by Liam Livings
"I don't know. Something." I stuck my bottom lip out and turned away from Callum.
He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. "Lena said it was aversion therapy. You're meant to face the thing you fear the most. Like spiders."
"How's it like spiders? You can squash a spider if you want. I couldn't squash Chris. If I could, I'd probably still be in that flat, rather than here, with you."
"Good job you didn't squash him then. Good job you took it out on that poor air conditioning unit, isn't it?"
I shrugged.
"But you did squash him, if you think about it, didn't you?"
"How'd you work that one out?"
"When he left, did you feel scared of him? Did you worry about seeing him next time you were in London? Did you think you might be able to see him and his little bit of fluff, what was he called?"
"Dean."
"Aye, Dean. See him and Dean for a double date, or something?"
"I wouldn't want to go out of my way to do that. What would there be to say? Listening to him boasting about how much bonus he's made, and watching him ignore what Dean wants, is hardly my idea of a good time. He's just … I don't know … it's just like I don't care about him any more. I don't love him, he doesn't love me. There's nothing between us, so he can't make me do what he wants now. Unlike poor Dean."
"So you're not afraid of the spider any more, because you sat with it in your hand and it didn't bite you, it just sat there, being a spider, just as it always was, and this time, it didn't affect you."
I turned round to face him and smiled.
"Aversion therapy, she said." He paused, and tapped his chin with a finger, staring at the sky. "What other things are you afraid of?"
I slapped his back lightly. "They're all getting back in the boat, we'd better go or we'll miss it."
In the boat on the way back to mainland, I realised we'd not paid for the tickets. I tapped Callum's hip and whispered it into his ear.
He brushed my hand off with a smile and continued staring straight ahead of the boat back to the mainland.
As we walked away from the boat, realising we'd got away with it, we walked faster and faster back to the car, until we were running. We stood by my bright pink fairy dust car, laughing as Callum repeated in a comically Scottish accent, "You didnae pay! You didnae pay!"
"This is a new side of you I've not seen so far. Stealing from the National Trust. Robbing your country's ancient monuments out of their rightful upkeep."
"I've to toughen up if I'm to survive in that London, or so Lena told me. I can't turn up like I'm just off the boat, wearing a kilt and carrying my bagpipes. I've to become like the locals, push through the crowds like a Londoner. Use the Tube like a Londoner. Lena said I'll know I'm thinking like a proper Londoner when there's a delay on the Tube when some poor beggar's jumped under the train, and alls I can think is - shite I'm gonna be late home."
"When do you start down there?" I knew this, down to the minute and hour, but I wanted him to repeat it as a way into that conversation we'd been dancing about since the good news about the contract.
"A week Thursday. I'm in the Central room for a fortnight, then I'll see if I can get something with the rest of the company."
I smiled at his use of the 'company' word. I loved it when he came over all actor-y; my boyfriend the proper actor, in a play on the West End of London. I loved telling people about his career.
"It's thirteen trips each." He smiled. "I've booked the first three each from the first weekend. Block booked them. You're coming down three times, I'm coming up three times. Let's get to that and see how it goes."
"How much?"
"Ach, pish." He waved his hand as I reached for my wallet. "If I'm not paying anything to the air con unit, I'm okay to pay for some tickets."
I put my wallet away and nodded. That did feel more comfortable. We'd had an almost row about him paying for the air con unit. He'd insisted it wasn't Chris-like behaviour, and I'd insisted - as the person who'd been on the receiving end of both Chris and Callum's behaviour - that it was indeed very Chris-like behaviour, even if the intent behind it differed.
Now, leaning against my car, he pushed me backwards, put his hands either side of my head on the car's roof and kissed me, pushing himself towards me. He pulled back after a while of kissing one another's faces, and gave me that grin. "Shall we away?"
"Aye, that sounds aboot right," I attempted a Scottish accent and he ignored me, instead tapping on the roof and then his watch.
After some fun, fooling about on the bed, the floor, in the Jacuzzi and on the writing desk by the window, with the curtains open but nets drawn across, we ordered room service and firmed up plans for the first six weeks of him being in London.
