed to understand that because he immediately switched topics. “So, what were you saying before lover boy came over.” For fuck’s sake. “Sorry, sorry.” Sam laughed. “I won’t mention him again.”
“Liar.”
“Fair point. I won’t mention him for a while, how’s that?” At Matt’s eye roll, Sam carried on. “Seriously though, what were you saying before? Something about getting your mum and dad to agree to—”
“Ohh.” Matt grinned as he remembered his major fucking success yesterday. “They agreed to have some handrails put up on the wall next to the back door, you know, where the step is?” Sam nodded. “And also by the front door and along the back of the house where the garden is.” It would help his dad loads while he was recovering and getting some strength back in his legs, and it would give him and his sister a bit more peace of mind.
“Impressive.” Sam raised his pint glass, and Matt clinked his against it.
“Thanks.”
“How did you manage that then?”
“I told her it’d be summer soon, and wouldn’t it be nice to sit outside without worrying whether Dad was going to fall over. And I had to promise we could have them removed when he doesn’t need them anymore.”
Sam huffed out a laugh, then sobered a little. “Is that a certainty, though?”
Matt rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No, but neither of them want to hear it. The doctor was very clear that, although the operation was a success, at my dad’s age, the recovery time would be months, and he would probably never be back to how he used to be. I think the pair of them seem to forget that his back’s been bad for years. He’s so bloody stubborn. They both are.” He looked up and caught Sam smirking again. “Yes, I know that’s where I get it from. Piss off.”
“Still, you never know. He might do better than you’re expecting, and at least you’ve got them to agree.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And I know it must be incredibly frustrating for him, especially with my mum being so active. I think it’s the not being able to drive that gets to him most. He’s lost his independence.”
They both sat there in silence for a while, drinking their cider. The mood had suddenly got far too serious for a Friday night.
Matt nudged Sam’s foot under the table. “Let’s talk about something else. Friday nights are for winding down, ready for the weekend.” He grinned. “Tell me about your day, that’s always good for a laugh.”
Sam huffed. “I don’t know what you mean.” Then his smile widened. “Well, there was this one guy….”
Chapter Eleven
The incessant buzzing of Ryan’s phone woke him up.
Fucking hell, what time is it?
After fumbling around on the bed next to him, his fingers eventually closed on it, and he answered without even looking to see who it was. “’Lo.”
“Good, you’re alive.”
Matt.
“Go away. Why are you even calling me at this hour?”
Matt’s soft laughter sent a little jolt of warmth through his chest, but Ryan was too hungover to appreciate it.
“It’s eight thirty. You’d probably ignore a text message.” True. “I didn’t want you to oversleep and miss our run.”
“So thoughtful,” Ryan mumbled, already closing his eyes.
“Yep. That’s the kind of guy I am.”
“I’m too ill to run.”
“Bollocks. Meet me out the front of the building at nine.”
Ryan automatically shook his head, then stopped abruptly as his headache kicked in. “God, I feel like shit.”
“I’m not surprised. Come on, get up. A run will do you good.”
Ryan groaned and gingerly put a hand on his forehead, as though that would somehow calm the steady throb. “I highly doubt that.” Nothing except painkillers, water, and a lot more sleep would fix him.
“I’m going to get ready. Don't make me come and knock. I’m sure your neighbours wouldn’t appreciate how loud I can be.”
“What?” Ryan scrunched his eyes closed. “They’re your neighbours too. Sort of.”
There was a pause, and then Matt hummed. “True, but I don’t have to l
ive next door to them.”
Shit, he had an answer for everything, and Ryan’s head hurt too much to try and come up with any more excuses. And Matt didn’t show any signs of giving up. “Fine. But it’s on you if I puke.”
More laughter. “See you in just under half an hour.” Matt ended the call and Ryan stared at the ceiling, phone resting on his chest.
Why did I drink so much? Why?
Because as usual, it had seemed a good idea at the time.
Ryan groaned as he opened the front door to his building and saw Matt waiting for him, looking far too awake and cheery. “No.” He turned to reach for the door again, and Matt laughed from behind him.
“Get over here and let’s get started.”
