Page 7 of The Fete of Summer (Tales of Crumbington #1)

Nathan had no time to prepare himself before paralysis set in.

Clifton looked even better in the flesh, better than Nathan remembered.

Not that he hadn’t always been handsome, but somewhere in his recent past someone had taken him in hand, accentuated all his many good features—the sweeping black fringe, those thick, perfect eyebrows and piercing brown eyes, the full lips and immaculate teeth—and invented this new and alluring personal image.

Effortlessly drawing attention to himself, he had the kind of charisma that seemed to come naturally with stardom or maybe something taught at acting school—Magnetism 101.

Nathan had only seen one film starring Clifton, a Christmas story Mikey’s kids had demanded to watch at the cinema complex in the nearby town.

Knowing nothing about the film, Nathan had been stunned to silence when he recognised the face on the screen, especially the familiar voice coming from the very familiar mouth.

Once upon a time, those lips had happily sucked Nathan’s cock.

“Clifton. This is Nathan—” began Arlene.

“I know exactly who this is.”

Clifton—clearly used to being the centre of attention—gave Nathan a sympathetic smile before coming over and giving him a gentle but somewhat theatrical embrace.

Nathan tensed up, allowing himself to be hugged like a scarecrow being repositioned by a farmer.

Over Clifton’s shoulder, Arlene appeared equally startled.

“Nate Fresher. How are you?” said Clifton, releasing him before addressing the crowd. “Nate and I went to school together. All the way through from Crumbington Junior to Applegate High. We played football for the school teams.”

And occasionally jerked each other off while French kissing in the groundsman’s shed .

Fortunately, the crowd didn’t hear Nathan’s private thoughts and cooed at Clifton’s words.

“Mrs Killroy tells me you inherited the bakery.”

“Bread. Yes.” Nathan’s mouth and brain had difficulty coordinating. “Baker. Um. Baking. Yes.”

“I was telling these lovely people that I’ll be around for much of the year, filming a new crime series.

Can’t tell you much more than that because I’m sworn to secrecy.

But please treat me like a local. While I’m over, I’m also doing work for some of the international LGBTQIA plus charities I support, including Out On The Streets for homeless gay kids and a charity for victims of domestic abuse.

And, of course, I am delighted to be hosting the Crumbington Summer Fête.

After all, this village used to be my playground.

Now, Arlene reminded me to tell you lovely people that there are delicious nibbles that need to be eaten, so please go and help yourselves while I have a few moments alone with my old pal. ”

Clifton knew how to manage a crowd. Everyone politely moved away, even those who clearly wanted to speak privately to him.

Only Arlene remained behind, like a bodyguard who needed to protect her asset.

Clifton leant in and whispered something to her.

After nodding a couple of times, her head snapped up, and she looked around.

Nathan thought she might click her fingers and summon someone.

Eventually she seemed to realise nobody would come and excused herself.

“Finally,” said Clifton once they were alone. His voice sounded natural, the warmth of his gaze and smile comfortably familiar. “Thought I’d never get shot of her.”

“Sorry, Cliff,” said Nathan before stalling. “Shit. I mean Clifton. Arlene told us you were coming over for the opening of the summer fête, but I didn’t realise you’d be here already. You caught me by surprise.”

“Then it’s me who should apologise. And Cliff’s fine, by the way. For you, anyway. Was then, is now. I heard your dad passed away.”

“Ten years ago.”

Clifton’s professional smile slipped. Their families had been close.

Clifton’s mother, Aunt Margie, had been there when Nathan’s mother died to help them sort out arrangements and work through the pain.

Cliff had often chatted and joked around with Nathan’s dad, someone more present than his own.

The moment of compassion felt utterly genuine.

“I’m so sorry, Nate. What happened?”

“Weak heart, the doctor said. Broken heart, in my opinion. Don’t think he ever got over my mum’s passing.” Nathan stalled. Not wanting to bring the conversation down he decided to lighten the mood. “I saw one of your films, by the way. Prince in the Snow .”

The ploy worked. Clifton's face broke into a smile before he pulled a face.

“Not my finest work.”

“Come on. You were excellent. Mike Shanton’s kids were mesmerised. Thought you were—what was it his six-year-old daughter said—the GOAT. I think that’s a good thing. Mike says she still has a screensaver of you riding a horse.”

“I’ve had far better roles since then. I’m even up for a Teen Choice Award this year for Tangerine Smile . And my manager reckons I might even be in the running for a Golden Globe nomination.”

“Sorry, I only saw Prince in the Snow .”

Clifton switched on his incredible smile again.

“And what did you think? Honestly.”

“Honestly? I had a hard time reconciling the fact that it was you up on the big screen. In fact, I’m having a hard time believing you’re standing here right now.”

This time, when Clifton’s eyes searched Nathan’s, something familiar settled there. Moments passed between them like the days when they could happily spend time together without speaking.

“You’re still friends with little Polly Wynter, then?” said Clifton. “Or does she go by a married name now?”

“Still unmarried. Still single. Just like me.”

“After a team game back in high school, she came up and asked if I thought you’d be interested in going to the end-of-term dance with her. Asked me because I was your best friend. Did she ever tell you?”

Polly had never breathed a word. “No, she never said a thing.”

“Probably my fault. She really pissed me off. Suppose I was jealous. Anyway, I told her not to bother because you were taken. I said you were totally in love with somebody, but that it was a secret. She never asked again. Do you think she ever figured us out?”

“I told her about you and me. She was the only friend I had after you left.”

Once again, a flash of sadness breached Clifton’s charm defences.

Before he could respond, three young girls butted in between them, one of them thrusting her phone at Nathan and demanding he take a picture of them with Clifton.

Even though he found the intrusion irritating, he knew Clifton needed to keep his fans happy and obliged.

When the girls moved away, a short, serious-looking man in a smart dark suit approached Clifton and whispered something to him. After receiving a curt nod, the man departed. Clifton reached into his jacket pocket, drew out and unlocked his mobile phone before handing the device to Nathan.

“We need some private catch-up time. Give me your number.”

Once Nathan had finished, he handed the phone back to Clifton, who texted a message. Nathan heard a gentle ping from his jacket pocket.

“I’m throwing a dinner party next Saturday evening for like-minded people in the industry.

It’s at my grandparents’ place in Mayfield that I’ve commandeered while they’re in the Caribbean.

I’ve sent you an invite. I know it’s not ideal for a private catch-up, but our parties can be fun.

At the very least, we might have the chance to talk without being disturbed by members of the public.

And maybe we can grab some time to slip away and say hello properly—if you know what I mean? What do you say?”

Clifton cocked his head to one side and winked. The good-looking but shy boy Nathan had known ten years ago bore no resemblance to the confident man standing before him. He’d been about to accept the invitation when a heavy arm landed around his shoulders.

“We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Nate?” came a now-familiar voice.

Jaymes.

Nathan looked to the heavens and was about to shove the arm away when he noticed Clifton’s reaction.

His eyebrows had drawn together dangerously, and anger flared behind his eyes.

A flashback from their past hit Nathan, a memory of being witness to that expression and fiery temper when Clifton didn’t get his way.

“And you are?” asked Clifton, his previous pleasant tone gone.

“Jaymes Wynter,” said Jaymes cheerfully, holding out his free hand, bunches of leather bands dangling from his wrist. For a few short moments, Clifton stared down at the outstretched hand, giving Nathan a moment of clarity. The movie star probably employed bodyguards who looked like Jaymes.

“Jaymes is Polly’s cousin,” said Nathan.

“And Nate’s boyfriend,” said Jaymes. “He didn’t tell you?”