I would get the early train on Friday, as early as Ewan would let me. I knew he'd be flexible because I often worked late to finish off shoots and Photoshop the pictures for clients with urgent deadlines. I would meet Callum in his dressing room - he'd told Iris, the Company Manager, who looked after the whole cast and usually knew about what was going on in their lives off stage - and she would settle me down in anticipation of Callum finishing.
A quiet night in the Central School of Speech and Drama halls Iris had put him in, for Callum would have to be up early for a Saturday matinee. During that time, I would see Lena, mooch about Soho or the West End, or simply read in the room. We would have lunch together and then rest of the weekend, until my six o'clock train back up to Edinburgh on Sunday night.
"Iris said there are things the company do together, which she's advised me to go along to, or I'll isolate myself when you're gone."
I hadn't liked the sound of that. What if he got friendly with one of the other actors - most of whom, from my research, would be gay - and accidentally ended up getting more than friendly with him?
Without a reply from me, Callum replied, "I know what you're thinking. Iris said you can come with. It's a right mix she said, some have been doing this sort of thing for years, others are all new to it, like me. Boyfriends, girlfriends, wives, husbands, everyone's invited. It's all part of this Iris's pastoral care approach, apparently." Callum shrugged, and so did I.
"Girlfriends?"
"Aye, some of the set dressers are lesbians, and some of the actors have girlfriends so they bring them along, too."
On Sunday, the weather returned to a normal Scottish standard, so we lit the fire in the main hotel room - Callum pointed a remote control to the fire and it burst into flames instantly - ordered more room service; asparagus and steak - meant to build up sexual potency and make things taste nicer, too; and settled in to a film marathon, between boxes of chocolates we'd brought for exactly this eventuality.
I looked at my watch and it was well into the afternoon. "When's checkout?"
"Ach, that's long gone," came his reply as he handed me another chocolate and turned up the fire.
"I'd better pack." I stood, forgetting I was completely naked since our last bout of bedroom exercises.
He threw a pair of underpants at me from the floor. "Don't worry. It's sorted. I booked tonight too, so we didn't have to rush off today."
I dropped my pile of clothes I'd started to collect from the floor. "Oh, well in that case, fuck it. Crack open that box set and let's carry on." I walked back to him, sat on the bed and jumped on to join him. "Here's to spending money like water."
"Aye. But we can't keep this up all the time." He pulled back from our kiss and furrowed his brow.
"Oh, well in that case, I'm off." I stood on the bed, my legs either side of his chest as he lay on his back. "I'm sure I can find another boyfriend who's much, much richer than you. Someone who can keep me in the style I've become accustomed to. I'd better love you and leave you."
He reached between my legs and pulled me down until I was sitting on his chest. "We'll see about you leaving." And then he stopped talking, because his mouth was full.
Afterwards, I mentioned that Gavin had mooted
the idea of going to the host country having, "made considerable cuts to the wedding budget," he'd said.
"As well as the house party?" Callum asked, his arms behind his head revealing red curly hair as he leant against the headboard.
"Instead of. He said he's always wanted to do it, but just never got round to it. And since we're all so into the contest, he thought we'd be a good group to do it with."
"Does he know we're just going along wi' him, and none of us is that into it?"
"I didn't have the heart to tell him. I caught Big Gav's eye and he shook his head. It'll be a right laugh; clubbing in some European country, checking out the bars, a weekend away. A proper glads weekend."
"'Glads'? Am I gonna regret asking?"
"Gay lads - a mix of couples, singles. You know how straight men travel all over for that thing they do every year with the football." I waved my hand, trying to remember the correct term.
"The World Cup?"
"And there's another one isn't there, one's every year and one's every other year - something to do with Europe."
"UEFA?"
I snapped my fingers. "That's it. It'll be like that. 'Cause I've always thought Eurovision is the gays' version of those, those football things. Don't you?"
