Somewhere To Be (3 page)

For his own part, Jamie pressed up against Nick, even as Nick pressed down against him, and they rocked together languidly, more interested in each other’s sounds and reactions than racing toward any kind of climax. It was the perfect reintroduction to sex for Jamie, and he gave himself over to the journey, letting Nick guide him and set the pace.

By the time they’d both wriggled out of their jeans and shoes, their movements had taken on a desperate edge. The gravelly groan that made its way out of Nick’s throat as Jamie worked a hand down into his underwear to grip him and begin working him slowly had Jamie shivering from head to toe.

Nick shoved his boxers down without ceremony and tugged Jamie’s down too, pausing momentarily to rake his eyes over Jamie’s supine, naked form. His eyes were dark and hungry as he crawled back over him, their erections bumping and catching in a way that had them both closing their eyes and then repeating the movement again and again. Neither of them spoke, no urging words or begging. They were both quiet and content to breathe together and trust that the other one knew what was needed, their movements accompanied only by whimpers and quiet groans that made Jamie’s stomach ache with lust.

Laid out and touching from head to toe, Nick slipped his hands beneath Jamie, cupping and kneading his ass and urging him to grind up against Nick. They were both kissing sloppily, pausing to groan and pant against each other’s mouths and jaws and necks. When Nick brushed a finger over Jamie’s lips and Jamie sucked it hungrily, their eyes locked knowingly.

Nick moved his hand back to slip between Jamie’s cheeks, the wet finger dabbling lightly over his hole and pressing in just enough to make Jamie buck. Jamie wrapped a hand around them both and rubbed, hurtling toward the kind of orgasm he’d barely realized he missed, and as soon as he bowed up and groaned, spurting between them, Nick was responding in kind, curling closer with stuttering hips and eyes squeezed shut.

The whole thing was messy and beautiful and oddly cathartic, right down to their stumbling journey to the bathroom to wipe each other down and then collapsing onto Jamie’s bed, wriggling beneath the covers for warmth and pressing their now cold feet together. It felt oddly familiar and yet totally alien to Jamie, to be wrapped up in strong arms and kissed just for the sake of kissing.

“My nose is cold,” whispered Jamie, not really wanting to break the sleepy, sated silence but wanting to listen to Nick talk whilst Jamie had his head pressed against his chest and would feel the rumble. An odd thing to enjoy perhaps, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

“Poor baby,” said Nick with a teasing inflection. He yanked the covers up over their heads, cocooning them both. “There, give it a minute.”

Jamie laughed and pushed his face up against Nick’s neck, giggling—yes, giggling—when Nick yelped.

“Jesus! It’s freezing,” he exclaimed.

“Told you so,” replied Jamie, snickering quietly. He squeaked when Nick mock growled at him and rolled them, pinning Jamie beneath him. Jamie could barely see with the light blocked out by the covers, but he could make out Nick’s predatory grin.

“I’ll warm you up,” Nick purred, nuzzling Jamie’s jaw. Jamie bit his lip and moved into the touch, definitely ready for round two, only to have his face grabbed by Nick and held in place. Jamie squealed when Nick lunged down and covered Jamie’s nose with his mouth, kissing it with warm lips and making big smacking sounds, laughing and wriggling until Nick got thoroughly distracted by the wriggles and decided playtime was over for now. Round two was on.

J
UST
ABOUT
everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

Jamie had woken up so snug and warm, wrapped around a sleeping Nick, and they’d lazily kissed the early morning away before Nick left and Jamie headed to the airport. Now he was stuck in heavy traffic on the motorway, and the traffic news bleating from the radio wasn’t promising. It had been snowing since early morning, and in typical English fashion, the second a snowflake touched the ground
and settled
, there was travel chaos.

It was already pushing two fifteen, and the plane had probably already landed, and no way was Jamie going to be there even close to on time.

He picked up his phone and, seeing as he was at a current standstill in traffic, decided to risk making a call.

“Hey, Ba, I’m in traffic. It’s really bad,” he said.

“Aiyo, Jamie,” his dad sighed.

Jamie winced.

“What time did you leave?”

“I left at midday. It should have been plenty.”

“Snow, eh?”

