“Pizza! From The Nice Slice just up the road.”
“Oh, I know that place. It’s right by my flat.” I think about it for half a second. “Fine, deal, but it has to be with someone else. I don’t want to go back over there.” Not after I made myself look like a right prat.
“Any guy. Kiss any guy or get any guy’s number and I’ll buy you pizza.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
And I pretend my entire body doesn’t erupt in goosebumps at his touch. “Let’s go onto the dance floor.”
“Tattoo” by Loreen is playing, and the lights are turned way down low. It’s crowded, probably too crowded to pull off Lando’s “look and look away” moves, but I try. I try my fucking hardest.
Three, four, five guys later and still nothing. Meanwhile, men are falling over themselves to get closer to my companion. Lando waves each guy away like he’s an emperor with endless options—which, to be fair, yeah, he is.
“You’re not trying hard enough.” He has to yell it right in my ear because of the noise levels. His damp body is pressed against mine.
“I am! I’m doing everything I can. I’m obviously just shit at this.”
“No!” he shouts. “You have to really mean it. You have to want it, like fuckingyearnfor it.” Lando grabs my jaw and angles my face up to his. Hiseyes bore into mine. His brow furrows slightly in the centre. His mouth pops open, and the tiniest flash of tongue wets the crease of his lips before slipping back into the darkness.
My body is already responding, my heart rate increasing, my palms growing moist, my cock thickening.
Holy fucking crumpets, he’s good at this.
I do the same to him, except instead of holding his chin, I place my hands on either side of his face, and I stare into his eyes. “Like this?”
My memory slips back to the other night, when we were on his bed, and I imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t suffered from stage fright. I picture his knees up by his ears, and my cock buried deep inside his ass. I’m breathing too heavily, and maybe Lando’s not breathing at all because everything else in the bar seems to disappear, and suddenly I realise there’s only a foot gap between our faces.
I swallow and wet my lips, and now I don’t care about kissing another random guy from the bar.
It has to be Lando or no one.
And then I have an excellent idea.
I lean in closer still, on tippy toes to move my mouth next to his ear, and I whisper, “Babygirl.” I move backwards by a step so I can see his reaction.
Lando smiles, comprehension flashing over his features. “You absolute fucker,” he says, and moves his lips down onto mine.
There and then I decide I love kissing Lando. I can taste the sweetness of his high-sugar cola, and the gentle warmth of the booze. His kiss is beyond soft. His lips are like air. My fingers slide into his curls, and he grips my collar at the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
We break for air, our foreheads touching, our mouths centimetres apart.
“You’re really good at that,” he says, his chest rising and falling against mine.
“Thanks,” I reply. I don’t tell him I have to be the best at whatever I put my hand to. “Pizza’s on you, yeah?”
“Worth it.”
He kisses me again. We stand in the centre of the dance floor as it slowly empties, and kiss until the lights get switched on at three a.m.
And the pizza from The Nice Slice is incredible.
15
Saturday 17th May 2025
Lando
“Ineed a favour,” I say to Harry. “Well, two actually. And then we can do some more training if you like?”
Harry pauses his pint halfway to his mouth. His tongue pokes out the corner of his lips. “Go on.”
