“I’m Marcello.” I stick my hand out not knowing why I want to break the physical connection and eye contact that stretches between them, but I do.
Jeremy, being the polite gentleman he seems to be -the fucker- drops Giles’ hand for mine.
“Pleasure to meet you too, Marcello,” he says and then his smile drops. “Oh, wait, have I misunderstood?” His finger points at me and then at Giles. “Are you… together?”
Giles snorts into his coffee and I turn to look at him. When I see him chuckling to himself I feel something I can't name but don't like. Disappointment? Shame? Foolishness?
Does Giles really find it that ridiculous that somebody would think we’re together? Is he embarrassed by me?
As soon as I ask the question, I have the answer. Of course he wouldn’t go out with someone like me with my bruschetta belly and fitness levels of a slug on downers. He may have said nice things about me to my face, but that’s because he’s a nice guy. Of course he doesn’t fancy me.
Not that Iwanthim to fancy me.
“We’re not together, no,” I say and force a smile on my face. “Just training buddies.”
“Yeah, just gym buddies,” Giles confirms and gives me a look I can’t read. “Marcello’s training for a triathlon.”
Jeremy’s face opens up with surprise and I search for the shock and the horror in it, but instead I, annoyingly, only find a vague look of him being impressed with the idea.
“Good for you,” he says to me with another one of his blinding smiles. Then he turns to Giles. “So, does that mean I can get your number?”
Again, Giles looks at me and I can’t figure out why. I also don’t know why, but as his eyes meet mine, I give him a little nod of encouragement.
“Sure,” Giles says, but his voice is tight, tense.
I focus all my attention on downing the rest of my cappuccino as Giles stands to pull out his phone and they both go about the swapping numbers. As they do, I try to tame the discomfort I feel. Giles is allowed to swap numbers with a good-looking guy. Giles is a single man, a single queer man and I am a single straight guy. I’m his training buddy. He’s not going to stop working out with me just because he’s going to go on a date with Jeremy who looks so much more like Giles’ type than… Than who? Me?
I feel my body temperature change.
Am I attracted to Giles?
No. No, I’m not. I’m just feeling possessive over somebody who is fast becoming something like a good friend. A friend I enjoy hanging out with, even when it’s in the gym or on a sweaty run. It’s been a long time since I spent so much time with a friend like this and I… I like it. I like hanging out with Giles.
I don’t like Giles.
I mean, I do like Giles. I just don’tlikehim like that.
I think…
“You okay?” Giles’ voice interrupts my internal crisis and my eyes jump up to his. Jeremy has gone and taken his shadow with him, meaning I have to squint a little as the sun shines fiercely down on us.
“Yeah,” I say and I replace my mug after realising I’ve been staring at its empty contents for far too long. “He seemed nice.”
Giles’ moustache twitches and not in the good way, not in the smiling way. “Yeah, I guess.”
“For a man who just got picked up on the street, you don’t seem particularly pleased about it,” I say and whatever I’m feeling – rightly or wrongly – this is still true. I don’t think I’ve ever been picked up on the street, at least not in the last decade.
“I’m not pissed off about it.” Giles shifts in his chair and offers me a rueful smile. “I just don’t think it will come to anything so, what’s the point, you know?”
“Err, did you see the same guy I saw? The one who could have just jogged his way off a catwalk?”
“He was very attractive,” Giles concedes.
“So, you’ll call him?” I prompt and immediately ignore the little sting I feel in my gut.Porca merda, am I jealous?
“Maybe,” Giles says and he tucks his phone out of sight and I take it as a sign that he wants to end this conversation and frankly, that’s fine with me. The quicker we get away from what just happened, and the thoughts that just danced their way around my head like they were doing the fucking Riverdance on my neural pathways, the better. “Anyway, speaking of dating,” Giles continues and I inwardly groan. “Have you downloaded an app like you said you would?”
I wince. “No, not yet.”
