Page 27

He was frustrated with himself that he headed that way.

As he’d worked, he’d kept thinking of what he’d say to Jack if he saw him and had come up with nothing.

Well, no, he’d come up with plenty, he just wasn’t sure which way his mouth would take him, how much power his heart had over his head.

But there was no sign of him. Of course, there fucking wasn’t.

Maybe he’d never been on the bridge and Zeph had been seeing things.

Instead of going straight back to his digs, he went to the pub. He felt like getting drunk. It wouldn’t take much.

He bought a glass of red wine and spotted a group from Downing College in the corner. Giles, a theology student, caught his eye and beckoned him over. The table was full of empty glasses.

“Exams done?” Giles asked.

“Finished today.” Zeph pulled over a stool and sat down.

“Four to six weeks of either not thinking about whether you passed or doing so constantly.” Bernard laughed. He studied history.

Not many failed the second year at Cambridge in any subject, but some did.

Zeph sat and listened to the conversation, chipping in occasionally.

At one point, Giles slung his arm over Zeph’s shoulder and Zeph shrugged it off.

Giles was drunk and Zeph doubted he meant anything by the gesture, but he didn’t welcome it.

He’d learned that the longer you wait before reacting to something you’re uncomfortable with, the worse the other person took it.

He changed his mind about getting drunk when Giles edged his stool closer and their knees touched.

Zeph pushed to his feet, made an excuse about meeting someone and headed out of the pub.

He really needed food. Cheese on toast when he got back.

Something quick and filling. He had a tiny bedsit just off Parker’s Piece.

Next year, he’d be back in college again.

As he walked into the quieter part of town, he felt as if someone was watching him. He turned a couple of times but there was no sign of anyone. Wishful thinking that Jack might be there? Zeph walked more quickly. He was irritated with himself for still thinking about him.

“Hey, hang on,” someone called and Zeph spun round.

Not Jack, but Giles and Bernard.

“You going to Devlin’s party?” Giles had his arm slung over Bernard’s shoulder.

Maybe any shoulder would do . “No.” Though he’d been invited.

“Come with us. I’ve bought a bottle.” Bernard brandished a bottle of champagne.

As they reached Zeph’s side, Giles put his arm over his shoulder too.

“Are we keeping you upright?” Zeph asked.

“Maybe I don’t want either of you to escape.”

Bernard sniggered.

“There’s food on the way,” Giles said. “I’ve ordered pizza.”

Zeph’s stomach growled loud enough for them to hear it.

“That’s settled then,” Giles said.

Zeph gave in. Maybe a party would stop him thinking.

They arrived at Devlin’s house at the same time as the pizza. The noise and the number of people hit Zeph like a wall. He followed Bernard into the kitchen where Devlin was standing on a table.

“Pizza!” Devlin shouted and jumped down.

Zeph managed to get a slice before the gannets descended. It was still hot, with plenty of cheese, exactly as he liked it, and Giles was annoying someone else, which was even better.

Bernard handed him a plastic cup, and touched his to Zeph’s. “Here’s to the end of exams.”

“One more year to go,” Zeph said.

“I’m sort of sad and happy at the same time. I might stay on and do a PhD. What about you?”

“Not sure.” Though he was.

“Careful of Giles. When he’s drunk, he’ll go for anything.”

“Was that a warning or an insult?” Zeph grinned.

Bernard looked horrified. “Not an insult. Fuck no!” He leaned in and kissed Zeph on the forehead. “You’re far too good for him. I’ll get us more of that champagne before these greedy buggers drink it all.”

Zeph tipped the cup towards his mouth and his gaze snagged on someone standing in the doorway.

What the hell? What was Jack doing there?

He was looking round the kitchen, then his gaze rested on Zeph.

Zeph’s heart banged against his ribs. He tried really hard not to look at Jack’s smoky-grey eyes or the mouth that had given him his first kiss.

His dirty-blond hair was the same, not short, not long. Jack looked older and hotter and… Fuck.

Why does he make me feel like this? Confused and… Zeph was all too aware of how he looked. Formal trousers, white shirt collar over his tight grey sweater and worn deck shoes, along with his backpack. Boring. Not like Jack in his faded grey jeans, tight white T-shirt and worn leather jacket.

Bernard came back triumphantly clutching the champagne. He poured what remained into Zeph’s cup.

“Thanks.” Zeph drank while he was still staring at Jack.

“He’s hot,” Bernard whispered.

Zeph didn’t even bother asking who he meant.

He needed to leave before… Before what? He threw a punch at Jack?

Kissed him? Burst into tears? Made a fool of himself?

It took him a moment to register Bernard had walked over to Jack and was talking to him.

While neither were looking his way, Zeph escaped, though he knew Jack would follow.

He was halfway down the road before he heard Jack call, “Are you running away?”

Zeph kept moving. “Walking, not running. You should know the difference.”

Jack came up at his side. “You look…”

“Gorgeous? Dorky? Pissed off? Happy?” Since Zeph didn’t understand how he felt, he wondered what Jack would say.

“The same. You look the same. Just a little older. Where are your glasses?”

“I don’t need them. I had laser eye surgery. A present from my uncle and his partner.”

“I liked your glasses.”

Hmm . “It wasn’t a coincidence you were on Clare Bridge.”

“No. I came looking for you.”

Zeph’s heart jumped into his throat and stuck there. “Why now?” After three fucking years?

“I needed to see you.”

Damn his stupid heart for beating faster. “Are you going to explain why you left so suddenly?”

“I can try.”

