Si looked round, and his breath caught.The man—boy?—person?—in front of him was like someone off of a music video.Or who’d hopped a boat out of Lothlórien and gone shopping in Wardour Street.He had a pointed chin, sharply cut straight hair that was dark at the roots and flame red at the ends, and full, wide lips that curled in a mocking smile.Not to mention the most mesmerising eyes Si had ever seen: one blue, one brown.
He looked like he was expecting a snappy comeback.“Uh?”was all Si managed.
The bloke who’d now definitely be featuring in Si’s fantasies laughed, showing straight, white teeth—perfect except for one crooked one at the side that lent him a reassuring touch of humanity.“Your drink, love.Unless it’s the place in general you were complaining about?”Those unusual, mismatched eyes flashed.“Or maybe your present company?”
“Nothing wrong with the company!”Si almost spilled his drink thrusting it into the bloke’s hands.“Yours, if you want it.”
“Are you?Bit forward.”The stranger’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a deep swallow of Si’s drink.“Gonna have to buy me more than one drink first.I’ll have another of these.I’m Zig.”
“Si.”
“That a name, or are you narrating yourself?”
Si blanked.
Zig laughed again and put a warm hand on Si’s shoulder.“You know.Sigh?”He leaned in close and breathed a long, heavy sigh right in Si’s ear.
Bloody hell, Si was probably redder than them Chinatown lanterns right now.“It’s a name,” he croaked out, and cleared his throat.“I’ll get the drinks.”
He pulled out his wallet and waved to the barman, half expecting Zig to disappear as soon as his back was turned, cos seriously, what the hell was a bloke like Zig doing with someone like him?A warm arm slid around his waist, and he almost jumped out of his skin.
“I’ll have a pint of lager, and a...”Si floundered.
“Smirnoff Ice,” Zig provided.
The barman, who looked old enough to be Si’s dad—no way was he a day under thirty—gave Zig a weird look, not too friendly.“Got ID?”
“Uh, yeah, mate.Hang about.”Si fossicked in his wallet for his driving licence.
“Not you.Him.”
Zig smiled, all teeth, and gave Si a squeeze.“Not buying, am I?”Zig put Si’s empty glass down on the bar with a clunk, like it was punctuation.
The barman frowned but handed over their drinks and took Si’s money.
“Haven’t seen you around here before,” Zig said, taking his drink with a brush of fingers over Si’s hand.
“No—I only been here a couple of months.Got a job with me mate’s dad.Brickie.”Gods, Si, stop talking about your boring self.“Uh, what do you do?”
Zig shrugged.“This and that.C’mon.Let’s get out of the crush.We’ll have our drinks and then you can show me what moves you’ve got.”
“You mean, like, dancing?”
Zig grinned.“That as well if you like.”
Si’s heart was beating louder than the bass from the speakers.
After they’d finished their drinks, they danced—Si horribly conscious of every single one of his limbs, none of which seemed to be moving in time with the music.And they’d had more drinks, and then they’d kissed, and it had been nothing like kissing Lucy Mansfield, nothing at all.It’d been like someone was setting fireworks off in Si’s head—and in other parts of him too.He’d wanted to punch the air, yell outYesandGet in thereand other stuff he’d only ever heard people say before.
He hadn’t cared about Adam finding other blokes to dance with, to drink with.And when the place had closed, and they’d had to leave, Zig came with him, pushed him up against a wall, and kissed him until he didn’t know which way was up.
(Except he did, cos, well, part of him was pointing that way pretty emphatically.)
And then Zig said, “Better let you go.Your mate’s getting well impatient.Maybe I’ll see you again, yeah?”
Si didn’t want to let him go.“Next—next Saturday?You’ll be here?”He couldn’t keep the pleading out of his voice.
Zig grinned.“You take care,” he said, and left.
