“Ten. But it started when I was in preschool. I remember it waking me up and it never really went away.”
“The tics?”
Joss nods. “In my legs, which is weird. They’re mainly in my neck and shoulders now.”
I know that. I’ve seen it. “Did it hurt?”
“Not at first. Then I started scratching myself to make it stop, see?”
He points to scars on his arms I’d assumed were chef burns. My mouth goes dry, but he grins. “Don’t worry. This was twenty years ago. I don’t do it anymore.”
“What came next?”
“Rippling. Popping. Making weird kissing noises at the bus stop. All good things to be doing down Peckham high street.” Joss’s grin widens. “Eventually, I became this vibrating kid good for nothing except punching myself in the face. It was a trip.”
His story is painful. I knew it would be. But I see that he’s over it too. That the strongest part of him is acceptance, of himself and the world around him.
I blow out a breath. “I can’t tell which parts are Tourette’s and which are ADHD.”
“They’re loosely related. The ADHD came later, though. Or, at least, it got more noticeable as I got older, and the tics faded a bit. When you’re little, it’s cute to run into school with no coat, one shoe left on the bus, and buzz around the classroom like a tiny hooligan. It’s not the same when you’re still doing it ten years later. Fuck, I still do itnow.”
At that, I smile. I love his irrepressible energy, but I get that it’s hard to manage. “How did the dishwashing job change your life?”
Joss finishes his food and sets the bowl aside, another ray of light smile warming his face. “The boss’s fella had Tourette’s a thousand times worse than me. There was literally nothing I could do to make this geezer flinch, and it set me free. He figured out I could cook, taught me how to manage myself better, and sent me on my way. And here I am.”
“Here you are.” I haven’t finished eating, but I’m done with it. Ignoring his frown, I dump my bowl on top of his and lean forward. “And you traveled all over the world to get here?”
“Not on purpose.”
“How does that work?”
“It’s like this.” Joss leans forward too. “You know the trouble when your life moves a million miles an hour?”
“What?”
“You don’t see the best things coming.”
He kisses me, just once. Then he sits back in his seat, his expression sobering. “I feel like ‘later’ is about to grab us by the balls.”
I feel it too. I need to speak before he tells me I don’t have to, and you know what? I think I’m ready. “I’m not going to tell you anything you couldn’t learn from anyone else. It’s not a secret. Man, you could probably google it.”
“Facts don’t make feelings. You’re telling me how it happened to you. No one else can do that.” Joss stands abruptly and disappears into the kitchen, taking the dishes with him. I hear the faucet and running water and figure he’s cleaning up before he settles in for my tale of woe, but he’s back quicker than I expect with two mugs.
“You need a cuppa, mate. Trust me.”
“I do.”
Joss doesn’t ask for clarification. He sits on the couch again, long legs crossed, facing me. He takes his piercings out to work downstairs. At some point between now and blowjob o’clock he’s put them back in, and he’s so effortlessly fuckin’ cool I can’t restrain my stare.
Like, I’m transfixed. I want to wrap his hair around my hand and tug him closer, pulling him on top of me.
I want to push him down and brace my forearm on the arm of the couch, covering him with my body.
Fuck, I want it all.
“Kai?”
I blink. “Yeah?”
