‘Your mind games will cost you. You only get threequestions.’
‘Three more than a minute ago. Alright, first, did you choose Loris for his name, because of King Hugo?’
Charles glances at the screen where their goalkeeper is shown yelling orders at the defenders. ‘No… I didn’t choose him. Or any of it. It just happened. He happened, but… as a person. Not as… Not as a—’
‘Not as a massive-pill owner, I hear you.’
Charles shoots him a stern look. George is an idiot. And a genius.
He’s Charles’ idiotic genius.
His reluctance to talk about his personal revolution was about himself and the introspection he would have to launch into – like the conclusion he just worded when he had never consciously conducted the analysis. Deep down, Charles knew that George wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at the news. Yet, this umpteenth proof of his friend’s unconditional acceptance hits him right in the part of his heart that was already overflowing with gratitude.
‘Is he the reason why you’re pushing aside your troubling family mess?’
‘Yes, but… not because I’m troubled already. He’s not troubling me anymore. At least, for now.’
‘And you want to surf on your beatific vibe? I approve completely. Surf away! Which leads me to my third question. How long have you been taming that wave? I’m cross-referencing data, and your brain fuckery at Elsy’s party had something to do with what was going on in your pants. And if I’m right, I’ll be a teeny bit offended that you didn’t— Yeeeeees!’ George jumps to his feet. ‘I missed it again, but yes, boys! Time out, Chaphrodite! Hold those thoughts that will give me eleven answers at once!’
Charles smiles and shifts to watch the replay of Tottenham’s second goal.
Assuaging his friend’s curiosity will require more talking than hewas ready for, but he won’t take George for granted ever again.
George, who’s aware how big a deal this is, but makes it seem so small and simple.
‘Then I came here and… You know everything.’
Charles sinks deeper in the sofa, even though he feels incredibly lighter.
George taps his chin with his forefinger, processing the information he just received. He only interrupted Charles twice. Once to swear when Tottenham conceded a goal, once with a ‘You didn’t…’ when Charles admitted to using a voice note to sever all contact with Loris.
‘Good grief, you had very opaque blinkers on.’
‘I’m fifty percent denial of anything that can throw me off, fifty percent Ledwell born and raised.’
‘Are you?’ George sniggers for a second, then claps his hands as his eyes open wide. ‘Oh dear, your parents. When will you tell them?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Can I be there if I hide in a cupboard? I can’t miss that! Loris is a male, he’s French and he works in a pub. I know you didn’t choose him, but it’s wondrous! The reason why your father will have a stroke is a no-brainer, but your mother? We should place bets here! My money is on the bartender thing. Alice would rather you dated a duke than a waitress and—’
‘Stop!’ Charles hits George in the face with his empty bottle. ‘Stop talking!’
‘What? I’m only—’
‘Fucking me up!’
George’s excitement evaporates in an instant. ‘How so?’
‘I’m not telling my parents! I’m not telling anyone! But certainly not myparents. Because he… Loris, he’s… He’s not a mean to get back at them for the mess I don’t want to get into. And I’m not dating him! I don’t know what’s going on, I’m— I can’t name what I feel, I don’t know how he feels. He might have come back to his senses when I see him again. I might screw it all up, being me. So perhaps there’ll be nothing to tell. But I don’t want to go there either, I just want to—’
‘I’m sorry!’ George sits next to Charles and clasps his no-pen-clicking hand. ‘I got carried away! It’s fine. You’re alright. No, you’re more than alright, you’re ecstatic. You sounded so ecstatic when you alluded to what happened this morning. That’s where you should be surfing. Ignore me.’
‘You’re hugging now?’
‘Now, just now, because I’m sorry and also proud. I’m so proud you listened to your paracetamol pill. So surf away, think of Loris with or without clothes, and let me know if I should leave you alone. Mate, this jumper is so soft, where does it come from?’
‘Loris’ wardrobe.’
