Page 40 of Merry & Bright
“How did you know?”
“You looked mortified when it was being given out,” Nick admitted. “But don’t worry, no one else probably noticed. They were all too drunk.”
They both chuckled. Then their gazes locked again.
“I like the shirt by the way,” Nick said softly.
“Yeah? You’re the only one.”
“I doubt it.” Nick said. “You’re too sensitive. They were just teasing you at the restaurant. It’s a compliment—you only get that kind of treatment at M&H once they’ve accepted you.”
“You reckon?”
“I know.”
For the longest time, they stared at one another over the table, and it was so very intimate to simply gaze and be gazed at, saying nothing. It was as intimate as sex to allow that degree of scrutiny, and Sam’s body was behaving as though it were sex, his breath coming short, his cock hardening.
He gathered his courage and spoke, breaking the silence between them.
“So, do you want to come back to my place?”
***
THEY SLIPPED OUT OFThe Cellar, unnoticed by the remaining M&H party crew who were all on the floor forRocking Around the Christmas Tree. Penny and Monica were performing an incongruous jive for the others who circled them, whooping and clapping.
Sam zipped up his jacket as they exited the club, his breath pluming out on the freezing air. His beanie hat fell out of his pocket onto the ground. Before he could bend to retrieve it, Nick was picking it up and handing it to him.
“Don’t lose your hat. You’ll need it in this weather.”
Sam took it half reluctantly, thinking of his hair and how it would be ruined by the beanie, how ridiculous it would look when he took the hat off. But then, given the state of Nick’s hair, he’d be in good company. Steeling himself, he pulled the hat snugly on his head, a little thrill of pleasure rushing through him at Nick’s look of approval.
“So, where’s your place?” Nick asked.
“This way,” Sam said. He buried his hands in his pockets and started walking, and Nick fell into step beside him. “It’s not too far, just a mile up the road.”
They chatted easily on the way, not touching, laughing amiably over the evening’s events, but the whole time there was an underlying, barely suppressed excitement sparking between them. It made every joke seem funnier and every shared opinion seem more amazing. It made Sam’s smile impossible to shift.
By the time they arrived at the modern block where Sam lived, his heart was tripping at double speed, fingers shaking as he unlocked the main door and led the way up the two flights to his front door.
“Come on in,” he invited Nick, swinging the door open.
The flat was cold; Sam took a second to shuck his jacket and boost the central heating, then walked through to the living room, Nick following.
“Nice place,” Nick said, removing his own coat, turning around as he did so to take it all in: big sofa, wall-mounted speakers, family photos, game console, bookshelves. Dropping his coat on the sofa, he lifted the graphic novel Sam had left splayed open, cracked spine upwards, on the coffee table. He flicked through it, eyebrows hitching up before glancing at Sam. “Tank Girl?”
Sam shrugged. “I like comics. Do you want a drink?”
“I can think of something I want more,” Nick replied, slinging the book back onto the sofa as he prowled towards Sam.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Nick didn’t answer, just stepped right into his space, lifting one hand to slowly draw off the beanie Sam had forgotten.
Sam’s hand flew up. “My hair probably looks stupid,” he said self-consciously.
“Yeah, it does a bit.” Nick knocked Sam’s hand aside and smoothing his hair down himself, his hand warm and sure. “But I like it. Even though it makes you look less perfect than usual.”
“Perfect?” Sam parroted, astonished at the very idea. He was about as far from perfect as he could imagine.