Page 67 of Compulsion

There was a hissed breath on the other end of the phone. “If that’s a brush-off, I know I—”

“No!” I yelped. “Call me, Seve. I mean it!” God, did I mean it. God, was I scared of fucking things up!

More silence. I was terrified I’d lost the connection. But it seemed that neither of us was putting the phone down just yet.

“Max….”

“Yeah?”

“It’s no good. This is not working for me.”

“Sorry? What isn’t?”

“Everything. I miss you.”

“Seve.” I didn’t know what to say.

“I understood that you wanted to be alone—that you had things to do. That… maybe it had come to an end for us. That it was just….”

“Just what?” A casual fuck, like I’d once said?

He didn’t rise to my bait. “I have tried to move on. I have tried to keep away.”

“Seve….”

“It’s no good. Like I said,” he continued doggedly, “I don’t want any other.”

And look at me, I thought. I dragged my way through the days like I really was in jail. I did my work and I paid my dues, and I ached throughout it all. I brooded, I obsessed on the pain inside me, and I wallowed in the loss of one of the few things I ever truly wanted. Some days I never contributed more to a conversation than a couple of sentences. I reckoned I was a better wooden spoon than I was a friend to Jack and Louis.

I wanted to say it all aloud, but my throat felt dammed. I couldn’t date anyone else—I couldn’t forget Seve’s skin, fragrant with its unique musky smell; his soft dark hair; his lips tangling with mine. His delight in touching me, in running hands through my hair, his strong fingers gripping my arse. I couldn’t forget the feel of his strong arms round me—his legs pushing between mine—the incredible, anguished ecstasy of being fucked by him. My nights were a mess of frustrated tears and aching balls. I wanted all those things I told him about—the company, the argument, the teasing, the sharing. And I wanted them with him. Yeah… it was pretty obvious I felt the same.

I took a deep breath. “So… how often do the flights go to Spain?”

“What?” He sounded startled.

“I’ll come to you as soon as I can. If you still want me.”

There was another sharp intake of breath. “Of course I do. But you said you could not travel—”

“Tell me where you are,” I said urgently. I was wondering where my toothbrush was and if Jack would lend me the money for the airfare. “Listen to me, okay? I’ll find some way to come to Spain. I’ll talk to the probation officer, I’ll… I don’t know, but I’ll find a way. And when I get there, I want to see you—no, it’s more than that. I want to be with you, whatever. Wherever.” I sucked in a last breath before I lost my nerve. “But the thing is, Seve—or whatever your name is now—I don’t want to wait for you to call again on the off chance. I want to see you now! The only way you’ll keep me away is to tell me you don’t want the same.”

The door to the living room was opening, and I cursed whoever was interrupting me. But it was Jack, holding a travel backpack out to me and pointing to his watch. “Cab arriving in ten,” he said in a stage-whisper. “To the station. There’s a train every twenty minutes to the airport!” He backed out quickly.

“Jack?” I gaped at his retreating back.

Seve’s voice spoke at my ear, laced with tentative amusement. “He told me I could ring you. I called him first—I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You called Jack?”

“Yes. I remembered his name from when he booked the club. I still had his number. I didn’t know how you’d be if I contacted you first, after all this time. I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me, not when I had fucked up so badly. But I thought he might know how I’d be received. You said he was a good friend.”

Yeah, I thought wildly. The best! “Um… look, I know I said I’d get there somehow, but I can’t fly out right now.” I was silently screaming, wishing I had some way of transporting my molecules that’d bypass the probation check on Friday.

Seve made a tutting noise. “Of course you can’t. And you don’t have to. I am in England, at Gatwick Airport. I have just arrived from Spain. I can stay for a week this time, maybe longer after things settle further….”

I was already pulling my jacket off the back of the couch and shrugging into it. “I’m on my way.”

“Max, I must tell you, I only have a little money. I’m in a cheap hotel. It’s not like the flat.”