“Exactly. Snow. Motorway traffic. In snow,” Jamie whined, emphasizing his unhappiness with pointed enunciation.

“Auntie will call when they arrive. I will tell them you are on the way.”

“Cheers, Dad. Tell them it’ll probably be a while?”

His dad grumbled his assent, telling Jamie to keep safe, and hung up, leaving Jamie to his traffic news and the occasional impotent honks of car horns.
No matter how much noise you make, mate, we aren’t moving.

His phone beeped, signaling an incoming text, and Jamie preemptively smiled. He and Nick had been texting back and forth all afternoon.

How’s it going? Crawled any closer?

Jamie huffed and typed out a quick reply, feeling guilty for texting in his car even though it was basically parked now.

Nope! If I die of hypothermia (or old age—equally as likely in this traffic) I’m going to be so mad.

Nick replied almost instantly.

Drama queen aintcha;) Also maybe only person I know to use () in a text
…

Jamie poked his tongue out at the phone and dropped it onto the empty seat next to him, inching forward with the backed-up traffic.

He and Nick had parted ways this morning, with promises to meet up again and maybe try a tentative date-type thing. Even though they’d already done the not-so-tentative hookup-type thing. It made Jamie feel giddy to even contemplate. Nick seemed like such a great guy, solid and unassuming, and he didn’t put any pressure on Jamie, which was a refreshing change.

His ex, Steve, had been king of pressure and expectations, and Jamie rarely lived up to it. He was one of those guys who had a good job and let it become everything he was. Jamie had been flattered when Steve—tall, gorgeous, and confident—had shown an interest in him when he’d started up with the company. Steve wasn’t his direct manager, but he was a manager nonetheless, and he had no problem flirting with the staff, man or woman, to get what he needed.

But it was different with Jamie, or so he’d thought, and soon enough they were dating. Keeping it quiet because of work, but Jamie was happy. Steve was generous and attentive and all those lovely things that can turn controlling in the blink of an eye.

So fast and so subtly, in fact, that Jamie didn’t even notice it happening. Within six months he was seeing his friends less, dressing differently, generally being more demure and deferring. He just felt grateful that Steve noticed him and wanted to look after him, and Steve made it clear that he didn’t
need
Jamie. That there were other guys out there for him, and wasn’t he just so nice for sticking around? Even when Jamie was such a constant disappointment?

In retrospect it made Jamie cringe. Even more so when he recalled how he didn’t pack up and leave when Steve started cheating on him, barely bothering to conceal it. He had a little Japanese international student from the university on the side. He was a self-proclaimed rice queen, and the term alone made Jamie want to throw up in his mouth a little. He despised being fetishized, but he’d let it continue anyway.

The icing on the cake had come when he’d been made redundant following only a year at the company—most of which he’d spent in a relationship with Steve—and upon discovering Steve was in charge of the redundancies, Jamie had finally had enough. He’d called Steve out on it all and ended up jobless and homeless to boot. So back to his family and their cozy kitchen and boxing up food for hungry patrons, with his wages all going toward rent. He
refused
to move back home. He was just thankful to be away from Steve.

Still, Jamie was once burned twice shy, and even though he liked Nick a lot, he was nervous. Skittish. Ready to jump ship at the first sign of trouble.

He yanked himself out of the trip down memory lane and focused on the traffic news and the clock, ticking past 3:00 p.m. now. He was beyond bored, and the radio was doing nothing but frustrating him further, so he jabbed the off button, and when the phone rang he snatched it up without hesitation, just thankful for the break in monotony.

“Jamie,” said a smooth, low voice.

Jamie froze and tried to swallow.

“Just calling to see how you are.”

Jamie hadn’t thought he’d hear from Steve again, and yet here he was. Still that calm voice, polite but with a slight edge.

He realized he’d been quiet for a while now and forced himself back into motion. “I’m fine. What do you want?” he asked, sounding a little pitiful, truth be told. Like a defiant kid.

“Jamie, really.” Steve all but tutted. “I’m just reaching out to old friends. Call it holiday nostalgia. You know how I get.”

The smile on his lips was evident from his tone of voice, and Jamie flinched at the implied familiarity. Yeah, he knew how Steve got.

