Screwing the System (31 page)

“Come on in,” Rai said as he pulled back, taking hold of one of my hands. “We’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

It was only a step through to the living room, and there Evan was, sprawled on the sofa and seeming to take up far more space than one man should. He had on a pair of camouflage combat trousers—huge bare feet sticking out of the bottom—and a faded Massive Attack T-shirt with the arms and neck cut off. I remembered Denise’s comment about his lack of style, but hey, it suited him.

Evan gave me a lazy smile and got to his feet. “Ey up, Josh. Hey, you brought snacks.” His blue eyes lit up as he spotted the biscuits and big bag of Kettle Chips. “There’s a man after my own heart. You should be taking notes, pet.”

I watched Rai flip Evan the bird with a sunny smile. “I do the brainy stuff, you do the brawny stuff—that’s the deal, lover. You want me to go shopping and make dinner, you have to learn how to do your own accounts.” Rai turned to me and winked. “I will take these through to the kitchen and get us some drinks, though. What do you fancy, Josh. Tea? Coffee? Beer?”

“Beer sounds good,” I said, my voice only quavering ever so slightly as Rai took my meagre offerings, his fingers brushing mine. “Thanks”

As Rai disappeared through to the kitchen, Evan pulled me into a bear hug. Christ, I really wasn’t used to all this touchy-feely stuff. It’d been way too long since another man had wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me in close to his rock-hard, musky-smelling body.

Uh-oh. I felt like the life was being crushed out of my lungs, and my dick was starting to chub up. How sick was that? And embarrassing too, because there was no way Evan wouldn’t be able to feel it, all squished up close like he was.

“Can’t breathe!” I panted, and Evan loosened his hold.

“Sorry, mate. I get a bit carried away sometimes. Don’t know my own strength.” He cast a rueful glance down at his bulging arms, then gestured at the sofa. “Make yourself comfy.”

The sofa ballooned with excess stuffing and was covered in a hideous seventies-style orange geometrical print. It faced the windows, next to a leather recliner that looked like it must have been an expensive investment back in the eighties, and a tatty beanbag tossed like an afterthought into the corner. As I didn’t much fancy the beanbag or taking what must be the best seat, I gingerly sat at one end of the sofa and took a proper look around.

The retro theme seemed to extend to all the decor, what with the giant Swiss cheese plant climbing up by the windows, the wooden bead curtain covering the bedroom doorway, and the kitsch prints up on the walls. There was even that bizarre one of the woman with green skin that you sometimes see abandoned in charity shops. Someone must have had a thing for owls because they were everywhere, in the form of pictures, mantelpiece ornaments and even an appliqué cushion on the sofa. The evening sun was still warming up the hills across the valley, but the room was lit with the warm glow from a couple of lamps with the bases made out of wine bottles, and a red-and-amber lava lamp.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I said, which was probably an exaggeration, but it felt kind of homey.

“Huh? Oh, this stuff. Yeah, Rai likes picking things up at car-boot sales. He reckons they’re the antiques of the future, but he’s deluded. Who’s going to want to pay good money for macramé plant holders? Only sentimental fools like him.” Evan flopped down on the other end of the sofa and gestured to the hanging pots of spider plants in the two sash windows.

“I heard that, Evan Truman.” Rai waltzed back into the room with three open bottles of Peroni clutched between his fingers. “Don’t you go bad-mouthing my spider plants, or you’ll find they start multiplying.”

“They already are,” Evan grumbled, but I could hear the affection in his voice. “They’re as bad as the owls. They’ve taken over the bedroom. Can’t get dressed without knocking into one of the things. It’s like summat out of the Day of the bloody Triffids in there. You better watch it, Josh, or he’ll unload some baby spider plants on you, and before you know it, you’ll have hundreds of the bloody things.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Rai grinned, displaying a row of ever-so-slightly crooked teeth that just made him look even more adorable. “They’re an excellent return on investment. They’re the gift that keeps on giving, unlike this big lummox.” Rai stood between us and kicked Evan in the shin. “Shift your fat arse over, Mister. You always take up all the room.”

Evan smiled and stretched his legs and arms out even farther, so Rai gave up and plonked himself down on Evan’s lap.

“Ow,” Evan complained. “You’re getting heavy for a little fella. I won’t be able to lift you up anymore if you keep putting on weight.”

Rai pouted and looked down at his skinny body, temptingly showcased in a skinny-fit brown-and-orange swirly shirt and chinos. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to get more exercise, old man.”

I longed for that kind of gentle teasing. The kind that comes from someone who knows all your quirks and faults and loves you anyway. I took a long swig of my beer to wash the yearning away. It didn’t work.

“How was the conference?” I asked, figuring that would be a dull enough topic to numb the loneliness welling up inside me.

Evan snorted. “Same as ever. A bunch of know-it-all lefty liberals trying to set the world to rights.”

That earned him a swift elbow in the ribs from Rai. “Watch it, or I’ll out you as a closet
Guardian
reader.” Rai turned to me, his eyes sparkling with intelligence. “It was fascinating. We were debating likely barriers to the worldwide implementation of the Tobin tax, and how best to put pressure on tax havens to ensure fair wealth distribution throughout the world.”

“Wow.” I really didn’t know what else to say. “I didn’t know that’s what you were studying.”

“Economics isn’t all about grabbing money from the poor to line the rich guys’ pockets,” Rai announced grandly. “Some of us are trying to change the world for the bet— Stop it!” That was to Evan, who was apparently trying to tickle Rai’s ribs. “Right. I’m going to go sit on Josh’s lap if that’s the way you’re going to behave.”

Rai leapt up and gave me a cheeky smile. I promptly flushed, choked on the last of my beer and ended up trying to cough my lungs up.

