“Because we’re in enough of a fucking mess as we are.”
“Oh, chill out,” he says in a very accurate impression of his father.
“Just stop,” I sigh, fighting the urge to laugh.
He settles back on the bench. “I think it’s bad to smoke,” he observes as I send another lungful of smoke up. “But that might just be a silly notion I have in my teeny brain.”
“Xavier, death by nicotine is the least of my problems at the moment.”
“Oh, dear.”
I nudge him as he breaks into laughter. “Shut up. It’s not funny. I actually fucked the throat of my best friend’s son.”
“As an autobiography title, it’s not too bad, but the publishers might put up a few roadblocks.”
I can’t help but laugh this time. It bursts out loud and unrestrained, and he grins approvingly at me.
“There. See, it’s not that bad.”
“It sort of is.” He takes my cigarette from me and takes a drag. “I thought smoking was bad for you, Xavier Conway.”
“That hasn’t stopped me so far withanyof my life decisions.”
“Oh, dear. That sounds even more ominous after a few hours of knowing you.”
“Biblically.”
I look at him in question.
“You know mebiblically,” he clarifies.
I shift on the bench at his throaty voice. He puts his full lips around the cigarette and sucks on it, and my jeans suddenly get a lot tighter. He shoots me a sidelong look, and I roll my eyes.
“Pack it in.” I take the cigarette from him and crush it onto the ashtray on a nearby table, then I settle next to him again, and a silence drops. It feels oddly comfortable, and I wonder why. This close, I can smell his shampoo. It’s a curiously innocent smell.
Eventually, he stirs. “There’s no need to freak out about it. We just messed around.”
“You’re Jez’s kid.”
“I’m a byproduct of his sperm. Nothing more.”
“It could turn into something more.”
He shoots me a cynical look that looks so wrong on such a young face. “Really?”
I rub my neck awkwardly and can’t think of anything to say.
“Exactly,” he says. “I’m never going to see him again after this weekend. I already knew that before I came here.”
“Why not? Because of him, and how he behaved?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. And maybe because of me, too.”
“So, why did you come?”
“Because I wanted to finally see him. And I wanted him to see me.” He laughs, but there’s little amusement in it. “He’s a bit like a comet that shot across my mum’s life and ruined everything.”
“That’s not true,” I say quietly. “After all, you’re here. That will always be a bonus.”