“Sure, of course. Well. I’m fine.”

“Mmmhmm. As you said. Not going to ask how I am?”

“Okay. How are you?” Jamie dropped his head, resting his forehead on the cool leather wheel, wishing he could just hang up. But that was childish and played exactly into Steve’s game.

“I’m doing well, Jamie. Admittedly, I do miss you, though,” he said softly. Imploringly.

“Oh,” Jamie croaked out. “I—”

“Don’t you miss me, even a little, Jamie?” Steve asked.

“No, not really,” Jamie mumbled, wishing he could grow a spine and say it like he meant it, but Steve had always made him like this. He hated it.

“No, I guess not. Too busy with your new muscle, hmm? What’s his name? Nick?”

Steve’s voice took on a sharp edge, and Jamie jerked upright in his seat.

“How do—” he began haltingly.

“How do I know? About you and he? His name? All of the above?” Steve laughed a little. “Ask Nick about me,” Steve purred. “I wouldn’t expect the truth from him, though, but let’s just say I don’t exclusively go for Asians.”

Jamie blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing without much by way of sound. Steve and Nick?
Steve
and
Nick?
It was such an unlikely pairing; or was it? Steve was pretty active in the scene, and he had no qualms about hookups, which was part of the reason Jamie hated being dragged out by his friends. And Nick? Well, Jamie reasoned, he didn’t know Nick all that well.

“Shocked you, have I, Jay?” Steve asked mockingly. “Poor Jamie. Believe me when I say Nick has more expansive tastes than you. Even your exoticism can only get you so far.” He paused and continued softly, sounding sincere and a little resigned. He was always good at whiplash moods. “As someone who cares for you, Jamie, I’m suggesting you look after yourself.”

Steve offered his good-byes and hung up, knowing well and clear from Jamie’s silence that he’d planted seeds of doubt. The first guy Jamie had had those messy butterflies for in almost a year, and Steve had stomped all over them.

He inched the car forward mechanically, working through a haze of worry, feeling like a complete mug once again. He was almost thankful when it started to sway toward anger, and finally he was blessedly pissed off instead of feeling pathetic. He picked up his phone and dialed Nick.

“Hey, you,” Nick said happily. “How’s it going? At the airport yet?”

“No, not yet. How do you know Steve?” Jamie asked briskly. He figured he should get this done before the anger fizzled away.

“Steve? Steve who?” Nick sounded confused and wary.

“Steve Graham,” Jamie replied in a clipped voice.

“Steve… Graham?” Nick asked, still confused. His breath hitched for a moment. “Hold on. You’re
that
Jamie?” he asked.

Jamie flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Yeah, I’m
that
Jamie,” he ground out. His pathetic reputation preceded him, it seemed. “Look, Nick, I can’t do this. I can’t be tangled up in Steve and all of that. I don’t want any links to that guy anymore, and I can’t just—” He paused and took a breath. “I’ll let you down. It’s what I do,” he said quietly.

He’d thought he’d been doing so well with getting himself back on track, but truth was he was just a guy working in a takeaway and barely scraping by on rent. He definitely wasn’t a catch, and his doubts all bubbled up in his chest, replacing anything good he’d felt before when talking to Nick.

“Jamie, look, I—” Nick began softly.

Jamie hated that placating tone, one Steve had used so often when he said Jamie was being unreasonable and childish.

It raised his hackles again. “It’s fine, Nick. Like I said. I’ll see you around sometime,” he snapped, ending the call and flicking the phone to vibrate. It buzzed in his hand before he’d even dropped it onto the seat, but he ignored it and turned up the radio, drowning out the little insistent sound. He was much better off not going down that road again, and he knew it. But it didn’t stop him feeling achingly lonely as he sat there.

S
O
THERE
was no way they were making it home tonight. The motorways were backed up, not only from the snow but also from cars being left on the roadside as their drivers sought warmth from the rest stops. The airport was hectic, an absolute riot of angry people missing their flights or being delayed and frantic staff trying to smooth things over and get people where they should be.

The chairs were full of weary people, and the floor was littered with bags, and even those people who were just sick of standing around waiting and had decided to hunker down against the walls. It was, in a word, hell.