“Hey, it’s okay, chuck. Slow down, just breathe.” A warm, heavy hand landed on my back and rubbed in firm but gentle circles. I eventually caught my breath and looked up to find Rai and Evan staring down at me, concern in their eyes. I stared for way too long, admiring the view. They were as different as glass and sand, yet you could see they were the same deep down.

“How do you do it?” I blurted out.

Rai frowned. “What, the Tobin tax?”

“No, the two of you. You’re don’t seem to have anything in common, but you fit together just right. I don’t get it.” I really didn’t. The bottle of beer and the earlier conversation with Stella had loosened my tongue, and I kept going, even though I knew I’d be kicking myself in the morning.

The best things in life aren’t free…they’re freely given
.

Handle with Care

© 2012 Josephine Myles

Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. After raising his little sister to adulthood, he wasted no time making up for the youth he lost to responsible parenting. Two years of partying it up—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tethered to a home dialysis regimen.

He can do his job from his flat, fortunately, but most of his favourite things are forbidden. Except for DVD porn…and fantasizing over Ollie, the gorgeous, purple-haired skateboarder who delivers it.

Their banter is the highlight of Ben’s lonely day, but his illness-ravaged body is the cruel reality that prevents him from believing they’ll do anything more than flirt. Not to mention the age gap. Still, Ben figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.

Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret…and an unexpected connection that leaves him wondering if he’s been reading Ollie wrong all this time. There’s only one way to find out: risk showing Ollie every last scar. And hope “far from perfect” is good enough for a chance at love.

Warning: Contains superhero porn comics and a cute, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Handle with Care:

When the world started to make sense again, a wave of breathtaking shame crashed over me. Not only had I neglected myself enough to have an attack—which hadn’t happened for ages—but I’d thrown myself at Ollie. I leant back against the wall and tried to regain my cool. It seemed to have deserted me, and I couldn’t blame it.

“You okay now?” he asked me.

I nodded. I still didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid.

“Shit, Ben, you had me worried there. Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“No, it’s fine. Just had a hypo. Nothing to worry about. Zoe will be here soon. She’ll sort me out.”

“Zoe? That’s your sister, right?”

“Yeah. She calls in every day on her way into work.”

He nodded, but he still didn’t look happy. I missed his smile.

“Thanks,” I said. “You did exactly the right thing. Sorry I acted like a total wanker. I don’t know what I’m doing when I have an attack.”

There was that curve of his lips I loved so much. “I thought you were drunk at first,” Ollie said.

“No chance.” I smiled back. “No alcohol, no coffee, no cigarettes, no sugar, no sex—”

“No sex? What, your doctor told you that?”

I avoided his eyes. “Not really up to going out and pulling, these days,” I mumbled.

“But you are allowed to have sex, right?”

Ollie sounded really concerned. I looked up into his espresso-brown eyes and tried to smile as I nodded.

“Well, that’s a—”

“Ben! Oh, my God, are you all right?”

Whatever Ollie had been about to say was interrupted by Zoe’s arrival.

“I’m fine,” I told her, but she wasn’t having it.

“You always say that when you’re having a hypo.” She turned to Ollie. “What’s happened? Did you find him like this?”

Ollie took over and explained about his trip to the fridge to find my Lucozade stash, much to my relief as I really didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of one of Zoe’s “look after yourself” lectures.

It took the two of them to help me to my feet and then get me ensconced on the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table. I noticed Ollie discreetly slip the DVD back into the package and place it on my telly. I should have told him not to bother—Zoe would probably want to borrow the damn thing.

Before he left, Ollie turned to me, looking strangely ill at ease and jiggling on his feet.

“Listen, I’d love to come round this evening and check up on you, but I’ve got a shift at the café, and I can’t really let them down.”

Yeah, right. Now he’d seen me properly ill, he couldn’t wait to get away. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bright spots appeared on Ollie’s cheeks. “Christ, you’re hard work sometimes.”

“Well, there’s no need to put yourself out. I’m just a customer, after all.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out, but I wasn’t going to take them back. He’d seen enough of my weakness for one day.

He shook his head at me, muttering as he left the room. I heard the front door slam.

Zoe came through holding two cups of tea and one of my carefully rationed juice bottles.

“Where’s he gone?” she asked. “Benji, did you go and say something stupid?”

I tried to hide my face in the cushions. “Thought you didn’t like him.”

Zoe huffed. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s just a bit young for you. At least he can keep his head in a crisis, though. Would have thought you’d be glad to have him stay for tea.”

“He had to get back to work,” I mumbled.

She gave me a long look but obviously decided it wasn’t worth pursuing that line of questioning when I was due a lecture about looking after myself. I strapped myself in for the ride. Zoe was right, and I knew it.

I had a terrible night. Zoe’s words kept echoing round my head, and I cringed with shame every time I recalled how I’d spoken to Ollie. Poor guy must be totally confused about me and my mixed messages. Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to be friends anymore. I still couldn’t swallow Zoe’s assertion that he was “well into me”, but I certainly didn’t want to lose the first real friend I’d made in the last couple of years. I wasn’t counting the ones I’d made online, as I’d told them so much bullshit, they had no idea who I really was.

I needed to make amends in some way. I’d have to invite him round, make him coffee or something. He loved coffee, didn’t he? And at least I’d get the vicarious pleasure of smelling the stuff even if I couldn’t drink any myself. I had a bag of coffee beans in the freezer still, kept just in case Zoe ever needed a pick-me-up on her way into work. My mind made up, I managed a few hours sleep, and although I felt like hell when I eventually woke up, I did manage to pull on some new clothes, eat a bowl of muesli and get my first dialysate bag infused. I was rubbing my eyes in front of my monitor when the doorbell made me jump out of my skin.