The Hot Floor (5 page)

Evan threw his hands up in mock annoyance. “Fine! You don’t want to take lessons from the master, may all your tomatoes turn into seedless rings.”

Rai rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?”

As I met Rai’s mischievous gaze, the last of my anxiety fell away. Hell, yes, I could play cheesy marble-and-stick-related games with these guys, and I could enjoy either winning or losing. And there was the prospect of lunch tomorrow.

“Go on, then,” I said. “Count me in.”

Three hours later, I stumbled up the stairwell with a potted baby spider plant in each hand and a date for cooking lunch with Rai the next day. It was the best evening I’d had in a long time. Since Kenny. No, scratch that, since before Kenny.

I wished I could spend all of my evenings with the two of them.

Chapter Four

Someone was beating on my door, rousing me from heavy layers of sleep. I entertained a moment’s fantasy that it was Rai and Evan come to deal with my morning wood, before reality shattered that daydream.

“Hey, Josh man, you got a screwdriver I could borrow?” Vern’s whining voice was like a bucket of cold water thrown over my privates, and I kicked off the single sheet before hopping into yesterday’s boxers and staggering over to the door.

He stood outside—my top-floor neighbour—looking unreasonably perky for whatever time of day it was. I realised in the five months I’d lived here, I’d never once seen him before he got stoned. I’m guessing this was pre-first-spliff-of-the-day for him. I couldn’t smell any of his habitually weedy aroma, anyway.

“Screwdriver?” Vern asked again.

“Um, yeah. Hang on.” I trudged back to my kitchenette and pulled my toolbox out of the cupboard under the sink. “Phillips head or straight?”

“Huh?”

“The screwdriver. What kind do you need?”

“Dunno, man, just something that’ll unscrew a floorboard.”

I sighed. Vern must have somehow missed the gene enabling straight guys to deal with DIY. “They’re usually nailed down, and are you sure you should be messing with the floorboards?”

“Nah, man, this one’s totally screwed.” He smirked as if he’d said something funny. “Like that chick I brought back last night.”

“Yeah, thanks, I heard.” I might not be able to hear the noises from downstairs, but I got what felt like ringside tickets to Vern’s sexual exploits, more’s the pity. I supposed I should be thankful they never lasted all that long. Whoever converted this building into flats had done a pretty shoddy job, it had to be said. Not only were the walls paper-thin up here, but the floorboards heaved up and down like a ship’s deck. There was one in my bathroom that protested alarmingly every time I stepped on it.

“So you’re fixing a creaking board, are you?”

Vern looked shifty. “Something like that.”

“No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Here, take the lot. I’m going out in a bit, so just leave them outside the door when you’re finished.”

“Cheers, mate.”

I watched Vern lope back across the tiny landing and into his own studio. He was another jammy git. Not only did he score regularly, but he had the south-facing flat with the good view out over the gardens and the river.

But I’d be getting my fill of that view today while helping Rai learn to cook risotto.

I hummed as I got myself quickly showered and dressed, and was still smiling as I headed down the road to Waitrose to buy ingredients.

“That bloke with the garden is out again,” Rai announced from his position by the kitchen window.

“Who, Cliff?” I replied, measuring out spoonfuls of bouillon powder. Rai was not turning out to be the most attentive kitchen helper. More of a distraction than anything else.

“Yep, that’s the one. You’d think with all that garden, he’d make better use of it. When I think what we’d do with a garden…”

I didn’t really want to think about what Rai and Evan might get up to in a garden. Not in these shorts, which didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Is that what all the spider plants are about, then?” I asked. “You’re a frustrated gardener?”

“I think I must be, but I’ve never actually had one to find out. I’d like to live somewhere on the edge of town with a bit more space around us. We’ve been saving up for a deposit on a mortgage. Nearly there now.”

My face fell. Good thing I was facing the stove and Rai was looking out the window. “That’ll be nice for you.” I did wish them well, I really did. I was just selfish enough to want them to stay around for my benefit. Still, it wasn’t like I’d get any say in the matter.

