Sam sighed again and flopped back on the couch. “I know you think the world has seen enough of you to last just about forever, but that doesn’t mean you should hide away for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“No? When was the last time you went anywhere that wasn’t my place of work or yours?”
“Yesterday. I went to the hospital for a ‘wellbeing check’ on my mental health.”
“I meant somewhere you wanted to go.”
“I did want to go there. It’s good for me to know I’m doing okay.”
Sam closed his eyes. “Don’t be so fucking awkward. I mean fun stuff, Micah. Like, social stuff. Even going out with Freddie Fuckwit has got to be better than watching me pull pints every night.”
I didn’t watch Sam workeverynight, but I got the feeling that arguing with him right now would get me nowhere, even though I wanted with all my heart for him to shut the fuck up. “You want me to go out with Freddie? Cos he asked me the other night.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I’m a washed-up queer with a bum leg and zero interest in caning it in some fuckhead titty club. I’d rather go to the library with you.”
“Really?” Sam’s left eye slid open. “Because I’ll totally make you go.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. I need to get some stuff for my course.”
“Fine by me.”
“Don’t joke about the library, Micah. It’s my church.”
“I’m not joking.”
Sam cracked both his eyes and sat up. “Are you serious? You’re going to loaf it into town with me to the library and pick your own damn books for a change?”
“It’s three minutes down the road, fam. And don’t be acting like I’ve never gone there with you before.”
“Like, once. Six months ago, when you first moved in, and only because you didn’t want to get caught in the rain.”
Sometimes I forgot it had been less than a year since my agent had done one last thing for me before we’d parted ways and found me a discreet and affordable flat-share. In reality, I could’ve bought Sam’s grandparents’ place twice over with the money I had left from the glory days—insert sarcasm—but renting his spare room had saved me from something I couldn’t describe. I’d go to the library with him every day for the rest of my life if he wanted me to. I owed him far more than that.
Sam
Micah liked the library. He might not have known it yet, but I did. And it made perfect sense. The library building was big enough to get lost in, but cosy enough that he could hide in the corner if he wanted to and no one would notice him. Not that anyone was lurking around the library expecting to see premiership football players checking out the crime fiction.
I left him with a stack of gangster novels and retreated to the English lit section. I found the annotated copy ofThe Kite RunnerI needed and dumped it on a nearby table.Tell me again why you thought going back to school to get your English A-level was a good idea?
Because I didn’t want to work in a fucking bar all my life. Or, at least, I hadn’t before I’d started. Now a future of pulling pints and mixing hipster G&Ts was looking decidedly favourable compared to the part-time course that was driving me up the wall.
I made notes for a full half hour before Micah came to find me. He was empty-handed. “Didn’t find anything you liked?”
“Nope. What are you reading?”
“The Kite Runner. It’s for my course.”
Micah flopped into the seat beside me and slid the book towards him. “Is it old?”
“Not really. It was published in 2003.”
“Huh. I thought you’d be doing Shakespeare or some shit.”