Trudging over with heavy feet, Ryan squinted as the sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds. “Christ, it’s bright.” When Matt bent over to check his laces, Ryan stopped to ogle him a little. Those tight black leggings he wore were the most distracting things ever. He wore shorts over the top again, but Ryan’s imagination always worked overtime picturing the way they must hug his arse and package. “I fucking hope my laces are tight enough, because if I bend over like that, I think I’ll hurl.”
Matt laughed again and straightened up. “Better to get it all out.” He gestured to Ryan’s trainers. “I hate to break it to you, but one of them’s already come undone. Sort it out so we can go.”
“Ugh.” The very last thing Ryan wanted to do right then was run. Bending down to tie his shoelace was a close second. “I don’t suppose….” He glanced at Matt hopefully.
“No chance.”
With a grimace, Ryan bent over and grabbed the offending laces. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he swallowed convulsively. I will not throw up. I will not throw up. After two attempts, he managed to tie them properly, then gingerly straightened up. The morning air, crisp and fresh, went a little way to making him feel more human, but that would no doubt change as soon as he started to run.
Oh well. Kill or cure.
Matt stood up, ran a little on the spot then clapped his hands. “Same route as before?” Ryan nodded. “Okay, then. Ready?”
No, he was not ready. Not even a little. The temptation to go back inside to his bed tugged at him, but Ryan sighed and waved for Matt to go first. “As I’ll ever be.”
Matt set off, his pace a touch slower than the last time they’d run together, for which Ryan was grateful. With a last wistful look at the front door of their building, Ryan urged his feet to move and followed Matt down the path.
They had to stop five times in the first three kilometres for Ryan to have a drink and catch his breath. Carrying a water bottle—no matter how well it was designed to fit into his palm—was a pain in the arse, but so worth it. Sweat poured off him, his top now soaked from wiping his face on it and where it stuck to his back. Without his water bottle to replace some of the fluids and soothe his parched throat, Ryan was sure he’d have given up already. Their pace was still slow, and Ryan doubted Matt found it the least bit taxing. But Ryan hadn’t puked yet—although it had been close a few times—and he’d managed to cling to some of his dignity. Not that you’d know it by the way Matt kept looking over and laughing at him.
“What?” Ryan asked when Matt glanced at him for possibly the fourth time in a minute, his smile fading more each time.
Matt shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just….”
“Just what?”
“You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean. You’re sweating loads, which will no doubt get rid of your hangover, but you’re still unhealthily pale.”
Ryan fought the urge to roll his eyes because Matt sounded serious. “I’m fine. I thought you wanted me to sweat it out?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t want to kill you.”
This time he did roll them. “I’m fine. Feeling a bit better actually.” He’d said it mainly to make Matt focus on the path again and not him, but as he said it, Ryan realised that it was true. Not the bit about being fine, because he still felt like shit. But not as shit as when he’d first got outside.
Huh. Maybe exercise is good for a hangover.
Matt shot him a sceptical look but carried on running.
Finally they were on the home stretch and Ryan managed to run up the slight incline to their flats without stopping, then collapsed on the grass with a groan. “Thank fuck that’s over.”
Resting with his hands on his hips, barely out of breath, Matt loomed over him. “How’re you feeling now?”
Ryan closed his eyes for a second and tried to relax and get his breath back before answering. “Not too bad, considering. Reckon a big breakfast will sort me out.” After a shower and a rest, he’d put money on being starving. Mentally going through the contents of his fridge, he reckoned he had about enough to scrape together a decent-ish meal.
He felt Matt drop down beside him, and Ryan turned to face him, squinting against the sun. “I expected you’d be doing a bit more. I doubt that run was all that taxing for you.”
Shrugging one shoulder, Matt met his gaze. “It’ll do for today. I want to head over to my mum and dad’s later, anyway.” Silence settled between them, and Ryan closed his eyes, enjoying the sun on his face and the morning breeze cooling his overheated skin. Matt cleared his throat, and Ryan took that as a cue to look at him again. “Want to come up for breakfast?” He nudged Ryan’s trainer with his foot. “I doubt you feel much like cooking, and I was going to make myself some anyway.”
Yes!
