‘Yes,’ I grumble, but I’m glad that he asked.
‘And promise you’ll stop ignoring your mum’s calls? The only reason she kept shtum about is because I asked her to. She doesn’t deserve any of the blame, and she misses you.’
I’m not sure I fully agree, after all she went along with his lie, but I’d hate to be put in her position. Just the idea of having to lie to Dad because Simo asked me to gives me a stomach-ache. I nod and promise to ring her.
He heads back out to finish closing up the cafe, but halts in the hallway.
‘So are we watching something later, or what?’
I check my phone to see if Simo’s messaged. He’s sent a selfie holding different snacks – crinkle crisps and cheese twists – and a question mark. My heart halts, then tumbles. That’s the effect he has on me, a reaction so physical my body basically gives out. Even though the picture is blurry, the veins on the back of his hands have me weak, but it’s the tip of his tongue pressed against his top lip that almost sends me to my knees. He immediately followed up to say he got the crispsandthe twists. How I exist next to this human every day and keep my cool, I don’t know.
Dad clears his throat, and I blink several times before I remember his question.
‘It’s betweenThe FavouriteandCruel Intentions,’ I answer.
‘Which is gayer?’ he asks.
Fact is, they’re gay in different ways, but hopefully not so gay as to make it awkward watching it with Simo. One has cut-throat lesbians fighting for power in amazing clothes, the other has chaotic bisexuals fighting for power in amazing clothes, plus a gay blackmailing side plot. Now that I think about it,The Favouriteis the safer choice.
‘Wait,Cruel Intentionsis the one with Ryan Phillippe’s bum, right? I want that one,’ Dad says, and walks out before I get the chance to argue.
CHAPTER 12 – SIMO
Luca’s breath brushes the fine hair on my neck. His forehead is against the base of my skull, lips inches from my skin. He is fast asleep. My mind is in a dreamlike state that allows me not to think about Luca’s proximity, about his hands folded over my shoulder blades. I float in the comfort of his touch and the knowledge that he seeks mine, even when he’s unaware of doing so.
Irritation rises in my chest and unravels the blanket of obliviousness I’ve wrapped myself in. My body anticipates the buzz of Luca’s phone before I do. The alarm is aggressive enough in broad daylight, but now it splits the room’s drowsy silence like an axe. I reach out and quash the loathsome sound before it has a chance to build. It makes no difference; Luca would sleep through it regardless. The alarm only serves to wake me so I can wake him.
I nudge him with my shoulder, not that anything comes of it. The back of my T-shirt is trapped beneath Luca’s unconscious body. I wear it, not because I get cold, but because Luca sleeps without one, and I need a safety layer between us. His nose nuzzles my arm, and it takes extreme effort to pry myself away and create the distance requiredfor two boys sharing one bed and absolutely no romantic feelings.
I inhale. Luca smells drowsy, of sweat and sleep. My chest expands as I take several more breaths, until I realise what I’m doing. He looks so peaceful that I don’t have it in me to use any of my more brutal methods. I tickle the spot where his jaw meets his neck and feel the softest stubble beneath my fingertips. He scrunches his brow, but I don’t stop until he groans, eyelids twitching, and swats my hand away.
‘Simo, no,’ he mumbles, and something flutters in my ribcage, knowing that his day starts with my name on his lips.
‘Luca, yes,’ I reply, and take his pillow away when he attempts to bury his head beneath it.
When he’s finally up and has gone to lend a hand in the cafe, I seek and find the pocket of warmth where his body was and doze for another hour.
‘Before you leave, could you do me a favour?’ Maz asks when I enter the cafe, where the morning bustle is in full swing. A queue of bright-eyed customers clogs the space between door and counter, and Luca dances around them, balancing dirty plates. ‘Could you deliver a coffee to her majesty Miss M? I’ve not had a bathroom break in hours and if I pour another drink, I might have an accident I’ll never live down.’
I grin and nod.
‘My saviour, my hero,’ Maz shouts as he hands me the cup and runs for his life.
Two floors up, I knock, and a regal voice commands me to enter. I’ve been here before, but always with Luca. Whenwe were little we’d visit when Maz refused us sweets, so we’d turn to Miss M, with her stash of cookie tins always ready for us.
‘Simo Lorca,’ she says when I deliver the drink, ‘my, you’ve grown even prettier than when I last saw you. You’ve got the eyes of Scheherazade and her lashes too. The girls at school must love and loathe you.’ I almost blush at the flattery. ‘Now don’t just simper there like a docile English rose, sit and chat with this old woman.’
She slurps the coffee and smacks her lips in delight. ‘But maybe you don’t care for these girls. Maybe you’re far too preoccupied with someone else, hmm?’
There’s zero chance I’m having this conversation. ‘Sorry, Miss M, I have to—’
But before I can finish my excuse, she ploughs on. ‘Tell me, have you discovered who pulled that noticeboard trick on you and Luca?’
I try to keep my face composed, because I’m not in the habit of giving old ladies the evil eye, even when they’re prying into things that are none of their business.
‘We haven’t, no,’ I snap.
‘Hmm, it would be easier to narrow down the suspects if we knew whether they were motivated by good intentions or malevolence,’ she ponders, and takes another sip.
