I scowled at Lucky, my housemate. Since when had he cared about the sad state of my social life? His tendency to mind his own business was why I’d offered him a room in my place, but things had changed in the year we’d been living together. We’d grown closer, become friends, and apparently that meant he had an opinion on everything.
And apparent immunity to my best attempt at a glare.
I sighed and glanced at Dom, Lucky’s fella, for backup. It was usually a pretty safe bet, but Dom was buried in his laptop, his handsome face twisted in a frown, oblivious to my plight.
“Go on,” Lucky needled. “You never know, you might hook up.”
“With who? One of my new step-aunt’s twelve evil sisters? Or her knobhead cousins that spit when they talk?”
Lucky laughed. “Does it matter? It’s been so long I reckon you could go either way.”
“Twat.” It was a good job Lucky was as bisexual as me, or I’d have decked him for that—maybe. Because the truth was, he had a point. When I was younger, swinging both ways had been to my advantage—there was always someone to catch my eye. These days, I just wasn’t interested, no matter the packaging, and the prospect of my own company for the evening was too tempting to ignore. Only the risk of offending my ever-growing extended family made me consider the invitation stuck to the fridge.Maybe Lucky can come with me.But I nixed the idea pretty quick. Lucky and Dom were joined at the hip, and Dom was less social than me.
With a heavy sigh, I branded them both wankers and trudged upstairs to ditch my sweatpants for jeans, put a shirt on, and do absolutely nothing with my scruffy hair.
I left the house and made the half-mile walk to my uncle’s favourite boozer.
The party was in full swing. My family had taken up most of the front bar, intent on getting lashed in honour of Uncle Sid’s fifth marriage. I showed my face, dodged his wife’s sloppy kisses, then retreated to the back bar with a pint of Murphy’s and prayed no one else found me.Idiot, then you should’ve stayed home.But I hadn’t. I’d listened to Lucky, and now I was propping up a Tottenham bar on my tod, wishing myself anywhere but here.
It was times like these when my mind tended to wander, to take a trip down memory lane and pour acid into my chest. I drank half my pint in one swallow and pulled out my phone to distract myself, but the news app was depressing, and I didn’t do social media. Fuck that shit.
I glanced at the TV. The football was on—Dom’s former team, in fact. I followed the match until the end of the first half, but the sound was muted, so no amount of staring at the pundits gave me any relief. That left people watching. In a boozer like this, I was usually limited to drunk old men, a glimpse into the future perhaps, but a sweep of the bar turned up something—someone—who made me look twice.
Jesus. When was the last time I’d seen someone likehimsitting in a dog shite pub? In fact, when was the last time I’d seen someone like him anywhere? To get a better look, I took a seat on a nearby stool, angling my body so I could surreptitiously study him, a thrill I couldn’t explain rippling through me. He was compact and lean, not much broader than Lucky, who made me appear big. Sinewy legs were encased in tatty skinny jeans, set off by combat boots and a bomber jacket with a hoodie underneath. Perfectly scruffy, all set off by the coolest black-framed glasses I’d ever seen. But it wasn’t his clothes that really got me going, it washim. Dark hair, dark eyes, flawless skin. Stubble just thick enough to be a legitimate beard. God, he was gorgeous.
So gorgeous, I couldn’t stop staring, so naturally he caught me when he glanced up from theEvening Standarda few minutes later.Busted. But somehow I still couldn’t tear my gaze from him. For a long moment, he stared back, his eyes blank, expression unreadable, then a grin lit his face, warming his features like the sweetest sunset.
I grinned back, cocking my head to one side, signalling the stool beside me. Tottenham boozers weren’t often ripe for picking up blokes, but what did I have to lose? Worst case scenario, he’d ignore me and go back to his newspaper.
He dropped onto the stool a moment later. “Please tell me your come to bed eyes are legit, cos if you’re fucking with me, I’ll break your legs.”
I snorted, stout bubbling up my nose. “Try.”
“Try what? Decking you or picking you up?”
“Either, though I’m more down with the last suggestion.”
“The first is irrelevant then, eh?”
“I reckon so.”
It was the strangest introduction I’d had in a while. Lacking any better ideas, I bought more alcohol and slid a pint along the bar to my new companion. “What’s your name?”
“Rae. You?”
“Cash.”
“Sounds like a cowboy name.”
“I’m a mechanic, so perhaps I am.”
“Nah. You’ve got honest eyes.”
“That right?”
Rae sipped his pint. “Yeah. I can always spot a liar.”
Lucky him, but I ignored the flash of hurt and focussed on him. With him so close, I realised he smelled as good as he looked. Like wood-smoke and trees. The scent took me back to the one place I’d truly been myself. To happy memories untainted by despair and regret. I wanted to bury my face in his neck.
