Page 70 of C is for Comfort

“I think my head’s going to explode.”

Spence grins. “I’ll lay off the science for tonight, sweet boy.”

“It’s time to say goodnight, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I glance at my door, wondering if I dare break the rule I set about not bringing hook-ups home. Spence isn’t my hook-up. He’s my date. I let Blake have Gabe and Calvin over. My shoulders slump. There was a strictly no-fooling-around rule, which Blake stuck to as far as I know. If I invite Spence in, I’d want to take him to my room and touch and kiss him all over. I’d want to feel him inside me.

“Goodnight,” I say softly.

He kisses my cheek. “Goodnight, sweet boy. I’ll see you again soon?”

But not tomorrow after work, for quick, meaningless sex.

“Soon,” I echo.

I watch him walk away down the street, and then head inside.

“Good date?” Archie asks, making me jump out of my skin.

“Fucking hell, Archie!” I hiss. I don’t want to wake Lexi.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing lurking on the steps?”

“I’d been to the loo when I heard you talking outside, so I thought I’d wait and see how your date went. I didn’t think you’d take so long to say goodbye. What were you doing out there? Giving him a hand job?”

I give him a withering look. “We were talking. He kissed me goodnight.”

“How sweet.”

I shake my head, take my boots off, and then head into the living area.

Archie follows me. “So… how was it?”

“It was really good.” I sit on the sofa. “He took me to the National Gallery.”

“Sounds boring.” Archie perches on the arm of the chair.

“It was amazing. We sketched and paintedWhistlejacket.” My heart skips. “I told him the first night we met that it was my favourite painting, and he remembered.”

Archie whistles. “He’s a keeper.”

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

“Wait? You painted?” Archie asks. “Proof, or it never happened.”

“I gave the painting to Spence.” I look at my hands, but I washed them before we ate, so any trace of paint is gone from my fingers.

“I’m glad he got you painting again,” Archie says softly. “It makes you happy.”

It really does, and it’s only now that I realise I wasn’t painting because I wasn’t happy. I was treading water every day, trying to keep myself from drowning.

“Are you seeing him again?” Archie asks.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure when. He’s back on day shifts on Thursday for four days.” Right over my weekend. It really is going to be tough aligning our schedules.