“I hate this.”
“I know. So do I. But I’ll be thinking of you all night – and that’s what will get me through playing the good husband while wearing my fake smile and this ugly ass black shirt. Because apparently, the purple one I put on earlier made me look like a slut.”
A growl rumbles in my throat, but I bite it back. I don’t care what Darius wears, he’s gorgeous to me in anything. But I especially love him in his colourful clothing and his soft fabrics and pretty lace, because I know that’s when he’s happiest and when he’s most comfortable.
“Anyway, I didn’t call to talk abouthim, other than to say he has a work trip tomorrow morning and won’t be back until late Sunday. I was thinking we could go out and I could stay the night at yours.”
“Yes. To the date and having you in my bed.”
He chuckles. “Even if I say it’s a double date with Caiden and Jamie?” Now Idogroan out loud. “It’ll be fun,” Darius adds. “Bowling. Drinks. Maybe some dancing?”
“They hate me.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Uh, pretty sure Jamie does. The guy literally punched me.” Darius knows the full story of how I found out about his wedding. Hell, after he fucked me, we spent hours talking and telling each other everything from the days we spent apart. Filling in the gaps of our story.
I kick my feet up on the table, resting my head back on the sofa, then put my phone on loudspeaker and settle it on my chest. Staring at the ceiling, I notice there’s a crack in the plaster, and I make a note to bring it up with the landlord. Or maybe it’s time to find somewhere bigger and better to live.
Not yet, but soon.
“You pushed Caiden first,” Darius continues. “Jamie’s protective. You can understand that, can’t you?”
My hand twitches at my side with the phantom need to shove Floyd into a brick wall, face first. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good. So that’s settled.”
“Do I get a prize for going?” I rub a hand beneath my tee, over the soft flesh of my stomach.
“Sure.” Darius is quiet for a moment, humming under his breath. “Pick a colour.”
“Yellow.”
“Good choice. Our favourite.” There’s shuffling on the other end, like fabric passing over the speaker.
“What’s my prize?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Tease.”
He laughs, but the sound dies off when there’s a loud banging on his side and another man’s voice filters through.
“Hurry the fuck up, Darius.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he responds.
“And have my mother wonder why we showed up separately, again?”Darius drops his voice.
“I have to go. Wanna watch a film over the phone together later?”
I’d rather watch it with him in my arms, but I promised to do this with him, his way, and I won’t add to the stress he’s already living.
“I’d love that. Call me when you’re home.”
My evening moves slowly, restless energy looking for an outlet as I wait for his call. I read. Pace my flat. Make tea and toast. Run to the corner shop for another Red Bull. Take a shower. Lie on my bed. Then the sofa. He eventually calls and I can finally relax, kicking off my trousers and sliding into my bed in only a pair of boxers, the scent of his cologne on my pillow. We lie together in our separate beds, a film playing on our screens. Darius falls silent halfway through, his breathing heavy on the other side of the line. And I stay awake for hours longer, listening and wishing he was here with me, where he belongs.
“That’s another strike!” Jamie exclaims, standing from his seat to kiss his boyfriend on the forehead before picking up his bowling ball and taking his turn.