“So what’s so special about this rice anyway?” Rai asked, peering over my shoulder into the pan. Did he really need to stand quite so close? It was way too tantalising. I stirred the swelling grains of Arborio rice to take my mind off his body heat.

“It’s stickier than the usual stuff,” I hedged, not entirely sure myself. “I dunno. It’s what my mum used to use.”

“Used to?” Rai’s voice was soft, nonjudgmental.

“Yeah. She died when I was nine. A brain aneurism.”

I braced myself for the usual platitudes, but they didn’t come. Instead, I felt Rai’s arms snake around my waist and his breath warm against my neck.

“That’s rough,” he said eventually. “Did you have time to say good-bye properly?”

I sighed. How had he managed to cut straight to the thing that really mattered? “Kind of. Not sure she heard any of it, though.”

Rai remained quiet for a while, and I was lulled by the reassuring weight of him against my back. But eventually, the rice began to stick.

“Could I have some more of the stock, please?”

“Sure.” Rai peeled himself off me, and my body protested the loss while my mind heaved a sigh of relief.

“My mum would probably have a fit if she saw me doing this,” Rai said as he poured a splash of stock into the pan. He then broke into what sounded like scolding in Japanese as he waggled his finger in front of my face.

“Uh, you’ll have to translate for me.”

“She’d have said real men don’t cook, and neither do they share their beds with other men. I’ve been corrupted by
gaijin
customs.”

“So you don’t get along?”

“We love each other, don’t get me wrong, but we get along much better now she and Dad have moved back to Tokyo.”

“So did you grow up there? You don’t have an accent.”

“Nope. Grew up in Swindon, believe it or not. Dad’s an engineer for Honda, and he got transferred over here when I was two, so I don’t remember Japan at all. Other than visiting relatives there.”

“I’d love to travel there one day. It looks beautiful, all those temples by lakes and the cherry blossoms.”

Rai made a face. “Well, you definitely don’t want to go to Tokyo, then. That place is a futuristic nightmare. I feel totally out of place.”

“He’d rather be a seventies throwback than embrace the future. Tokyo’s all right,” Evan said, poking his head around the kitchen door. “Apart from the way everyone stares up at me like I’m some kind of freakish giant. It was worse than moving down south and having to deal with all you soft gits thinking I’m a hard nut just coz I’m from oop north.” Evan hammed up his accent more than usual and put on a bit of swagger.

Rai chuckled. “You love it, really. It’s why you stayed, wasn’t it?” Rai turned to me and stepped closer so he could stage whisper in my ear. “He came down to do a job on some new builds in Bristol, and couldn’t bring himself to go back home where everyone knew he was really a big pussy-cat.”

Evan meowed and winked at Rai. Or it might have been at me. I was too flustered to tell.

“How’s it going?” Evan asked. “Smells amazing.”

I took a step away from Rai, who was still standing very close. He just followed me, though, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“Josh praised my pepper-chopping skills, I’ll have you know.”

“Has he been behaving himself?” Evan asked, smirking.

“Erm, he’s done everything I’ve asked him to,” I replied, knowing that wasn’t what Evan was getting at.

“He normally gropes the hell out of me when I’m cooking, and I can’t concentrate. Wasn’t sure if I’d need to rescue you from his octopus hands.”

“All I’ve done with these hands is chop vegetables, I swear.” Rai held them up with an incredulous expression. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them today, actually. I hope they’re not faulty.”

And then he goosed me.

I jumped about a mile as a red-hot spark of arousal zinged straight to my balls.

“Rai! That’s bloody dangerous. Josh could burn himself.”

“Sorry, Evan. Sorry, Josh.” Rai pulled a contrite face, but the mischief still sparkled in his eyes. “I’ll be more gentle in future.” He reached out, and I swear to God, started massaging my arse, in full view of everyone. My cock perked right up, letting me know it was enjoying the situation even if I wanted to bolt.

