Steve shrugged his heavy shoulders. ‘S’pose, if you like looking at roofs. Be better with a decent view. Like the sea, or a beach or something.’
‘Bit difficult here. I’m pretty sure the Czech Republic is landlocked. Although, cool that you can visit four different countries crossing the border.’
Steve looked at him as if he were talking gibberish.
Thank God Steve wasn’t staying, thought Leo as he carried his smaller rucksack into the kitchen. Maybe he took a while to warm up.
‘Watch your head,’ warned Steve. ‘Why anyone would put a kitchen in here, I don’t know. Every wall has a sloping ceiling. Complete botch job and a bloody nightmare. I’d have stuck the kitchen at one end of the lounge and made it open-plan.’
Leo bit back the words ‘I’m sure you would.’ He rather liked the quirky kitchen with its wood-framed Velux windows. It felt rather like an eyrie at the top of a mountain, with views from every window. He opened a couple of cupboards before finding some suitable glasses. At a push he wasn’t averse to drinking out of the bottle, but a true aficionado knew it didn’t do the taste of the beer any favours.
Taking the glasses and separating a couple of bottles from the ones he put in the fridge, he moved out to the roof terrace, keen to get back into the late August sunshine after being cooped up in an airport, plane and cab for most of the day. Sitting in one of the bistro chairs, he took a deep breath and pulled his keyring with its bottle-top opener from his pocket to flip off the cap of one of the bottles of Pilsner Urquell. A safe, standard choice for day one here, but he was looking forward to trying some of the craft beers in the local brewpubs.
He handed a bottle and the keyring to Steve.
‘Thanks.’ Steve sank into one of the chairs and flipped the crown cap off his beer.
Leo carefully poured the beer into the glass, watching the foamy head froth up, already anticipating the flavour of the golden brew.
‘Cheers,’ he said and took a long, thirsty pull, before slapping down his glass with a grin. ‘Absolute nectar.’
Steve wrinkled his nose, ‘Not so sure about all that head.’ But he took a sip.
Leo closed his eyes to savour the cool, refreshing flavour of the beer and the sun on his face. This was heaven right here.
He opened his eyes and squinted into the sunshine. Holy shit!
His hand clenched on the condensation-covered glass and the sudden grip forced it out of his fingers, so that it landed with a crash on the table, sending a spray of beer up his arm.
‘Anna, you’re back.’ Steve jumped to his feet, ignoring Leo’s mishap, and went over to the woman who’d stepped through the French doors onto the terrace. He wrapped his arm around her in a proud, proprietorial embrace, as Leo brushed ineffectually at his wet arm, all the while staring at Anna.
‘This is Leo, the guy you’re going to be sharing with.’
Leo’s mouth turned dry and his stomach dropped to his feet. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the–– He grabbed his drink and took a quick slug of beer to give his hands something to do.
‘This is my girlfriend, Anna. Anna Love.’ Steve actually puffed out his chest as he laid claim to her in that and-you’d-better-remember-that-mate, territorial-gorilla way. Which was an effing joke because he clearly had absolutely no idea who Leo was.
‘Anna,’ said Leo, swallowing hard.
‘Leo. Nice to meet you,’ said Anna without so much as a pause, not moving from Steve’s protective hold. She stared at him with the sort of smooth, bland poker face that gave nothing away.
He blinked and waited a second. Had she really said that? Nice to meet you? Did she not recognise him? Of course she bloody recognised him. How could she not?
He could feel his upper lip curling in … he wasn’t sure what. Disbelief? Amazement? Disappointment?
Seriously? She was going to pretend she didn’t know him?
Even after all this time, it was a kick to the stomach.
‘I got you some milk. So you can have a proper cup of tea,’ she said, turning to Steve. Her boyfriend.
B-b-boyfriend. Sharp acid soured Leo’s stomach like curdled milk.
‘Would you like one … er, Leo?’ she asked, as if she wasn’t sure of his name.
Ouch, that hurt. His heart crumpled, with a crisp, cellophane crunch.
‘Uh, er, no. Uh…’ Incapable of finding consonants, let alone words, he held up his beer in response as if she spoke a different language.
