Xavier leans closer. “Liar,” he whispers. He pastes a sunny smile on his face and looks at Jez. “Are we ready? This looks epic.”
Jez gives him a distracted smile. “Yeah. Glad you like the idea. Reuben had to pull a few favours to get the tickets.”
Shit. I bite my lip, and Xavier turns a sparkling glance at me. “Who would have thought that?” he says merrily.
Shut up, I mouth.
The old building still bears traces of its former existence in its high ceilings and the ornate stonework. I pause when we enter the main hall, getting my bearings.
My brain automatically scans for snipers, noting potential positions. I curl my fingers into fists and shove them into my pockets, holding on to threads of reality.I’m in England. I’m safe.I chant the words silently and close my eyes until I slowly relax, feeling my heart slow its frantic beat.
A few moments later, I open my eyes, taking in the people milling around. Xavier is watching me, his eyes as bright as a blackbird’s and twice as curious. I brace myself for twenty questions, but he just smiles at me. Then he pats my arm. “I think the villain section first.”
“Oh—” I clear my throat. “That’s fine with me. It seems very suited to your personality.”
“Thank you.”
Jez appears at my side, making me jump. He thankfully doesn’t notice as he’s checking his phone. “Jack’s been trying to get me,” he says, referencing our editor. “Any message for him?”
I shake my head slowly. “None,” I say hoarsely.
I stare at him. He’s so happy and excited by this return to Afghanistan. We’ve both been through exactly the same terrible things in our professional lives. He was by my side through everything, so how is it that he’s so blithe and seemingly unaffected, and I’m quivering like a stray dog in a storm? It makes me feel small and almost ashamed.
He pats my arm. “Okay. I’ll give him the details of the trip.” He looks over at Xavier almost as an afterthought. “Do you mind looking around with Reuben? This call is important.”
I wince, but Xavier just gives him a sweet smile. If I were Jez, it might make me nervous, but he doesn’t notice. “Not at all,” Xavier says. “Work is work.”
Jez gives him the most approving look he’s levelled at him so far and disappears into the crowd, heading for the exit.
“He didn’t mean that,” I say. He raises an eyebrow, so I elaborate. “It’s not more important than you.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. I get to see the show with you. Winner-winner-chicken-dinner as far as I’m concerned.”
The next few hours are possibly the most pleasurable of my adult life, which, I suppose says something about the way I’ve been spending my time if watching a beautiful boy with a happy smile on his face is the pinnacle. Nevertheless, that’s how I feel as I trail after him. He selects an array of informational leaflets from each exhibit space, and I take them all as he hands them to me, a bemused smile on my face.
“Have I become a pack horse, and no one told me?” I ask.
He laughs and then slaps my arse. “Giddy up, Brian. Get a move on, yousillypony.”
I shy away, gazing frantically around, but luckily Jez isn’t back from his latest phone call. He’s barely spent ten minutes with Xavier which rather negates the purpose of this visit. “Be careful,” I chide Xavier, trying not to smile as he assumes a pious expression. “And don’t bother looking at me like you’re innocent.”
“Bah, I haven’t been innocent in a long time.”
“A long time? You’re only fucking nineteen.”
“Yes, but I’ve packed a lot of living into my time on this earth. I might even have wrinkles.”
“Yes, you’re positively fucking ancient.” I edge closer to him as we stand in front of bright artwork. The display isn’t part of the main exhibit—the lighting isn’t as bright here and the alcove is deserted apart from us. “Let me see these wrinkles,” I say huskily, and the laughter fades from his face. What the fuck am I doing? I should move away and make a joke. Instead, we stare at each other, and the moment slows.
“Reuben,” he whispers.
I lean even closer, drawn into his gaze as if his blue eyes are some sort of tractor beam.
“Are we nearly done?” We both jump as Jez’s voice comes from behind us.
I resist the urge to press my hand to my chest like a character in a scary movie, and breathe in subtly, but Jez’s expression and demeanour are mostly bored as he pauses to look at the art.
He probably couldn’t imagine anyone finding his son charming and interesting.
