It’s work. I can tell by the seriousness that descends on him. I give him even more space and contemplate the crêpe stall. I can make better at home, but my sweet tooth is the vice I can indulge right now, and the longer Bhodi is away from me, the more the scent of sugar, butter, and spiced citrus gets to me.
Fuck it.
I buy one and Bhodi catches me as I’m shoving the first bite in my mouth.
“Cute.”
“What is?”
“The sugar on your lips.” Bhodi thumbs it off. “You should bottle that image and sell it to cheer people up.”
“You need cheering up?”
“Not now.”
I study him, trying to gauge what could’ve happened in the last three minutes to kill his mood. “Everything okay at work?”
Bhodi shrugs. “Yeah, just the day team trying to decipher my writing. It’s a problem everywhere I go.”
We’ve talked about this before, but without the subtle dejection weighing Bhodi down now. “If it’s any consolation, I can read it just fine.”
“You’re the only one.” Bhodi takes the bite of crêpe I offer him, and I see his point as sugar coats his lips too. “I don’t know what it is—Ican read just fine too, but for writing, it’s like my brain and my hand aren’t connected. I had to take all my nursing exams in a special room with a laptop.”
“But you passed them.”
He nods. “I knew my shit—Istillknow my shit. That’s why it pisses me off so much when people talk to me like I’m thick as mince.”
His frustration shouldn’t be this attractive. But then everything about Bhodi riles me up, and maybe this is the one thing I can act on without giving oxygen to the smouldering burn between us.
I drive us home. Bhodi shakes off his bad mood and gives me a playful kiss on the cheek before he heads for the side gate.
Don’t ask him in. Don’t ask him in. Don’t ask him in.
I resist. Just. But I call after him anyway. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Day shift.”
Which means he’ll be home around four. I won’t be done by then, but for what I have in mind, it won’t matter. “Find me after, okay? I’ve got something to show you.”
Ten
BHODI
Come find me afterturns out to be later than planned. By two days. I finish late on the first, and on the second, every time I look in on Tam, he’s gone.
We keep just missing each other, and for whatever reason, we’ve never got round to exchanging numbers, and digging it out of my tenancy paperwork feels kinda wrong.
“You have glitter in your hair.” Tam waves me into his house, his feet bare to the rustic floorboards.
“Better than blood on my hands.”
“Has it been that kind of day?”
“Actually, no.” I hang my coat and toe off my Vans. “I got roped into decorating the ward on my day off, and I stole you some Frosty Fancies to make up for airing you the other day.”
Tam takes the box and tears into it, stuffing a sparkly-white cake straight into his mouth. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
