I groan. “Oh, gosh. No. I’m so sorry.” Bash laughs, but I shake my head. “Seriously. Let me apologise for anything she may have already said or will say in the future. She’s…something.”
“Like a puppy with an old steak.” There are tiny laugh lines in the corners of Bash’s eyes when he grins.
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “Does that make you an old steak?” It’s surprisingly easy to banter with him.
Bash huffs. “I’m still tasty, though.”
Oh, bugger. Are those…tingles? Arousal? I swallow and decide not to respond to that, preferring the suddenly very interesting shops along the road. If Clara turns out to be good at picking guys I vibe with, I might barf.
But no matter how much I’m enjoying Bash’s attention and quick-witted replies, he’s no Freddie.
Nobody is like Freddie.
But that shouldn’t matter. Itcan’tmatter. Because the one night we had will be the only experience we’ll ever share. Freddie is so far off-limits it’s not even funny. He’s a colleague. He’s a mate. He’s right in the spotlight, and so am I, even though not as much.
Bash pulls the car into a parking spot and kills the engine. “All good?” he asks, and only now do I realise I’ve been silent forthe last couple minutes. Bloody Freddie. Ruining dates he’s not even here for.
“Yeah,” I say hastily and smile at him. “Sorry. I’m always exhausted after training, that’s all.”
“Mh.” Bash cocks his head, then reaches across the gear knob and places a hand on my thigh. “Sounds like you need a massage.”
I roll my shoulders instinctively. “No, we’ve got physios, and they—oh.” Heat creeps into my cheeks as I belatedly realise what he was implying.
Bash laughs and casually removes his hand from my thigh, gently stroking my knee in the process. I do my best not to shiver as my body responds. “You’re the cutest, Marlon,” Bash says, then gets out of the car.
My door is opened for me yet again and Bash smiles at me, floppy blond hair falling into his forehead. “Come on, let’s get ourselves some pho.”
I have a beer, which is a bad idea on a night before a game. It helps me make another bad decision, though. One I know I shouldn’t go for, but do anyway. Bash is quite transparent about his interest in me and not ashamed to show it, putting his arm around my shoulders, ruffling the short hair at the back of my head, always touching me in some way.
I’m not unaffected.
Freddie is many things, but he’s not interested in a repeat. So I need to get him out of my head, the sooner the better. Bash is new, charming, maybe even exciting.
The logical move would be to leave with Clara and take the Overground back home with her. Instead, I nod as Bash glances at me, and get in his car when the group disperses. Clara’s beaming face is the last thing I see as we drive off.
Bash’s Mayfair flat is great and he’s great, too, experienced and fit and determined.
Kissing him confirms I’m definitely into men who aren’t Freddie. Kissing him does something to my body, arouses me, makes me want to touch him, too. We tumble into his bed together, and I’m having a good time, losing myself in his touch.
The way he touches me is practiced, not tender.
The way he looks at me is full of lust, not a shred of amazement to be found.
Which is normal, I suppose. I need to shed the idea that every hookup I have will be like that night Freddie and I shared, that felt so special, like we were in a cocoon where only we existed.
I go further with Bash than I did with Freddie, maybe to prove something to myself. He fingers me expertly and I blow him, less expertly, and we both come. No complaints.
No cuddling, after.
I clean up and get a cab home, physically satisfied, mentally hollow. I’m sure I won’t see Bash again and I don’t need to, either. Everything we did was transactional. I enjoyed it very much, but it pales in comparison to what Freddie ignited in me.
It’s probably not fair to compare a spectacular first time to a run-of-the-mill hookup.
It’s probably not ideal that it felt like there were three people in that bed at times, with how much I thought about Freddie. His caressing touches, his dorky jokes.
That’s not a good sign, at all.
I can’t have him. Will never have him again. Absolutely shouldn’twantto have him again.
