“No, mate. I’m deadly serious about this fucking ridiculous conversation. It’s not like I haven’t told you that I want somespace.”
“You didn’t tell me shit. You toldEddie.”
“Samething.”
“Is it? Last time I checked, we were still individuals, and it ain’t Eddie you’ve been best mates with for all theseyears.”
Reality began to creep into Dylan’s drunken haze. In the rare moments when he hadn’t been obsessing over Angelo, he’d felt guilty for explaining himself to Sam through his girlfriend, but not enough to do anything about it?—like pick up thephone.
He stared at Sam, suddenly hit by all that they’d shared, good and bad. They’d worked together at Sam’s grandfather’s greasy spoon and cried together when Sam’s beloved grandmother had finally died. They’d partied all over London?—Sam keeping Dylan company on the many,manynights he justcouldn’tsleep?—and survived the times Dylan had scraped Sam off the kitchen floor and nursed him out of a diabetic coma. Didn’t Sam deserve better than a second-hand phone call? “I’msorry.”
Some of the fight left Sam and he sank onto the bench beside Dylan. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be okay. You know I’d never hurt you, don’tyou?”
“Of course.” It was true. Sam had never lied to Dylan or led him on. Dylan had walked into everything that had happened between them with his eyes open. “I’m just not as okay with it as I used tobe.”
“Whynot?”
Now there was a question. Dylan wrestled with his beer-addled brain and tried to verbalise a coherent answer. “I guess seeing you and Eddie so happy reminds me of what I don’thave.”
“You want agirlfriend?”
Dylan shrugged. “I’m more into lads at the moment, but I do know that I’m pretty tired of sleepingalone.”
“Then stop banging people in sex clubs and get out into the realworld?—?”
“Hey?—?”
“Don’t.” Sam held up his hand. “You always end up going mad in that place when you’ve got a cob on about shit, so don’t even try to denyit.”
“You sound mad northern rightnow.”
“I’m from Leeds. Deal with it.” Sam ditched the fierceness he’d arrived with. “Look, I get what you’re saying, okay? And you know there’s been times when I’ve wished things were different, but I can’t change who Iam.”
“I know that. I’ve never asked youto.”
“Then what do you want fromme?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Dylan shrugged again. “Well, I suppose I could go for some pierogi next time Pops is makingsome.”
Sam’s glower returned like it had never been gone. “That’s not what Imeant.”
“I know, but it’s all I have right now, and I’m hungry,so...”
Sam sighed, defeat seeping out of him like smoke from a dying fire. “If I buy you a kebab, will you promise to stop dodging my calls? I respect that you need to take a step back, but I can’t handle worrying about you. You’re my best mate, and I missyou.”
“I miss you too.” Another inconvenient truth. It would’ve been easier if Sam had rejected him, turned him down that first time they’d shared a drunken kiss, and they’d never spoken of it again. But it hadn’t played out that way. Sam was the best friend Dylan had ever had, and life without him washard. “Can we get battered sausagesinstead?”
Sam finally smiled. “Sure.”
* * *
It wasthe wanker side of midnight by the time Dylan made it home from Stratford. After a sneaky fried dinner with Sam, they’d taken the scenic route to the station via a few more pubs. At moments, it had felt like old times?—like nothing had changed?—but when they’d parted ways, they’d both seemed to know that it would be longer than two weeks before they saw each otheragain.
At home, Dylan threw himself onto his bed. His night had taken an unexpected turn, and despite sinking even more beer after Sam had tracked him down in his favourite Stratford haunt, he felt surprisingly sober.Fuck mylife.
