It’s definitely my turn to cook.
After work I refuse Bernard’s offer of a pint and schlep to the shop nearest my place. It’s not as posh as the one Ludo uses. It caters to the handful of flats and bedsits rather than the bazillion listed cottages and mansions, but it’s got sausages—which IknowLudo likes—and frozen chips. Even I can’t fuck that up, right?
I’m starving, but I walk home vowing not to cook until Ludo arrives. Relief almost drowns me when I find him waiting on my doorstep. “All right, mate?”
He throws me a tired smile. “I am now. What did you get?”
“Bangers.” I hold my shopping bag up. “And chips. That okay?”
“Anything that isn’t hospital food is okay with me.”
I feel bad that I haven’t cooked for him before, but it’s hard to do something I know I’m shit at when he does it so much better. And he’s comfortable in the kitchen—his or mine. Relaxed. Happy. I’m addicted to watching him when he thinks I’m busy in the garden. The way he bites his lip when he’s peering into the pasta pot, messy hair in his eyes. I try not to think about the fact that he won’t touch a knife. To wonderwhywhen the reality is I already know, even if he hasn’t told me.
He might never tell me.
“Aidan?”
“Yeah?”
Ludo bites his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I’ve been a weirdo.”
“You’re not a weirdo.”
“Not true.”
“It is if you’re apologising for having mental health issues, mate. Fuck that noise.” I turn my back on him and open the door. It swings shut behind me, but Ludo catches it with his foot and follows me inside.
He doesn’t speak for ages, so I busy myself turning the oven on and searching for the baking trays he bought me a few weeks ago. It takes me far too long to remember that loaded silences freak him out.
It helps that I’m kind of stuck in a misguided crouch. I hold out my hand. “Can you help me up?”
Ludo comes to life in ways I can’t describe. He takes my outstretched hand and pries the other from the counter. I borrow his strength and balance as he hauls me to my feet, and somehow we end up nose-to-nose. In the murky depths of my mind I consider breaking every vow I’ve made about kissing him, but I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
I just stare at him and pray that one day soon,he’llkissme.
As though he can hear my thoughts, Ludo licks his lips, and I trace his tongue as it darts out in its fleeting sweep. I have never wanted someone so bad in my whole life. I’m hot. I’m cold. I’m shaking, and yet I’m frozen in place. Only my heart seems to move freely, and every thudding beat is for him.
Ludo squeezes his eyes shut. “I know I keep trying to explain inexplicable things, but you have to know how good you make me feel when you look at me like that.”
“Why are you closing your eyes then?”
“Because it scares me, Aidan. Everything does. Do you know how it feels to never be sure if you’re truly happy or sliding into mania? To distrust every emotion?”
Of course I don’t. I don’t have the first clue what it’s like to be Ludo, but I want to. I want to know everything he’s prepared to tell me.
Fuck it.I take a chance and press a soft kiss to his glorious cheekbone. “I don’t know how you feel, but I know howIfeel, and that scares me a bit too.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s brand new. I’m not used to liking people.”
Ludo snorts and opens his eyes. “You’re pretty likeable too, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Do you want bread and butter with your dinner?”
The standoff is over, and for once it’s a clean break. Ludo nods and releases his death grip on my hands. “For sure. I’ll do it.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse his help and pack him off to the couch, but he’s not me, so I give him things to do until our nursery dinner is ready.