So he wouldn’t.

When Jack made the turn into the next street before he did, Zeph sucked in a breath. Jack knew where he lived? He tested his theory by walking past his door. Jack had stopped outside number thirty-five. Zeph walked back.

“Can I come in?”

Zeph unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I’m upstairs. Or did you know that too?”

He walked up with Jack on his heels. Part of him wanted Jack to slam his door shut, press him against it and kiss him.

Another part of him wanted to be cool and remote, find out why it had taken Jack this long to get back in touch and then tell him to fuck off.

He knew which part was the stronger and he was angry with himself.

Once Zeph had put on the light and closed the door, Jack stepped away from him. Zeph took off his backpack, kicked off his deck shoes and peeled off his sweater. His room was always hot.

“Do you do lap dances as well?”

Zeph blinked. “As well as what?”

“Stripping.”

Oh God. Zeph’s cheeks heated. That wasn’t… “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” Jack had taken off his jacket and was walking around, examining everything.

There wasn’t much. A double bed. An orderly desk with his laptop in the middle and three screens arranged around it.

Shelves filled with books, files of notes, a whiteboard covered in equations and code.

There was a little bathroom behind a sliding door.

Zeph had a kettle to make hot drinks, but he shared a kitchen with the rest of the house.

He drew the curtains to shut out the street and keep Jack to himself.

“How’s Cambridge?” Jack asked. “Everything you wanted it to be?”

“Not everything.” He didn’t turn round.

Jack came up behind him. Zeph felt his breath hitting his neck, and it was as if the years peeled away. He’d missed him so much. Too much.

“Then what’s missing?” Jack whispered.

Zeph wanted to say you but he turned to face Jack and said, “Happiness.”

Jack looked shocked. “You’re not happy here? But this is what you wanted, what you planned for. Your dream. What will make you happy?”

“I guess that’s what I’m waiting to find out.”

“I thought about you a lot. Did you think about me?”

“For a long while I couldn’t think of anything but you.” Zeph’s stomach twisted into a knot.

Jack’s eyes flared, the grey darkening. “And now?”

“Now you’re in front of me, you’re all I can think about. Why are you here? What have you been doing? Why did you leave? Where have you been? Why couldn’t you contact me?” Zeph bit his lip to stop more questions pouring out.

“If I can’t answer all those questions, would you prefer that I left?”

Zeph knew he could have told Jack to leave and he’d have gone. But those words would not come out of his mouth. His nerves spiked like sharp needles. Pain running alongside pleasure. He’d imagined this moment for years and all that he’d thought he’d say had disappeared.

“I’m thinking about kissing you.” Zeph felt like he’d blurted that out but he hadn’t. He’d considered every word and still said them while his brain popped and fizzed in an alarming way. “Wondering if it would be the same, still electric, still magic.”

“You could find out.”

It was as though the last three years hadn’t happened.

Zeph’s longing flooded back, overwhelming his anger, overpowering him like a storm surge.

He moved so slowly, it was as if he’d been caught in some slow-motion film, but then his lips finally met Jack’s and brushed against them.

The sensation was feather-soft yet he felt it in every cell of his body.

Zeph took a step back and they both exhaled shakily.

“Forgotten how to kiss?” Jack asked.

“It’s been a long while.” Something curled in Zeph’s stomach at the confession.

He wished he’d not said it. Before he could start wondering how many partners Jack had kissed and walked away from, Jack pulled him in, crushing their lips together.

The effect was instantaneous, water falling onto phosphorous, and Zeph caught fire.

The scent of Jack, the taste of him, the feel of him, Zeph wanted it all.

Jack’s hand was at the back of Zeph’s head, cupping his nape, holding him in place while Zeph clung to Jack’s T-shirt.

The kiss started as a desperate mess of lips and tongues, then gradually slowed and morphed to something very different, more caring, filled with wonder as they explored each other’s mouth.

Even as Zeph curled his tongue around Jack’s he wondered what he was doing. Jack would leave again. That knowledge sat in his core. But if this was all he could have, Zeph still wanted it.

Their bodies stayed pressed together and Jack’s hands were now on Zeph’s backside, keeping him in place.

The sound Jack made in his throat flicked more heat into Zeph’s stomach.

When they broke for air, Jack lifted his head and said, “It’s been a long while for me too.

I’ve never forgotten your kisses. We were good at this. ”

Zeph wanted to cry.

Jack pushed him back to the wall and kissed him again, rocking against him.

Oh God, my cock. In some distant part of Zeph’s brain, those few cells not overcome with lust were telling him to stop before he came in his trousers.

Stop hovered in his head but the word was lost in the mind-numbing pleasure of what they were doing.

Why stop when this felt so good, so right, so perfect?

When Jack pulled back, Zeph’s heart lurched, but he was only removing his T-shirt. Zeph widened his eyes at Jack’s body. He’d been fit before, now he was ripped, though there were scars on his arms and chest. Jack slowly unfastened the buttons on Zeph’s shirt.

“You’ve grown muscles,” Jack whispered.

The way Jack looked at him made Zeph gulp.

They couldn’t stop touching each other. At least, Zeph couldn’t.

He ran his fingers over Jack’s arms, his chest, his face.

It was as if he had to keep convincing himself that he was really here, not a figment of his imagination.

When Zeph felt the grind of Jack’s dick against his, he groaned.

Jack’s tongue was deep in his mouth as he bucked against him.

I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know anything about you. What you do, where you live. Why you’re here.

But Zeph could feel Jack’s desire, and at that moment, it made him happy.