only if you’re sure
Absolutely sure
katie hasn’t been put off meeting me?
are you sure she’s not used to this sort of thing with you?
Left over fingers, remember?
Besides I told you, no time even for blowjobs
just cute french guys
What?
what food does katie like?
i thought i might grab something as an apology
if you give me permission to spend outside the budget
Dude, you don’t need my permission, do what you want
But the answer is sushi
She’ll love you forever if you buy her good sushi
at least that’s a more interesting favorite food than steak
Oh that’s not my favourite, just what I wanted
what is then?
Not telling. A man’s got to have some secrets
idiot
Miles arrived a few hours later, all cleaned up, his hair soft and dry and styled to fall occasionally into his eyes in the tortured poet way I adored. Dressed in a dark blue linen shirt and pale shorts, he looked like the Miles Callahan from the high tea at Queen’s, though all suggestion of formality was spoiled by his having walked over in bare feet.
“I’m going to pretend we’ve never seen each other before,” he said, holding out a hand to Katie. “And just say hi, I’m Miles.”
“It’s very nice to meet you properly, Miles,” Katie replied, shaking his hand with a grin, “but I’m afraid nothing will ever wipe your first impression from my memory.”
He winced theatrically. “While I know that I amobjectivelyhot, no one should have my ass be the first part of me they see, so I’m . . . extremely sorry.” Miles held out the large paper bag he was carrying. “I’ve brought apology dinner.”
With a surprised glance my way, Katie pulled it open. “Oh my god,” she said giving a little squeak of excitement. “I might not have been thrilled by the welcome, but this is worth even having to seeMat’sarse.”
“Hey! My arse is delightful!”
She shot me a disdainful look, and carried the bag to the coffee table to unpack, leaving Miles stranded and unsure in the middle of our tiny apartment.
“Did this one come by private courier too?” I murmured as I joined him, leaning close enough to catch the poignant floral cologne he sometimes wore. I breathed deeply, wishing it was possible to capture and keep a smell. Or that I was brave enough to ask him what it was.
“No. For Katie, I braved thestreet,” he said, a smile twitching his lips. He’d shaved too, and though I had a weakness for lingering stubble, it turned out I also had a weakness for Miles Callahan’s perfectly smooth jawline. I wanted to bite it.
“Are you two joining me?” Katie said as she grabbed plates from the kitchen. “Or am I eating all this on my own?”
We gathered around the coffee table to eat, and Miles’s wariness soon melted away beneath good food and easy conversation. We talked about the terrible apartments, about London, about Katie’s time in Ilkley, about our favourite players growing up and how we’d started playing as kids, and then a discussion of the worst tournaments we’d played became an attempt to rank the quality of courtside chairs. It was companionable and nice, and occasionally Katie and Miles even went off on their own tangent, finding common ground without me.
