“Not the point, and you’re welcome.” Jumbo crossed the room with the sandwich and pressed it into Shay’s hand.
Standard MO would’ve been for him to launch it across the room, so Shay was willing to bet he still looked like warmed-up shit.
“You need anything else?” Jumbo asked.
Shay started to answer, then realised Jumbo was talking to Ollie.
Nice.And he wasn’t even being sarcastic. Smuggler’s Beat were a tight-knit group, and they took care of each other. That they were willing to leave Shay’s babysitting to Ollie said a lot.They like him.
It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
Jumbo left, probably to hit the town. Shay inhaled the sandwich and checked his levels again.Bonza. He was back in business. And Ollie was still with him, still crouched at Shay’s feet, staring up at him like he was the only man in the world.
It was insane how radically their dynamic had shifted since Ollie had gifted Shay that tiny glimpse of himself. Nothing had really changed, but at the same time, it had changed everything. Shay looked at Ollie and saw a different man. AndOlliewas different. Calmer, perhaps. Less intense, unless they were talking about the TV project. Then he turned crazy serious, and Shay’s blood ran even hotter for him. “Um… what do you want to do now?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” Shay stretched his legs out in front of him. “The bus isn’t leaving until the morning, so we could go for a drink if you want?”
Ollie pulled a face that took ten years off him. “It would turn into ten drinks, trust me, and I’m trying not to self-medicate.”
“It’s not easier if you’re unconscious when the bus is moving?”
“You’d think it would be, but no. I’ve never managed to stay asleep for an entire journey, and it gets into my dreams. There’s nothing like waking up sweating on a packed tour bus. You can trust me on that too.”
Shay had only seen Ollie asleep once. They’d come back from rehearsal to find him knocked out on his bed, surrounded by books and work. The others hadn’t paid much attention, but it had hurt Shay’s heart. He’d drawn the curtain around Ollie to give him some privacy, and spent the next few hours staring at the tiny gap he’d missed. “So… no partying and eating shitty food. We can just go to bed if you want—uh—I mean, head back to the bus?”
Ollie smirked. “I know what you meant. And I’m pretty knackered, if you don’t mind calling it a night?”
Shay couldn’t deny the disappointment that sank through him. He hadn’t seen much of Ollie since their time at the library, and with no one else around now, he’d been counting on some time alone with him. But still. Corina had booked herself into a hotel, and Smugs—the driver—had the night off. Chances were the bus would be deserted. “Let’s go.”
They meandered back to the bus, taking time out for Ollie to smoke. The bus was parked around the back of the gig venue, next to the Forth and Clyde Canal. In daylight, it was pretty, sunlight dappling the water through the trees. At night it was murky and bleak, and Shay felt safer with Ollie by his side.
As predicted, the bus was empty. Shay went to his bunk and checked his sugar levels again, then took a shot of insulin to last him through the night. In his peripheral vision, he tracked Ollie as he went to his own bunk, grabbed a towel and a change of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.
That was something else he’d noticed about Ollie as the tour had progressed. While the others—even Mara—had given up on any idea of privacy, often roaming the aisle in their pyjamas, Ollie was rarely seen without his shoes on, let alone lacking anything else.Does he sleep in his clothes?Shay had no idea.
He changed into the soft sweatpants he slept in, and his favourite Charlatans T-shirt. He’d cut the sleeves off a few years ago, leaving it little more than a scraggly vest, but he’d kept it to wind up his mum and couldn’t bear to chuck it now.
Ollie emerged from the bathroom wearing a hoodie and jogging bottoms, his damp hair sticking up in every direction. He looked rumpled and gorgeous, and Shay couldn’t bear the thought of him disappearing into his bunk.
As though he’d read Shay’s mind, Ollie dumped his dirty clothes, dug his laptop from his bag, and came to Shay’s bedside. “I’ve got some films downloaded if you’re not tired enough to sleep yet. What are you into?”
Shay’s heart leapt. He tossed his medical bag under his bunk and scooted over, making room for Ollie to sit down.
Ollie perched on the edge of the bed, which wasn’t quite what Shay had in mind, but it would do… for now.
With the laptop positioned between them, they scrolled through the films on Ollie’s hard drive. “Thought you said you had a few?” Shay opened a folder with another fifty or so movies stashed in it, all categorised by genre—apparently, Ollie was tidier with his virtual belongings than his physical ones. “There’s hundreds on here.”
Ollie offered a sheepish shrug. “It’s my thing. At least I don’t have to cart them around like the dozen or so instruments you have. And those are just what you’ve brought on tour with you. How many guitars do you have at home?”
“Actually, I only have a couple of guitars in my house.”
Ollie cocked his head sideways. “Sounds like a technicality to me.”
“If you say so.” Shay kept his eyes on the screen. “Do mandolins count?”
“Yes. So do banjos, ukuleles, and any other interpretation I haven’t thought of.”
