Oliver pushes down the little prickly feeling that suggests his manhood is being questioned in favor of the pleased one that Leo seems to like him that way.
“That’ll be Maggie,” he admits, in the interest of fairness. “She told all the decorators what to do before I even finished the paperwork.”
Leo doesn’t respond immediately, reapplying himself to the leftovers and munching for a moment.
“Maggie’s your ex?”
Oliver nods, eyes on the tea towel. It’s convenient that everyone in his life usually knows this by default, which saves him from having to explain the precise nature of their relationship and directly lie about the breakup. He feels under scrutiny about it now.
“It doesn’t bother you, to live somewhere where she picked everything out?” Leo asks, still not looking at him.
“She’s not that kind of ex,” Oliver hedges. “I hadn’t really ever thought about it that way.” Leo’s eyes snap up and he gives him a look that says,I’m not buying it.But he doesn’t press, only shrugs and finally gives up on picking the plates clean. “I can make something else, since I’ve obviously starved you,” Oliver says. “Growing boy.”
That gets a laugh out of Leo, even if it comes with an eye roll.
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Leo says. “Forgive me for fighting food waste.”
“I swear I have some contraband sweets around here somewhere. Give us a minute, I’ll hunt for chocolate.” Oliver knows exactly where the chocolate is: third shelf of the pantry, right-hand side, in a basket hidden under the muesli. He gives himself a break anyway, stepping inside the oversized cupboard and poking around the bins and boxes, quashing the feeling that he was put on the spot and gave the wrong answer a moment ago. They’re friends, real friends, but he can’t tell Leo the truth about this one. He especially can’t tellhim. It would be so obvious on his face—how Oliver feels, what he wants—if those walls were ever breached, even for a second.
He steps back into the kitchen with half a Dairy Milk and nearly drops it.Speak of the devil,he thinks, wretchedly.
“I let myself in,” Maggie says. She’s standing just at the top of the entryway, carrying a cardboard box that reaches up to her chin. Oliver sneaks a glance over at Leo and finds the knowing look he expected, cut with something darker, almost angry.
“We were just talking about you,” Oliver says, regretting it instantly. “Is that—”
“It’s the piece I set aside for your mum,” she replies, holding it outstretched. Oliver steps forward to take it and promptly lowers it to the ground, feeling idiotic.
“Doorbell not working?” he asks. Maggie’s eyes are huge and trepidatious. “Come here a second.” With that, he swiftly deposits them both back into the pantry and yanks the door shut after them. He can see the joke forming on her lips. “If you say one thing about a closet, I’m going to kill you.”
“Jesus, Ollie! I’m not going to say anything! You know I wouldn’t tell.”
“What do you mean?” Oliver asks, confused.
“If anyone was going to find out, aren’t you glad it’s me? I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”
“Say anything aboutwhat? We’re just having dinner!” he snaps.
“Oh, sure,” Maggie replies, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I always look likeThe Suncaught me skinny-dipping in the canal when someone finds me having my casual friend over for a normal dinner.”
“Mags, I’ll do anything you want for the rest of our lives, if you’ll just besilent,” he pleads. “You and I are friends, not together. Me and Leo are friends too. Everyone is mates, yeah? No one has feelings for anybody. But ah, fuck, don’t say anything about feelings at all. Please do not make this weird.”
“Ollie!” she snaps, as close to a yell as a whisper can get. “You are the one making this weird! If you don’t want him to know what’s going on, why are you afraid he’ll think we’re together?” Oliver shakes his head, but she whips her right hand out and slaps it over his mouth before he can respond, gagging him. “Don’t answer that. We both know why.”
He tries in vain to free himself by licking at her palm, but she holds firm.
“Breathe through your nose,” she advises. “I’m going to leave now and I won’t say another word. Try not to have an aneurysm.” She leaves Oliver dumbstruck and the door swinging on its hinges behind her, walking past Leo with only a nod goodbye. Oliver is too stunned to move until the sound of her footsteps and the sight of her plaid trench coat recede down the front stairwell.
His spirit is floating somewhere around the ceiling, looking down helplessly while his body is in motion and stepping back into the kitchen, though it looks all wrong—he’s not certain he’s ever been here before. Leo is standing just where Oliver left him, leaning against the island, but now his arms are tightly crossed over his abdomen. His easy face, handsome and readable, has gone tight.
“Hey,” Oliver says to announce his return, since Leo’s eyes are locked to the floor. “I’m sorry about that. She should’ve knocked.”
“Well, I guess she’s not that kind of ex,” Leo bites out.
“Whoa, easy—” Oliver starts to say.
“ ‘Don’t want him to know what’s going on.’ ‘We both know why,’ ” he quotes, cutting Oliver off midsentence. His tone is dripping with antagonism, his lip curled up almost like a snarl. “You do talk your shit, don’t you? All this time, I thought—”
“Mate, when you eavesdrop, you don’t always hear what you think you do,” Oliver says frantically, but Leo takes a step toward him that feels threatening.
