Page 26 of Topped

“If there’s ever a problem, you can blame me. It’ll probably be my fault,” I said instead. There were a few looks shot my way, but nobody challenged me. I wondered if I’d suddenly made things awkward, but then Jonathan, sweet bean that he was, said,

“You know, I realised the other day I have met Rupert before. I didn’t think I had but he was the poor man Fred roped in to run the tombola at the church fete.”

“Yeah, he was volunteered by Norman,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m sure Rupert would love to find something to volunteer him for in return.”

“I’ll mention it to Fred. I’m sure she can find something. Do you think Norman would make a good narrator? The other day she was muttering something about doing a bigger nativity event before Christmas and needing someone with a good voice,” Jonathan said. He was smiling now and Alfie was gazing at him with adoration. It would have been sickening, if I hadn’t wanted to find someone to do the exact same thing with.

I’d never realised how much I wanted to be in a solid, steady, loving relationship until my friends had started settling down. But seeing them so happy and supported was making me ache with need, a touch of jealousy flaring underneath.

It wasn’t like I hated them for being in love, or wanted them to break up, or any of that shit. I simply wanted that sort of love for myself, and hated that I didn’t have it, even if I hadn’t really considered wanting it until now.

But my brain was contrary like that, and it was very rarely constructive.

“Definitely. He’s a former stage actor, he’d probably love it. Especially if he gets chosen over his husband. Rupert says they’re petty as fuck.”

Owen laughed then paused for a second, like he was putting pieces together. “Wait, is his husband’s name Sidney? I’m sure my dad’s mentioned them before. I think Sidney does tours up at the Castle. People absolutely love him!”

“Yeah, that’s him. At least, I assume so. How many petty old gays can Heather Bay have?”

“I mean, give it thirty or forty years and there’ll be quite a lot of us,” Darcy said.

“Jeez, Darcy, way to make me feel fucking ancient,” I said teasingly. “I already feel old now.”

“Thirty-one is not old,” Alfie said.

“Not unless you’re watching the Olympics,” Owen said wryly. “Every time they talk about someone in their thirties they act like my grandpa’s come out of retirement. I mean, he’s dead, so that doesn’t quite work, but you know what I mean. Like they’re fucking ancient and they’re going to break everything the moment they set foot on the course. Especially when it’s stuff like skating, surfing, or snowboarding. I saw someone called the grandfather of the field and he was twenty-nine! Felt like I had one foot in the grave.”

Darcy leant over and kissed him, smirking as he muttered something under his breath about Owen still having plenty of energy. I sighed and rolled my eyes, prodding Darcy in the arm. “Oi, no dirty talk at the table.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes, you did.”

Darcy scoffed playfully. “If you think that’s dirty talk, you need to get laid more.”

“I plan to,” I said. “And when I do, I shall be a tasteful, classy bastard and not talk about sucking dick over lasagne.”

Alfie snorted and Darcy looked at me pointedly, like he was debating whether to argue with me. Probably thinking about how I’d never been classy in my life.

Which was true.

I occasionally had class, but I’d never been classy. There was a difference.

“You’re going to see Rupert again then?” asked Owen, tearing another bit of garlic bread off and dunking it in his lasagne.

“Yeah, I am.” I wasn’t going to deny it. Why would I? I had nothing to hide. “I like him. He’s cute and interesting and we get on well. Plus, I love Miss Elizabeth, and I would die if I didn’t get to see her again.”

“She is very cute,” Jonathan said. “Does she wear hats? If so, you should get her a bonnet.”

“Oh my God she would look so fucking cute in a bonnet! I need to get one!” I had no idea where I would acquire a snake-sized Regency bonnet, but I wouldn’t rest until I found one.

And with my brain, it was likely to be a literal thing. Once I got an idea fixed in my mind, I found them hard to shake. At least to start with. After a few days, weeks, or even months, the fixation would wear off and I’d never think about it again.

It was why I had a graveyard of forgotten and abandoned hobbies scattered across my flat. I dreaded to think how much I’d spent over the years on things I’d only done a couple of times.

“I bet you could! I mean, I’m sure clothes for dolls would work. Or taxidermy? I mean, Theo has plenty of taxidermied mice in costumes, so someone must make things that small,” Jonathan said, musing over the problem with a seriousness I appreciated.

We kept chatting as we ate, the conversation moving on to Theo and Laurie’s upcoming wedding and Alfie’s progress on finding a suit, to Darcy and Owen’s plans for the winter, to local gossip. I mentioned Alex’s question about potentially supplying Novel Tea too, and we briefly discussed it, although we moved on swiftly because we’d decided to try and steer clear of anything to do with work.