“I’m fine.” I gave Evan a nervous glance, hoping he wasn’t annoyed with the fact his boyfriend was openly touching me up. “I can handle him.”

“Hmmm.” Evan’s face wasn’t as easy to read as Rai’s, but I could see the desire burning deep in his eyes. The atmosphere sizzled around us, and all I was aware of was the sensation of Rai’s fingers slowly kneading my flesh and Evan’s dark gaze focused on that spot.

Then a burning smell forced my attention back to the food. “Shit, we need more stock, quick.”

Rai grabbed the jug while I scrubbed the bottom of the saucepan with the spatula. The stock splashed in, hissing and bursting into a fragrant cloud of steam as it hit. Just in the nick of time. “Hope you guys don’t mind a slight barbeque-smoke flavour to your risotto.”

“Anything’s good by me,” Evan said.

“He’s a man of adventurous tastes,” Rai purred into my ear. “I’ll have to tell you about some of them sometime.”

I wondered if the fact I was standing over a hot stove would excuse the heat I could feel spreading up my neck.

“Aww, look, he’s blushing,” Rai teased. “Bet I could make you even redder if I told you what we got up to after you left last night.”

“Rai!” Evan’s voice remained low and gentle, but there was a definite warning tone there.

“What?” Rai sounded aggrieved. “I’m only being friendly.”

“You’re being a cock-tease is what you’re being.”

“Josh doesn’t mind, do you, Josh?”

I looked helplessly between the two of them. If there had been a trace of bad feeling between them then, I’d have been out of there. But no, whatever that unspoken communication passing between them was, they seemed as close as ever.

“I, uh, I don’t mind. Really. If you don’t.”

Evan eventually nodded. “Okay, then, but you give me a yell if he’s bothering you. Or slap him or summit.” A wicked grin teased his lips. “He’d probably enjoy that, though.”

Rai pulled an “O” face. “Oh, yeah, you got that right, baby.” He blew Evan a kiss. “Now then, Joshy-pie, where do you want these prawns?”

The risotto was a resounding success, despite the faint tang of burnt rice, and we ate it in large bowls, sitting on the floor around the coffee table. As guest of honour, they insisted I take the beanbag, while Rai fetched pillows from their bed for the two of them to sit on. They both had the sofa to their backs, and I faced them across the table.

Afterwards, I leant back in the beanbag and wriggled a little to mould it to a more relaxing pose. Warm sunshine fell on my closed eyelids, turning the world a bright orange colour.

“Mmm, cracking food, Grommit,” Evan said before burping loudly. I opened my eyes, grinning.

Rai shook his head. “Man, I am living with such a pig. I apologise for his dreadful table manners.”

“It’s a compliment to the chef. Chefs, I mean, although I don’t reckon you did all that much actual cooking, love.”

Rai looked indignant and poked Evan in the ribs. “Bullshit—it’s you being an uncouth Neanderthal, isn’t it, Josh?”

“Oh, no, don’t you drag me into this,” I said, smiling contentedly. I was starting to get the measure of their good-natured bickering. It wasn’t something I’d ever seen or experienced firsthand, but I found I liked it. I’d have been happy for my parents to act like that. Would have been better than the tense silences and brittle politeness. As a child, I’d accepted it as normal, but seeing how other couples interacted in the years since, I’d had to revise my opinion.

Not that Rai and Evan felt like parental figures or anything, although I was probably a few years younger than them.

“How old are you two anyway?” I asked.

Rai sniffed. “Darling, didn’t you know you should never ask a lady her age?”

Evan guffawed. “Get over it, pet. He’s just turned twenty-five, and I’m thirty-four. What about you? I’m guessing…” Evan squinted at me. “Either twenty-two or a baby-faced forty.”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned. I’m twenty-four, actually.”

“Then you know exactly how I feel about the dreaded quarter century, right?” Rai chimed in.

“Not really. It’s just another birthday, isn’t it?”

“See, that’s what I keep telling you, pet. No need to be such a drama queen. No one else gives a monkey’s about how old you are.”