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“Yeah, I am. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to hang out with you. I’m an arsehole, but I’m not that mean. And you already know I’m not good at hiding my feelings. Remember the first time you annoyed me?”

I chuckled softly. “The boundary markings. Oh, I was so cross about those!”

“I’m aware. So was Darcy.” He grinned. He was still holding my face. I almost didn’t want him to let go.

“Poor Darcy.”

“Eh, he’s fine. He’s got a hot boyfriend now to make everything better.”

“That always helps,” I said, a nervous smile on my lips. I didn’t tell many people I was queer. Mostly because I didn’t know people to tell them in the first place.

“Right? God, what I wouldn’t give to get laid again,” he said with an exaggerated groan of distress, finally letting go of my face and reaching for the abandoned ice cream. “I fucking love my job, but it is not good for finding hook-ups. Or giving me time to get to them.”

“Well, maybe this winter,” I said as I took the tub from him. There were a lot of thoughts suddenly bubbling to the surface in my mind, and I was very glad Milo couldn’t read them.

“Maybe. But there will also be a distinct lack of hot tourists, and I’m not sure how many other hot queer guys there are available here.”

Me, I thought. There was always me.

You could ask me.

“You don’t know anyone, do you?” Milo asked casually. “Or fancy the occasional shag? I promise I’m a good lay. I’ll get references if you need them.”

“Er… I…”

“Don’t worry, I’m only teasing,” he said with a wink. “Come on, let’s make some tea. Then you can show me this fucked-up ship stuff!”

“Okay,” I said, my arms moving slowly, like I was dragging them through treacle. My mind was spinning and the only thing I could think about was how I wanted to answer his question.

Yes.

Chapter Seven

Milo

“How would you feel about getting lunch with me?” I asked as I leant casually on the counter of Saltgate Sweets the following Thursday. My aim was to look cool, charming, and suave, and not like I was bricking it at the idea of asking Rupert out for lunch. And I thought I was pulling it off.

In my mind I was at least, and that was what mattered. Confidence came from within. If I thought I looked cool, I looked cool.

Rupert, on the other hand, looked flustered as fuck and it was adorable. “Oh, er, well, that would be⁠—”

“Yes. The correct answer is: yes, I’d love to, thank you,” Norman said, popping up behind Rupert and putting his hand in the small of his back, gently pushing him towards the end of the counter.

“Is it?” Rupert asked with complete bewilderment.

“Yes,” Norman repeated with a firm nod and another push on Rupert’s spine. “Go on, get your coat and take this young man up on his offer.” He looked me up and down, and I couldn’t tell if he was appraising me with benevolence or condemnation. From what I’d heard about Norman, it was more likely to be the second.

I’d tried to look a bit more put together today though, in a pair of vintage jeans, my trusty boots, and a sweatshirt with dripping ice cream and slogan on the chest, which was a test print for some Lick It! merch.

I wanted to use the winter to try out a few different designs and see how they looked before we launched them next spring, and what better way to try them out than to model them myself.

I’d thrown an old bomber jacket over the top too, which I’d found in a charity shop in Newcastle, and added my trusty beanie, because it was pissing it down—again—and I was sick of getting a wet head.

The universe was clearly punishing me for shaving my head, and I’d decided to try and grow my hair back as quickly as possible. I didn’t think I’d do a mullet or wolf cut again, but I’d see how I felt when I had enough hair to do something with.

“Where are you taking him for lunch?” Norman asked, his tone implying there were many wrong answers to the question.

“Wherever Rupert wants to go. But I was going to suggest Novel Tea as a first option—they do pretty good sandwiches. And their cakes are lush.”