AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My phone lit up with an incoming message, and I pounced on it gratefully, laughing as I read the text.
“What is it?” Ander cocked his head, raising a brow.
“Noah. He wants to know if you know the best way to get tickets to Crystal Palace’s FA Cup match so he can surprise Liam for his birthday—but he’s said, and I quote, ‘You and Ander are coming too. If I have to sit through eighty minutes of torture, then you can come with me, and Ander can enjoy the match with Liam. P.S. you can pay for your own tickets.’ Then he’s included a load of emojis.” I turned my phone to show him the screen.
Ander smirked. “Remind him that a football match is actually ninety minutes, not eighty, and that’s not even including added time.” He paused, then added, “You can tell him that I’ll sort all the tickets if he wants, and he can just pay me back for his and Liam’s.”
I tapped out a reply and received a very unenthusiastic response to my reminder about the duration of the match, followed by a much more enthusiastic response to the part about Ander sorting out the tickets. Noah and Liam both lived in the student house next to Ander and me—and they’d been officially together for a week, although they’d been seeing each other—in the world’s worst-kept secret—for a lot longer than that. Almost since the beginning of the semester, from what I gathered. Liam was a footballer, as was Ander, and while neither Noah nor I played, I quite liked watching it, whereas Noah wasn’t exactly a fan. Not unless his boyfriend was running around the pitch in his football shorts, anyway.
“I still can’t believe I lost my wingman,” Ander lamented at the mention of Liam.
Another thing I should mention about my best friend—he was a bit of a player. His words, not mine. He loved girls, and girls loved him. I mean, how could they not? He was so gorgeous, tall, and broad-shouldered, with a body that looked like it had been carved by the Greek gods themselves and a face that literally took my breath away. In comparison, I was…well, ordinary. Nothing to write home about. My body was toned, thanks to my running and gym workouts, but I was definitely on the lanky side. My hair was boring—light brown and kind of wavy, and my eyes were…the best way I could describe them was a pale, watery blue. In short, I was the kind of person that would always be in Ander’s shadow, although he always took care to include me as much as possible.
“You don’t need a wingman. You don’t even have to do anything to get the girls to come to you,” I said, keeping my tone light before fishing an ice cube out of my glass and crunching on it viciously, grinding it between my molars.
“That is so annoying, you know.” Ander eyed me, amused, and I rolled my eyes.
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You’ve never told me that before.”
“Fuck off, E.” He nudged my arm playfully. “I guess I should be used to it by now since you’ve had the habit since we were six.”
“Five,” I countered.
“Nope. Six. It was right after your birthday, when my mum took us to that restaurant, remember? We could help ourselves to that drinks machine, and you filled up your cup with ice, then sat there for ages crunching all the cubes. Sooooo annoying.” His grin widened.
It was easy to fall into banter with him. It was safe ground, where we were just two friends who’d grown up together. “I’m glad you have such fond memories of our childhood.”
“I do. Remember that time you ripped your shorts on those railings, and you flashed—”
I clamped one hand over his mouth, the other going to his throat. “Donotfinish that sentence unless you want me to choke you until you can’t talk anymore.”
“Kinky,” he mumbled from underneath my palm, still grinning like a lunatic. I could feel his pulse under my other hand, and I was struck by a sudden desire to run my thumb over it, followed by my mouth. My dick stirred, liking the idea way too much.
I yanked my hands away, sliding across the booth and out of the side, and waved vaguely in the direction of the door that led to the toilets. “I’ll be back.”
Being in love with my best friend was the fuckingworstsometimes.
2
While I waited for Elliot to return, I glanced around Cloud’s interior. We’d skipped our Friday lectures and driven straight to Bournemouth this morning, but now it was getting later in the day, and the bar was beginning to fill. Students mixed with the after-work crowd, interspersed with a few tourists here and there. I normally came here with Elliot when we came back for a visit—it was a bit of a magnet for Bournemouth’s gay community, and if anyone needed help getting laid, it was Elliot. He was a good-looking guy, with his wavy light brown hair, clear blue eyes, angular jaw, and a lean, fit body, so he shouldn’t have had trouble finding someone. But he hardly ever seemed to pick up guys, and those he did never lasted. It concerned me because he wasn’t like me. He needed a proper relationship, someone to take care of him that he could care for in return. That was what my best friend deserved, and I hoped he’d find it one day soon.
My gaze was caught by Elliot making his way back towards me. He was right next to the wall when he was stopped in his tracks by a guy placing his hand on his arm. I frowned, staring at them. I was sure I recognised that guy…
The guy leaned into him, saying something, and I watched as Elliot’s expression changed from polite interest to horror, and then his eyes flared with panic as he sought me out.
I was already out of my seat, pushing through the crowds to him.
“What’s going on here?” I folded my arms across my chest, giving the guy my best intimidating look. He was older than me, but I was taller and bigger, and I wasn’t above using it to my advantage. Next to me, Elliot had gone silent, as stiff as a board.
“Oh, it’s you, Ander.” The guy flicked his beady gaze to me before returning it to Elliot, and the expression on his face made my skin crawl. I hadn’t been able to see his face before, but now I took in the way he blatantly leered at Elliot, his hand going to adjust the bulge forming in his trousers.
Fucking gross.
“Sorry, do I know you?” My tone was icy as I stepped forwards, angling my body so that I brushed up against Elliot’s shoulder.
“Gary. Marc’s brother. Haven’t seen you two around here for a while, but now I have, well…look at little Elliot. All grown up and pretty. I thought he might be interested in having a bit of fun with me tonight.” His fat, slimy tongue came out to lick his lips, leaving a string of drool, and I nearly gagged. I remembered him now—the older brother of one of our school friends, he’d always come across as a creep. You know how some people just make your skin crawl when you look at them? He was one of those.
“I’m not interested,” Elliot tried.
