Page 65 of Cream & Sugar

I grimace. “No, thanks.”

“Take one for your friend when he comes back then?”

“Sure,” I give in. I pick up another cube of brownie and place it on the edge of Shaun’s plate.

The barista gives me a knowing look. “He’s cute.”

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to tell him to fuck off. Not just because he ruined our moment, but because Shaun’s not just cute. He’s perfect. And, though I hadn’t realised it until now, I don’t like the idea of other guys looking at him.

Wow. Where did that come from?

As the barista walks away, the terrier in me calms down. I don’t remember the last time I felt this protective. Maybe I’ve never been.Shit, I think as I lick brownie from between my teeth. He's pretty much all I've thought about for the past fortnight. I think this is more than just wanting a shag now. I think Freddie Young mighthave a crush. And from the sounds of what Shaun was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I bet I'm not the only one.

It doesn’t take a detective to see he’s confused and overwhelmed and worried about saying or doing the wrong thing. If only I could alleviate that pressure. If only I could help...

But I can, I realise. One way or another, I can help him understand what he wants.

That's that then. No sense in dragging this out any longer.

I know exactly what I have to do.

20

Shaun

Ohman,Ican’tbelieve that happened. Well,almosthappened, which isalmostas bad.

I nearly told him! Nearly laid my guts out on the table for him to see. I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head and there’s no way Freddie didn’t know exactly what I was about to say. I said everything but the words themselves, but he could read me. I can tell.

Fuck.This is bad.

He’s been silent since we got in the car. I can’t tell if he’s just listening to the radio or if I’ve upset him or what. Either way, I feel rotten.

Today was going so well. We had some of the most meaningful conversations I’ve had in years. I opened up to him. We heldhands. I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy holding hands with anyone—usually I’m counting the seconds until I can let go—but with him, it felt so natural. Like I never wanted to let go. I can still feel the strong squeeze of those guitarist fingers interlocked with mine, grounding me. A very large part of me wants to go back to that moment and linger there for hours, entwined in his grip. No matter the consequences.

So stupid!

I can’t believe I almost told him. I didn’t think I was that weak.

It hit me when that barista came over—the truth of what I was doing. Freddie is a member of staff.Mystaff. Who I took out for breakfast, and flirted with, and held hands with, and regardless of whether it feels like it or not, Iamin a position of power over him, and abusing that power isn’t just wrong, it could land me in a lot of trouble. If I ever were to make him uncomfortable, so much so that he had to quit, that would be all my fault.

I told him to stop flirting with me, and then I ate my words and did it right back. Itouchedmyself while thinking about him. Multiple times! Even though I like him, and I really do like him, it all feels dirty now. Like I’m using him to discover myself. Like I’m being so fucking selfish.

The silence is agony.

I wish he’d say something.

A few painfully quiet miles later, we peel off the dual carriageway, following the signs back to West Marbank. It’s almost exactly midday, thirty minutes before Freddie’s due to start work. At this rate, we’ll be early. My place is on the way. Maybe I should invite him up for a cuppa to clear the air? Or is that a terrible idea? I can’t tell anymore; my brain feels like a pound of fried mince. Thank goodness I’m not rota’d in for today. I’m not sure I could handle a shift right now.

Freddie’s humming along to the radio, quietly harmonising under his breath. He doesn’t seem annoyed at least.

“Freddie?” I ask, once the outskirts of town start sprouting up from the roadside.

He stops singing. “Yeah?”

“There’s some time before your shift. Would you like to come to mine for a cup of tea? I feel like I need to do some explaining.”

Though my eyes are glued to the road, I can sense him looking at me. A few seconds pass before he says, “Sure, that’d be nice.”