“Don’t knock it. It was a way to survive acid-washed jeans and neon windbreakers.”
He laughs, and I take the next bottle he offers me. By the time we’ve finished those, I’m feeling very loose. He snaps the headphones over my ears and drags me into the centre of the room where he starts to dance, jumping up and down, and whatshould be awkward becomes suddenly …fun. I let him drag me close, feeling the drink warm me, and the music seems to beat through my body. He slots his legs between mine and grinds against me, and I immediately forget everything. I forget my reservations, my concerns, and my fears over what’s ahead of us, and instead I fall into the music. And him.
I lower my hands, grabbing his arse and pulling him closer. His eyes close and his lips part as he feels my cock against his, and when he opens them, they’re half-lidded and hungry. I lean lower and he rises higher, the movement as seamless as if we’ve been doing it for years, and then we’re kissing. The music throbs in my ears, combining with the smoke and the flashing lights. It’s like he’s woven a spell over me, making everything feel like it’s dusted with happiness. The shiny, freshness of it all makes me recognise this has been missing from my life for far too long. Maybe I’veneverhad this. Is it wrong to grab onto it with both hands?
I already know the answer, so I pull him close, fitting my mouth to his. There is no spell. Just a boy full of sunshine and an older man who should know better.
chapter 12
. . .
Xavier
“Bye,” I say to Jez. “Hope the publishers are kind to you. Try to say please and thank you, and remember to look both ways before you cross the road.”
He rolls his eyes, and I want to laugh. I’m finding irritating Jez to be one of the bonuses of this trip. The other major bonus is currently standing on the other side of him, frowning at something on his phone.
We’re standing outside the hotel waiting for Jez’s cab to get here so he can go to London, and the lunchtime sun is hot on my face. I’m studiously trying to ignore Reuben, so I don’t get heart eyes in front of my father, but it’s so hard. He’s so lovely that it’s difficult not to stare.
He and Jez start to discuss something to do with Jez’s memoirs. I’ve got to say I won’t be reading them. These few days with my father have completely cured me of any interest in him. Still, I’ve been nice, and the bonus is Reuben’s pleased look whenever I feign interest in the shit that Jez talks about. Newsflash, it’s usually about himself, and he doesn’t require any input apart from admiring looks. He should stick to his fan clubfor all his human interactions, making it easier for the rest of humanity.
I sneak a look at Reuben. His dark hair is lifting in the breeze, his grey eyes bright. He’s tall and lean, and I love the feeling of being smaller than him. Since I’m tall myself, I don’t typically have that experience with blokes.
He laughs, and I look at him curiously. He’s seemed easier somehow over the last few days which relieves me. He’s determined to carry the weight of the world for the people he cares about, and his PTSD isn’t making that any easier. I frown. And my father seems determined to ignore it.
In my opinion, my father also has an unhealthy connection to Reuben. He gets annoyed whenever he speaks to anyone or his attention is drawn away. It’s like he owns Reuben or something.
“Xavier?”
I jerk as I realise Reuben’s talking to me. “Eh?”
Reuben’s eyes twinkle. “I was just telling Jez that we’ll be fine without him on our final day here. Have you thought what you’d like to do?”
Well, I certainlydohave a lot of thoughts, but I don’t think Daddy Dearest will approve of any of them. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure something will come up,” I murmur. I shoot Reuben a sultry look while Jez is bending to grab his suitcase and I want to laugh when he blanches.
The laughter is mingled with frustration. I wish he didn’t care so much what Jez thinks. I certainly don’t. I’m the result of an accidental bodily fluid exchange. He wasn’t there for me when I was a kid. He didn’t pick me up when I cried or soothe me after a nightmare. He’s not my father and he never will be.
On top of that guilt, Reuben seems determined to paint me as some tormented virgin in his head, which is just laughable. In reality, I think it’s just another stick he can beat himself with. I’mnot sure who he’s trying to live up to, but his role model wouldn’t be anyone whom I’d choose.
They walk to the car, and I traipse along behind them, admiring the swell of Reuben’s arse in his faded jeans.
He’s also kind, funny, and wise. I try to shove that aside, but it’s too true to be ignored. No matter how I’ve tried to see him as just this hot older man, I can’t do it. He’s become Reuben to me, and that’s something even more dangerous because Reuben seems to see me in a way that no one ever has in my life. To him, I’m not a troublesome burden or an unwanted relative. I’m Xavier to him, and I’ve never really dared to show that person to anyone before. I spend my whole life trying to be seen and becoming what other people want. Despite my efforts, I’m still dismissed as being too much. My emotions are too big, and I’m too loud for other people’s tastes.
It’s not like that with Reuben. The sex is amazing, but equally strange and wonderful is the calm afterwards. With my previous hookups, we’d be zipping up and fucking off as soon as we’d come, but Reuben isn’t like that. Despite his complaints, he’s a cuddler, and we’ll lie together sharing a cigarette and talking late into the night, and I’ve treasured this more than I’ll ever tell him. He listens to me, and despite the age gap, I never feel gauche. Instead, his intense eyes make me feel fascinating. And because he seems to like me, I’ve shown him more and more of the real me, sharing my hopes and dreams, and what I love and hate.
The fact that he remembers all of these details evenafterhe’s come is mindboggling to me. It also makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out with a blunt stick because I won’t see him after this week. He’ll move on and probably won’t think of me again while I’ll forever associate the scent of sandalwood, sex and cigarette smoke with him, and something about that fucks me up inside because I know I won’t get this connection with anyone again.
He and Jez are leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow after the funeral. Will I see him again? I probably would if Jez and I keep in touch, but that isn’t going to happen. So, this is it. We’ve somehow carved out a moment in time for each other, which will never reoccur. I’ll go back to my life and Reuben will firmly button himself back into the man I first met—closed off and on an island he keeps all to himself.
I kick a stone moodily and then paste a smile on my face when they turn around.
“See you tomorrow,” Jez says, sliding into the cab. Reuben kindly pretends that Jez is talking to me, but we both know that if I were dressed in a tutu and doing cartwheels across the drive, Jez would still ignore me and focus on Reuben. “I’ll come back to the hotel and get changed so we can go to the funeral together,” he adds.
Reuben and I stand together watching the car turn down the drive, and we stay there in silence long after it’s vanished. The rays of the sun paint his face red, making his grey eyes look like molten steel. Ridiculous. I’m beginning to sound like something from a romance story.
We only have this afternoon and the night, and I’m not wasting it. I’m very aware I’ve invested way too much into what should’ve been a casual shag. Casual doesn’t show up at Reuben’s room, desperate for his touch and hiding it with cheek and snark because it makes him smile. Casual doesn’t wind himself around Reuben when the fucking’s over. It doesn’t listen for Reuben’s voice and smile when he hears it.
“Alright?” he asks, rocking back on his heels. He’s wearing faded jeans and a sage-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show his tanned, corded forearms. He looks edible. I look him up and down slowly, enjoying his slightly panicked expression.