Ryan grinned. “That’d be great, thanks.” It always tasted so much better when cooked by someone else. And besides, Matt might be right—did Ryan feel like doing any cooking at that moment? No, he did not. “Need me to bring anything?”
Matt thought for a minute and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Bread, if you’ve got it.”
“Yep. No problem.” Ryan watched as Matt stood and brushed bits of grass off his legs, then took the hand he offered. Once on his feet, the high from running seemed to be wearing off; he badly needed some food inside him. “I’ll come up after I shower, okay?”
“Yeah, perfect.”
Breakfast smelled as good as the last time Matt cooked it for him, and Ryan settled easily onto the stool at the breakfast bar. “Thanks,” he said, as Matt set a plate in front of him. It might only be the fourth time in Matt’s flat, but Ryan felt relaxed there. Maybe Matt’s easy-going attitude helped, he seemed quite happy for Ryan to make himself at home.
Sitting down next to him, Matt paused with his fork in the air and glanced sideways at him.
Ryan swallowed his mouthful of scrambled eggs and bacon. “What?”
“That guy at the pub last night….” The sentence hung there, unfinished, as though Matt couldn’t or wouldn’t finish it.
Ugh. Ryan groaned. “You mean Dominic?”
“Yeah. He seemed a bit….”
Ryan waited, wondering how Dominic had come across. When Matt failed to finish another sentence, he offered, “Clingy, creepy, arseholish?”
Matt’s laughter seemed to take him by surprise. “All of those things, actually. And possibly a little possessive, too.” He waved his fork at Ryan. “Are you two—?”
“Fuck no!” Setting his cutlery on his plate, Ryan reached for his orange juice and tried to wash away the nasty taste that idea left in his mouth. He sighed. “Dominic is used to getting what he wants. He was only vaguely interested in me when I first joined, but when I said no, I apparently became ten times more appealing.” He shrugged. “Now he’s convinced I’m into him and won’t take no for an answer.”
Matt frowned, and Ryan realised how that sounded.
“I don’t mean he harasses me or anything. It’s normally just harmless flirting, but he gets a bit more handsy when he’s had a drink. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hmm.” Matt tucked into his breakfast without saying anything else. They ate in silence for another couple of minutes. �
��He’s pretty hot, if you like that sort of thing. You’ve never been tempted?”
“No.” Ryan screwed up his face in disgust, but then sighed because that wasn’t strictly true. “Okay, fine. When I first joined, I might have been tempted, but the guy’s such a knob sometimes, I’d never be able to look myself in the mirror afterwards.” He grinned. “And Josh would kill me—he can’t stand Dominic. Wants me to report him to the HR department.”
“Is he that bad?” Matt’s concern, while touching, was ruining their relaxed mood, and Ryan wanted to nip it in the bud and get back to their easy flowing banter. Talking about Dominic was not part of his plans for today.
“No. But sometimes it pisses me off when he’s at it all day. If only he’d transfer to another department.” Ryan grinned at the thought. “That would be perfect.” Matt still had his serious face on, and Ryan nudged him with his elbow. “It’s fine, honestly. Everyone has someone at work who annoys them.” He nodded at Matt’s half-finished food. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold. “
Finally Matt smiled back at him. “Yes, sir.” His voice came out soft, his eyes shining with amusement, and Ryan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little turned on right then.
Friends. Friends. Friends.
He repeated it in his head until the feeling passed. They’d been there, done it twice, and Matt had been perfectly clear that’s as far as it would go. Besides, Ryan liked him. Matt seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and Ryan wasn’t opposed to having more friends.
After finishing breakfast, Ryan picked up both plates and took them over to the sink. The flats had built-in, slimline dishwashers, but Ryan had noticed last time that Matt tended not to use his. He placed the pots in the sink and glanced back at Matt over his shoulder. “Shall I stack them in the dishwasher?”
Matt stood, bringing their glasses over and setting them on the draining board. “Nah. Not much point for these few.”
Ryan didn’t point out that there were also a couple of pans and two mugs from their tea or that he used his dishwasher all the time. Even if it meant he sometimes ran out of crockery. Instead he turned on the tap to fill the sink and looked around for the washing-up liquid, spotting it off to the side.
Maybe This Time Page 12
