Page 42 of Compulsion

“I can see.” Seve moved along the bar toward me, revelers scattering around him like the parting of a human sea. I braced a hand on the counter, not sure what I was trying to steel myself against. He didn’t touch me, but his smile grew as he reached my side. “The duty manager has already arranged things with your friend Mr. Wallis. We’ll make it a night to remember for his dancer.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s part of my job,” he said dismissively. He didn’t seem to have any other questions, like I’d expected. He stared at my lips as I spoke. I fought an irresistible desire to moisten them with a lick or two.

“I’ll get you a drink,” he said and raised a hand to call for one of the bar staff.

“Not for me,” I said quickly. “I’m not drinking at the moment.” I didn’t add, since this morning, actually. I’d toasted Louis’s birthday at home last night with a beer—Bryan’s cocktail recipes inevitably led to both headache and indigestion—but after that, I’d called a halt. Things had to change, I reminded myself. Considering all the habits I might slip back into, drink was the first and easiest to address.

Seve raised an eyebrow. “Water, then?”

“Sure.”

A passing female bartender reached for my glass, then caught sight of Seve beside me. She fumbled the glass and nearly dropped it. He snapped his fingers sharply and she grimaced at me.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Get the water,” Seve said very softly. His tone was icy, and she scurried off.

“No need for that,” I said. “Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to be some kind of bully.”

He blinked at me. Staff matters were obviously already far from his mind. “I missed you, Max.”

“It’s only been a few days.” Seven! Seven! my body protested.

The chilled water arrived, a bottle for each of us. I watched as Seve was more polite in his thanks to the bartender this time. He pulled over two stools so that we could sit together at the bar, and although the music was loud, we were in the farthest spot from the speakers and could more or less hear each other talk. People pushed past us now and then, but the dance set had moved into the heavy numbers and flashing lights, and most of the clubgoers were out on the floor. Human voices yelled and laughed above the techno beat, which throbbed up through our seats. Sweat made the dancers’ hair damp and their bare torsos glisten. People pressed and clung and caressed—they were all having a bloody good time. I wasn’t sure if I was included in that.

Seve nudged my knee with his, regaining my attention. A shiver ran through my body as if a thread of electricity ran between us. “Will you come back with me to the flat, Max?”

“Now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No,” I said. Of course? “I’m here with Louis and Jack. I’m not leaving right now.”

Surprisingly, Seve nodded agreement. “You’ll sit with me for the moment?”

“I… yes. Sure.”

He cracked open the top of his bottle and took a large gulp. I watched the gentle throb of his throat and had to shift on my seat to ease my hardness.

“It’s a good night,” I said. “Plenty of business. The takings will be high.”

Seve stared at me as if I wasn’t the only one who thought I was spouting nonsense. “Yes, I think so. We’re doing well. Where do you work, Max?”

How bizarre! It was arse about face, as they say. We’d been closer than two bugs in a rug, we’d fucked and argued and fucked again. Now we were talking as if it were a first date. We stared at each other for a moment, as if it had suddenly struck both of us at the same time. Then I grinned and he smiled back. The tension eased.

“I want to know about you,” he said. “Not just what makes you moan. Not just how hard you like to be touched.”

How could a room get so much hotter so quickly? “I work on the construction site around the back of Preston Park. They’re building new homes and business premises. I’m not trained as a builder, but I’m a fast learner, and I do as many shifts as they offer. I’m hoping they’ll take me on permanently at the end of this project.” Seve was still looking expectantly at me. “Okay, other stuff. I was born here in Brighton and have been in the care system since I was orphaned at age seven. I don’t talk much about it, but it was by no means the horror that some kids suffer. Nowadays I’m staying at Jack and Louis’s flat in Kemptown, in their attic room.” I glanced at Seve: he was concentrating on me very carefully. “I can drive but I’ve never been able to afford a car. I take size eleven shoes and have an awkwardly high instep. I like old black-and-white movies, both comedy and drama. I listen to rock music but I’m not a great fan of live gigs. I’m a crap cook, I can play very basic guitar, and I can assemble flatpack furniture like a professional. I hate mayonnaise and pineapple juice, and my favorite pizza topping is pepperoni. When I was very young, I fell out of a tree at the children’s home and scarred the back of my thigh—”

“I’ve seen it,” Seve interrupted. His eyes were even brighter.

I laughed. Despite the noise and the weird situation, I felt more relaxed with him than ever before. “Your turn.”

“Me?” He looked startled. “You know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”