‘Fine, Loris and I will discuss the Arsenal-fan effect this guy has on you another time. Joking aside, I’m sorry about your knees.’
‘Thanks, but I’m over it, no worries. Now, something I’d love to relive every week… Charles taking me toSofia.’
‘You’d go through the encounter with my father again?’
‘Oh, yeah. The entire time we spent in that room was sensational.’
Charles takes a swallow of whisky as the innuendo burns his cheeks. Luckily, he didn’t specify locations when he gave his friend a tipsy summary of his sexual discoveries. George probably believes that Loris is only referring to the painting, because that’s what he picks up on without noticing the heat emanating from the next stool.
‘Have you settled your argument by the way? Who’s right about the autobiography?’
‘We might agree to disagree forever.’ Back next to them, Loris rests his hand on Charles’ waist underneath his shirt. ‘At the end of the day, it’s a matter of interpretation.’
‘And Loris and I aren’t wired the same way.’
Twice, they tried to have a serious conversation aboutThe Mind of Wondersnow that Loris has resumed reading it. Twice, it rapidly evolved into a trade of breaths and caresses, as it appears the debate turns them on.
George clicks his tongue. ‘That’s bloody boring. Should I referee the question for you?’
‘By all means. Read Pavel’s book, study the sixLandsand get back to us.’
‘Now that I think about it, I’ll be too busy doing anything but that. You guys should arm-wrestle it. Actually, no. You’re a rugby coach who lifts kegs, you’d crush Charles, and let’s be honest, I’ll always root for him. You could race. No, not fair on you, Loris. Unless I race for you? That could work. But then who would I root for? Tricky.’
‘As you can tell, I haven’t found the switch to turn him off.’
Charles gets a kick in the tibia in return.
For twenty minutes, George doesn’t spare his blushes, but Charles enjoys reminiscing about awkward anecdotes from their youth andintroducing this side of him to Loris.
When Hannah texts George that she’s at his flat, he decides to leave, worried she could fly back to Hungary if he keeps her waiting.
‘I get the appeal,’ he says in a low voice, opening the pub’s door. ‘The way he fills up those jeans is unfair.’
Charles cackles, glancing at the jeans in question as they edge back behind the counter. ‘Thank you for making this happen.’
‘Sorry if I brought a bit of chaos with me.’
‘That’s your trademark, I wasn’t expecting anything less.’
George waves over Charles’ shoulder, pulls up his collar and whirls around to disappear into the dark and misty night.
‘You can lock up. Unless you’re expecting another guest?’
Charles blocks the latch closed. ‘I’m not. And I hope it’s alright that I brought—’
‘Come with me.’
‘Where?’
Loris points to the back area with an expression that still feels like a hug, except this one doesn’t involve any clothes. Charles hastens to join him, but once behind the bar, he stands still to observe the pub between the handles of two beer taps.
‘So this is how you see the world?’
‘Charles.’
‘Yes, sorry.’
He takes a mental screenshot of Loris’ daily vantage point and follows him into an office the size of his bathroom. The only thing keeping the desk from collapsing under the weight of an ancestral computer and dozens of bursting binders is the antique safe stuck underneath it.
