Quinn stepped out from behind his bookshelf; at the same time, so did Noah. Now only inches away from one another. He read Noah’s green eyes, saw the softness of his skin. Reaching out, he brushed away a strand of Noah’s hair, feeling himself smile.
‘I left Hay to find myself,’ Noah said. ‘This whole time, all I needed was you.’
Noah pushed Quinn against the bookcase. His hands found Quinn’s hips, pulling him towards him, before wrapping his arms around his waist. Quinn looked up, taking him all in. He expected to smell the citrus scent, but Noah was wearing something different, something akin to cedar, and he felt safe again, like it didn’t matter what happened.
Quinn slid one hand underneath Noah’s jumper, feeling warm bare skin on his fingertips. He traced the ridges of muscle, that V-line, as Noah’s fingers slipped under Quinn’s own T-shirt.
Reaching up, he placed a hand on Noah’s chin. ‘Look up, handsome.’
Quinn’s breath hitched.
Above them hung mistletoe, with full red berries. Noah looked back at Quinn, a smile on his face.
Then everything changed. Quinn’s lips were on Noah’s, or maybe Noah’s were on his, but it didn’t matter who did what first. If his aura was dark before, it shone a bright yellow now. A warmth spread over him like it was a hot summer’s day. With the smell of Noah’s aftershave so close, Quinn almost thought they’d been transported to the depths of a forest, with bluebells at their feet and doves flying above. Quinn tightened his grip as he held Noah’s face in one hand, and his back with the other. Noah’s soft lips departed, only for a moment, and then they were upon him again, stronger this time.
Noah pulled him closer, and he felt everything. His erection pushing against his trousers, his muscle covered by fabric, the softness of his jumper. They seemed to float off the moss bed at their feet, floating in the realms of reality and magic. Quinn let Noah feel every part of him, from his own erection to his skin.
He wanted to reach every inch of him, to satisfy the aching hunger within, to feel every part. He wanted to taste him and experience him and be part of him all at the same time.
When Noah broke away – or was it him that broke away first – he realised he was, of course, still in the bookshop, not in the ethereal woods. Yet the smell of cedar remained, and the familiar smell of books made him feel secure.
Both smiled, then laughed.
‘I have to go,’ Noah said, still pressed against him, not making any attempt to move. His forehead was against Quinn’s now. ‘I have to go back home.’
‘To London?’
‘To Mum’s.’
Relief swept through Quinn like the imaginary brook. ‘Your mum is out of the house.’
‘She … what?’
‘Didn’t you go home first?’
‘No, I got here and then walked around Hay like a lunatic psyching myself up to tell you all of this.’
Quinn laughed. ‘Come on. I’ve got something to show you.’
Taking Noah by the hand felt exhilarating. As they ran out of the shop, through the snow, Quinn felt reckless. He brought Noah closer to him, kissing him under the falling snow, illuminated now only by Hay’s Christmas lights.
They arrived at the pub, where the crowd from earlier was still in full flow. When they saw Quinn enter, his hand in Noah’s, the place erupted. Deb and June, standing at the bar, looked from Noah to each other, threw back their cocktails, and ordered another.
‘You’re back!’ Ivy said. ‘And holding hands!’ If Ivy could burst into a firework and whizz around the pub, she would have. Quinn was sure of it.
‘What colour is my aura?’ Quinn asked her.
‘Oh, the sweetest pink!’
Everything was perfect. Deb and June engaged Noah in conversation at long last, and they even congratulated Quinn on winning over such a ‘dashing young man’. It seemed their rush to get another drink had been to get some liquid courage to speak to their favourite author.
When Noah got away from Deb and June, somehow alive, Hermione came to join them.
‘Noah.’
‘Mum, meet Quinn,’ Noah said.
‘Did you fall and bump your head? We’ve already met.’
