Rupert didn’t come back the next day or the day after that. In fact, it was nearly a fortnight before his name flashed up on Jodi’s phone. The message was short, sweet, and perfectly timed.Fancy a late night cuppa?
Hell yeah.
Jodi tapped out a reply, inviting Rupert to come over whenever he was ready, then shut down his computer and drifted to the bathroom to take a much needed shower. He’d been on a deadline for the last few days, and things like eating, sleeping, and washing had fallen by the wayside.
Dressed in trackies, hair still dripping, he emerged from the bathroom to another text.Twenty minutes.He glanced at the clock: 2 a.m. Jesus. How had that happened? Last time he’d checked, it had been nine o’clock and he’d been considering ordering pizza. Or was that yesterday? Shamefully, he had no idea.
He padded barefoot through the flat to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The contents were uninspiring, but he had enough bacon left for sarnies. Poaching about in his neglected salad drawer revealed some tired mushrooms too. He was tipping them into the sizzling bacon fat when the doorbell rang.
Jodi turned the hob down and went to the intercom. He buzzed the exterior door open, put the front door on the latch, and returned to the kitchen. Rupert’s shadow appeared in the doorway a few moments later.
“Bloody hell. Are you trying to kill me?”
Jodi laid bacon rashers on slices of thickly buttered white toast without looking up. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those gym freaks who only eats nuts and organic spinach smoothies?”
“Fuck no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you—” Jodi’s words died on his lips as he turned around to find Rupert leaning on the doorframe, dressed in softly worn tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie—a far cry from the all-black bouncer attire he’d been sporting last time—and totally fucking gorgeous. “What did you mean?”
Rupert stepped forward and touched Jodi’s damp hair. “I meantyou. I’ve spent the last week or so trying to convince myself you weren’t as fit as I remembered. Then I find you likethis.” Rupert shook his head. “Not cool, mate. Not cool.”
Jodi snorted. “I never claimed to be cool, but if it’s any consolation, you’re pretty fit yourself.”
Rupert flushed and looked away. The bloke was beautiful, but it was clear he wasn’t used to people—tomen—telling him so. Jodi took pity on him and let it go. “Wanna bacon sarnie, then? And I bought a box of PG Tips the other day. It’s around here somewhere.”
“Sounds great. Can I help?”
“You can put the kettle on.” Jodi rummaged in the cupboards for the tea bags while Rupert filled the kettle and flicked the switch. They didn’t speak, but the silence was comfortable, familiar, like they’d muddled through such domesticity a thousand times over.
Jodi put two plates on the breakfast bar. Rupert placed two mugs beside them and folded his tall frame onto a stool.
“So tell me,” he said. “What are you doing tucked up in your PJs on a Saturday night? Thought you were a raver?”
Jodi yawned. “Not this weekend. I had to work. And in my defence, you caught me on a particularly mad one when we met.”
“Where do you work?”
“Here. I’m a web designer.”
“Nice,” Rupert said. “What does that involve? All that coding and shit?”
“Yup. That’s me. Keeps me out of trouble.”
Rupert grinned. “I don’t believe that, but it’s nice to see you sober. You were right the other way last time I saw you.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t usually get that wasted. Just get a little cabin fever crazy when I’ve been stuck indoors working too much.”
Rupert picked up his sandwich. His silence told Jodi he knew exactly how hard Jodi had partied that night and that he perhaps didn’t approve. And he had a point. Jodi had given up party drugs years ago, and the week-long comedown he’d endured after his Boxing Day blowout had reminded him why.
Time for a subject change. “So how was work for you tonight? Was the club busy?”
“I wasn’t at the club. I was at my real job.”
“Which is?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
Jodi choked on his tea. “Seriously? You’re a fireman?”
