Harry slides into the middle of the seat. “I know you’ve just broken up with George, so I don’t want this to sound as though I’m insensitive or that I don’t give a shit, but Lan and I are like official now.”
“Oh my god, for real?” Pi asks, checking his mirror once again and pulling out of the space.
“I went over his place last night and . . . yeah, we decided it was worth a try. Boyfriends. Actual, proper boyfriends,” he says.
I spare a glance over my shoulder, and Abs’s face is beetroot red. “Is this the rich kid from Gadget’s wedding on Saturday? The one with the see-through shirt?”
Abs gives a nervous laugh. “Yeah.” He puffs out a breath like he’s been running laps around the car park. “That’s him.”
“Sweet. Get in there, pard.” I high-five him. “That guy’s fucking loaded.”
“Well, his dad cut him off, but . . .” Abs doesn’t finish his sentence.
“I’m so happy for you, bro,” Pi says. I can’t be sure because he’s determinedly concentrating on the road, but his eyes—well, the one eye that I can see—looks a bit watery.
“You’re not pissed because of George?” Abs says.
“I mean, I’m a little jealous that you’ve found true love, not gonna lie there, but mostly I’m just glad you cunts have figured your shit out. I can’t believe it took you so long. An entire year with a broken heart. So, what happened last night, then?”
While Abs explains how he and this “Lan” fella went from friends to enemies to officially in love, I discreetly, or as discreetly as I can, watch Pi’s reactions and try to quash the weird ache rising in my chest.
I have a girlfriend, an official partner in crime, and yet, I love her like a friend. Which is not the same way that Abs loves Orlando.
Fuck, I want that. Pi was right when he said he was a little jealous. I’m a little jealous too.
Actually . . . a lot jealous.
When we arrive at Teach’s, a pirate-themed burger and seafood restaurant slash bar, there’s a lanky streak of piss dressed in all black waiting for us in a booth. Orlando is one of those young gays who looks like he’s just fallen straight off a Parisian runway. He’s not wearing shades indoors or smoking a cigarette, but it wouldn’t look out of place if he were.
“Congratulations on your official boyfriend status,” Pi says to Lando as we slide into the wooden panelled booth designed to feel like a ship’s galley.
Abs practically mounts his boyfriend. “Babygirl. God, I’ve missed you.”
“My king,” Orlando whispers back, kissing him wetly and noisily on the mouth.
“Sir, this is a Teach’s,” I say, and Abs’s cheeks flush bright pink, but he dismounts and sits on the leather seat.
I cosy up next to Pi, squashing him against the wall, and immediately place my hand over his knee. It’s warm today. He’s wearing shorts, and his hairs stand to attention at my touch. A different part of my body stands to attention, but I ignore it. Though I am glad it’s unnaturally dark inside this restaurant.
“Thank you,” Orlando says to Pi. “Sorry to hear about Georgia.” Abs must have filled his boyfriend in on all the gossip.
I half expect Pi to flinch at the sound of her name or gasp or suck in a breath, but he remains still and calm. My fingers trace circles against his bare skin, and for an infinitesimal moment, his eyes flutter closed.
He realises he hasn’t responded to Orlando, so he nods. “Thanks.”
A waiter drops by with menus and takes our drink order.
“Okay, so what did Coach say?” Abs says.
Pi waits for the waiter to depart. “That we either need to get our shit together and work, like . . . together, or they’re going to select one of us . . .” He motions his hand between himself and me. “To be Han Solo.”
“Just one captain, then? Not co-captains?” Abs asks.
“Yup,” I say.
Pi sighs and murmurs his confirmation. “Mmhmm.”
“And you both want this? So that’s a definite yes for co-captains?”
