“The sofa folds out into a bed.”
“So you have to make and unmake it every day?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. My bed’s lucky if I put the quilt back into place every morning.” He blushed slightly. “And now you probably think I’m a slob.”
“I was the same, but you can’t live like that in such a tiny space.”
“Darling, you haven’t seen my studio. It takes tiny to a whole new level.”
Callum raised his eyebrows. “It’s smaller than this?”
“Oh yes. But it’s perfect. You should come over and see it,” Dylan said, before he could tell himself it was too forward a suggestion.
“I’d like that.”
Dylan felt warm and fuzzy inside. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t how things normally went when he fancied a man, especially one who claimed not to be interested in him. He was a love them and leave them kind of guy, not someone who went on platonic narrowboat rides.
Callum pointed to the deck. “That’s where Ezra was suggesting we sit.”
Dylan looked at it doubtfully. “Should we go back outside?” He pointed back up the boat, the way they’d come.
They hadn’t set off yet, so they could get back onto the tow path and then hop back on the boat again.
“Nah, just take your boots off.”
Callum tugged his own boots off and then stepped onto the bed. “Are you coming?”
Dylan would have loved to be on a bed with Callum. Naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. Fucking would have been even better. He tried to scrub his mind clean of the mental image but failed. Apparently, he wasn’t good at the platonic thing. Nonetheless, he took his boots off and joined Callum in walking over the bed to get out onto the front deck. After they’d put their boots back on, Callum closed the door behind them, giving them both space to sit and lean with their backs against the boat.
It was a nice day, warm enough that it was easy to forget that it was autumn and not summer.
“Are you ready?” Ezra called from the other end of the boat.
Callum answered by holding his thumb up. A few minutes later, the engine rumbled to life, Ezra pushed them away from the mooring, and they began to drift along the canal at a leisurely pace. Dylan closed his eyes and let the breeze created by the boat’s movement caress his face. At first, they were surrounded by the tall buildings and flats on the edge of the city centre. It was weird seeing Leeds from the water; somehow, the city looked more impressive.
“This is lovely,” he said. “I can see why your uncle likes living on a boat.”
“Did you want to see the photos of what it used to look like, before he renovated it?”
Dylan nodded. He waited as Callum opened the door and leaned inside, giving Dylan a great view of his arse. It was a short-lived experience because Callum grabbed the photo album quickly, shut the door, and leant against the boat again.
“I didn’t think people still had photo albums,” Dylan said dryly.
“Nor did I.” Callum laughed. “All my photos are on my phone.”
“Same.”
Callum handed the photo album to Dylan. Dylan balanced the book on his knees, slowly turning the pages.
“It was…dark.”
It must have been oppressive as hell inside before it had been renovated. The wood had been dark, and the prevalent colour theme was green and red—inside and out.
“How long did it take Ezra to do it up?”
Callum shrugged. “A year or so, I think. He calls it his ‘labour of love’. He did most of it himself.”
