“Cold?”
“Cold!” he just about yells at me. “That’s disgusting, August!”
“No, this—this is?—”
“Don’t you dare say this is disgusting.”
“Thisis disgusting!”
“Thisis… Oh my god. I’ve had just about enough of your universe already, with your too much coffee, and you dating rock stars, and you and your…” He waves his hand back and forth as if he’s indicating… pretty much all of me. “All this about you, with your muscles and your perfect skin, and you not evenrealising…”
A sharp wisp of air sucks over my teeth. I have absolutely nothing to say to all that, so it sits thickly, swirling in my chest, until he cuts back in with a loud and blusteringly humorous, “And if you dare tell me no one drinks hot Coke in this universe, I think I’ll lose it entirely. I can’t take one more thing. It’s only been two days with you, and I can’t take another thing. Drink it.”
“I can’t drink tha?—”
“Drink it!”
“No!”
“Drink it now, or I’m leaving. Leaving this whole universe. Somehow. I’m going to go, open a portal to some superior dimension, and?—”
“Fine! Look. I’ll drink it.” The words are out of my mouth before I even know what I’ve done, and half a second later he’s shoving the mug at me.
Brown and warm, the bubbles are enormous and slow moving.
Then August. His smile’s still sly, but confident. Encouraging.
Is he making fun of me? Maybe this is a joke.
“Cheers?” He grabs his mug and taps it against mine, and with that simple action, I’m left with no choice. You can’t not drink after a cheers. It’s basic etiquette.
I lift it to my lips. But this time, I’m prepared for the sweetness. The thick and syrupy texture of it. The bubbles are gentle, not the fizzy onslaught of cold Coke. And I hate to say it, but?—
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he provides for me. And he’s so pleased. It’s like last night when he bought me that two-hundred-year-old beer. And it’s like when he saw me this morning, when he was waiting outside my flat. Or when I saw him. Or whatever conjunction of happenings that was that made me stop dead on the stairs when I came across that smile. Some sweet and excited energy radiating from him, so refreshing.
Refreshing like an ice-cold Coke.
But comforting like a hot Coke.
And in what must be a matter of seconds, I realise I’d forgotten all about Jon and how upset I was. August’s here now, and he’s taken all my attention, all my affection. And even though he’s found out my terrible secret, he’s genuinely so non-judgmental about it. Which is funny, because I’ve been judgingmyself over this for so long now. “It’s really nice. Not what I expected.”
The second half of that sentence has his gaze intensifying on me. “What did you expect?”
My mouth feeling a little dry, I take another sip. “I didn’t know to expect it at all, I guess.”
“I’m sorry I gave you a shock.” His eyes are soft behind those cute glasses, like his voice. I wonder if he can tell that my heart’s beating this fast.
Is he talking about the same hidden topic I’ve slipped onto, inadvertently and automatically? Because it’s not as though I can say what I’m thinking to him. That I find him delightful. Attractive. Totally different from everything else in my world. “It all worked out okay.”
Head down, what I’m sure is a light flush on his cheeks, he shuffles up the couch, closer to me. He reaches out, and just for a second, I think he’s going to touch me—wrap his long fingers around my thigh—and my muscles barely contract in time to stop myself shifting forward in the hope of meeting him.
Just as well, too, because he’s only bringing his mug along with him.
This is so embarrassing. I would literally kill to have him touch me like that. Not sure who, but I could imagine up a substantial hit list if I could get those fingers where I want them in exchange.
My mind’s going places it shouldn’t be.
I don’t want to, Ican’tget feelings for myself, of all people. It’s utterly ridiculous for a start, but all that stuff he was saying about my universe not being big enough for the two of us…