Chapter 17
We were under the kitchen table in my shared house. Callum had come up from London for a quiet weekend after the previous one, when we'd all gone to Barcelona for Big Gav and Gavin's stag/hen do. After making a big show of trying to look for me in the kitchen, eventually Callum had joined me under the table, both grinning like silly children. We both agreed we were in need of some quiet Callum and Ford time.
"Or Callum and Darryl time, should I say." He shuffled closer to me under the table.
"That was a bit of a fail, wasn't it?"
"I told them they'd all find out when the time was right. You obviously didn't think about it, because you weren't as bothered as before. Otherwise you wouldn't have forwarded the flight confirmations to them all, with your real name on. If you'd really been worried about them finding out you're Darryl, you'd have done it differently."
"Stupid mistake though. All that time, you and Lena sworn to secrecy and they find out from me anyway. What a twat." I laughed.
"None of them called you Darryl, the whole weekend. And I don't think they will."
"Why not?"
"They've known you as Ford all this time. You are Ford to them. It was just gossip to find out your real name, they never were going to use it."
I shrugged. Gays and gossip.
The worst I'd got from them was comments about if it had been a Renault or Vauxhall van, whether I'd have chosen that instead.
He pulled my face close to his and kissed me. We shuffled closer together while kissing so we were facing one another, our legs wrapped around each other's backs. He put his hands under my T shirt and rubbed my belly button, moving down until he pulled at the waistband of my jeans.
"Not here, we can't. What if someone comes in."
He smiled at me, with that now familiar horny itch only I can scratch look in his eyes. "So, let's go to your room. Tidy is it?"
"I've not packed away the laundry for two weeks, my suitcase from last weekend is still in the corner, full, and the bed's not been made since that time, we, you know, and it got a bit … And the futon's still broken."
"What are we waiting for?" He untangled himself from me, and we both stood up, noticing our enthusiasm as our trousers tented.
As I left the kitchen, I noticed the black bin bag in the corner.
Callum pulled me from the kitchen towards my untidy bedroom, which we were about to make even more messy.
The black bin bag made me smile to myself, for my mind was filled with our attempt at clearing up the apartment in Barcelona with Big Gav, Gavin, Devine, Charlie and Lena. We'd tried to fit four days worth of debauchery into the one black bin bag they'd left us with, and ended up piling it around the edge, hung over and laughing, in the final hour before the taxi took us to the airport.
I smiled at how Charlie and Callum had well and truly put their differences to one side, and had ended up dancing together on the final night, laughing so hard they had to gasp for breath and waving for me to join them, but I'd left them together.
I smiled at how Charlie had said he now understood why I loved Callum, but that he was glad he could still be in my life, as the older, slightly inappropriate but always lots of fun, Uncle Charlie. 'Dirty Uncle Charlie', we all called him.
I smiled at Gavin asking me to be his best man, and Big Gav asking Callum to be his.
We walked into my bedroom, no carpet visible, covered in clothes and shoes. My suitcase stood by the door, clothes poking out of it. He pushed me onto the bed, which smelt of us. As I felt him land on top of me, and we bounced slightly on the mattress, I realised I had never felt happier than at that exact moment.
Callum stroked my hair. "Maybe you should get somewhere a bit nearer to mine, save all this travelling between."
"Or we could move in together."
"Set up our own place with its very own health hazard warning sign above the door. Spare room for your friends to visit."
"Pool our filth and untidiness into one place, rather than spreading it about, long distance messiness, like now."
"Sounds perfect." He leant in to kiss me, and I felt him unbuttoning my jeans.
* * *
About the Author
Liam Livings lives where east London ends and becomes Essex. He shares his house with his boyfriend and cat. He enjoys baking, cooking, classic cars and socialising with friends. He escapes from real life with a guilty pleasure book, cries at a sad, funny and camp film - and he’s been known to watch an awful lot of Gilmore Girls in the name of writing ‘research’.
He has written since he was a teenager, started writing with the hope of publication in 2011. His writing focuses on friendships, British humour, romance with plenty of sparkle.
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