Page 8 of The Tourist

For a second,his eyes narrowed. Then the hesitation passed. “To be with you,stupid.”

I grinnedback. I just knew how much better I looked, how happiness wouldlight up my face. Stupid, yes. But then, there were a lot of weirdthings in my world just now. Before I—or more to the point, mygrinning host—could think twice, I reached out and took Ricky’shand.

He sucked in asharp breath. The flush on his cheeks got deeper.“Dan.”

“What?”

He gazed atme. Honest to God, his eyes shone with some kind of zealous light.My gut lurched in an entirely different way from the earliermisery. “You know. In public. You’ve always seemed kind of nervousof PDA, like I’m going to vanish in a puff of smoke if you touch meon the street.”

“For fuck’ssake—”

“No, wait! Ijust meant, you never did this before.”

I think heimagined I was going to snatch my hand away because his fingersswiftly tightened around mine. He laughed, and so did I. I’m notsure either of us knew exactly what we were laughing at.

“I’m notsaying no.” He looked giddy.

“You’re notgetting the choice,” I said, firmly.

His mouthopened and shut again, abruptly. The molten brown of his eyesdarkened almost to black. He looked spectacular, startled andexcited like that, and my jeans felt uncomfortably tight. I had notrouble now recalling where I was, where Ricky was. And where we’d be in justa few minutes. Half-laughing again, I let him tug me towards hisflat, anticipation of the hours ahead raising the hairs on the backof my neck.

It was only afew roads in the opposite direction to mine, and we took it at astroll. A few people passed us by, and a couple turned back toglance at Ricky. That often happened; he was a fine sight. The doorto a restaurant opened across the way, spilling a burst of noiseand bright lights onto the pavement, then it slammed shut again.Someone laughed in a far-distant street. The people who’d passed usambled out of sight; a bus rumbled by on the other side of the roadand turned the corner. For a second, we were completely alone onthe pavement.

I paused,involuntarily this time. “Did you hear that?”

He peered atme. “What?”

I shook myhead. There’s danger… that warning again. But I didn’t know, wasn’t sure. Ithought someone had called out Ricky’s name, though I couldn’t tellwhere from. No one had stopped to take notice of us and the trafficsoon started rolling past again. But the hairs rose on the back ofmy neck.

Ricky wasn’tinterested in my hesitation. He shrugged and pulled me onwards, andI was happy to let him. I watched the way he moved, athletic,energetic, the enthusiasm barely suppressed. He was full of it,life and verve and hunger. Very delicious.

Very tempting.

In thatmoment, I pulled back from my host. I grew tired of Dan and hisunhappy confusion. His steady ways, his caution, even hisdominance, which took such energy to ignite. I needed a break—andthey say a change is as good as a rest, don’t they?

I drew breath,concentrated hard. The air shimmered around me and my skin felt icycold. Something whistled in my ears. I clenched my fist.

And I jumpedto Ricky.

CHAPTER 5

Did this feelfine, or what? Did I feel fine? I nearly laughed aloud with pleasure.

I’d gonestraight to the fridge when we got back, and now I straightened upwith two cold beers in hand. I caught my reflection in the silverysurface of the door.

This host wasvery, very rewarding. It was a rare treat to be in such a greatbody. Ripped, but not too heavy, you know? Good shoulders and athick head of hair. Long legs and a way of moving that was allmasculine, but graceful, like an athlete, or a dancer. I obviouslyworked out now and then and knew which body parts to develop. Aboutthose body parts? I cupped my groin. Yeah, I remembered, a goodsize.

I glanced backat my reflection, and grinned at myself. Bright eyes, young,classic features. Hell of a smile. My T-shirt clung nicely to mytorso, the muscles of my belly tightening as I turned. I felt likeI could attract anyone and everyone. That was what Dan had beenthinking about me, right?

I paused amoment, startled, one of the beers dripping cold onto mywrist.

You see, as atourist, I didn’t always remember everything about the guys I’dleft behind. I mean, they added to my experience—and how—but it’dbe bloody crowded in my head if I carried all of ’em around with meforevermore, wouldn’t it? So usually, I waited until I’d had myfill, then when I jumped, it was all new. And deliberately so. Thislatest development was still an adventure for me, to jump betweenlovers. Couldn’t always guarantee a safe landing, of course, thoughon the rare occasions I’d tried it, my accuracy seemed to begetting better. I enjoyed practising, anyway. But I had to losemost of the feelings from my previous host, as a matter ofsanity.

Yet tonight…things were different.

I glancedaround the kitchen. There was a lingering though pleasant aroma ofcooked pasta and the satisfying domesticity of fresh fruit heapedin the bowl on the counter. The place was small but warm andrelatively clean, and the beers were a familiar, welcome shape inmy palm. I stretched gently and smiled to myself. I liked my flat,even though it was cramped by anyone else’s standards. Thispromised to be a lot of fun. And I liked me. This host was a lot more mystyle.

Yes, I’ddefinitely arrived.