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He looks justifiably stunned. “What did I do to your cock?”?
“Nothing, that’s why it’s sad.” The duh is implied.
His eyes travel down my body in a vain attempt to get a glimpse of my crotch. I’m blocked by the island bench standing between us, though, which is a relief because I’m pretty sure I’d cream my joggers if that intense gaze of his zeroed in on that area.
He lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t you think this is getting a bit old?”
I blink at him. “What is?”
He rolls his eyes. “You trying to mess with me. I get why you were doing it when we first met and I was a prick, but we’re mates now, right? You don’t need to keep trying to make me uncomfortable.”
Bloody hell. What do I have to do to convince him I’m interested? Slap him across the face with my hard dick? Actually, that sounds like it’d be a lot of fun. Save that in the wank bank for later.
Then his words sink in and I snap back to reality. “I make you uncomfortable?”
He lets out a soft breath of laughter. “No. That’s the point. You can stop trying to rile me up with all your flirting. It’s not going to work.”
I’m still a little confused. I’m not entirely sure what he thinks I’m attempting to do. I’ve never been anything but honest with him. But I get the message loud and clear: no more flirting. No more innuendo. No more complimenting his arse, or drooling over his abs. To be honest, now that I think about it, I'm surprised he's put up with it for so long. After my spiel about sexual harassment on our first day of training, I turned around and did the exact same thing to Tom. Luckily he’s been a good sport about it, even if he doesn’t return my interest.
I nod and slap on a bright smile. Mates. Platonic, non-flirty mates. Yeah, I can manage that. I hope. “Alright then, I’ll stop with the flirting. But if you’re ever having a bad arse day or something just come see me and I’ll sort you right out.”
“Glad to see you’re sticking to your resolve,” he says dryly.
“Do you need any help dishing up?” I ask, deciding we’re in dire need of a redirect.
“Yeah, you can do that while I’m finishing off the fried bread,” he says, drawing the plate of expertly-buttered bread towards him.
Fortunately, the bitter sting of rejection has done wonders for the situation in my pants, so I no longer need the island as a shield. I move around to the other side and busy myself putting yummy breakfast foods on plates: bacon, sausages, fried eggs, mushrooms, beans. And then Tom finishes it off with fried bread. Literally the best meal ever.
We take the plates through and Tom goes back for our cups of tea.?Only heathens eat a full English without a cuppa to wash it down.
“This looks delicious, mate,” I say to Tom.
“Don’t look at it, eat it,” he says in a stern tone.
I can’t help feeling as though I’ve just been on the receiving end of his ‘dad voice.’ Once again, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I choose to call him out. “Yes, Dad,” I say with a smirk, before tucking in. Just as delicious as it looks.
“Fucking hell,”Tom growls. “Didn’t wejusttalk about this?”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “And where exactly was the innuendo in that? It’s not like I called youDaddy,”I point out, waggling my eyebrows at him.
Tom just grunts something indecipherable and stabs at his food.
“If you don’t want me calling you ‘Dad’ don’t treat me like a kid,” I say simply, offering a casual shrug, before getting stuck into my baked beans.
“Oh my god, Dad!” Keegan cries, eyes wide with excitement. “You can be Archie’s dad! Then Archie could be my brother!”
I almost choke on a mouthful of beans, while Tom’s fork pauses midway to his mouth as he just stares at his son.
“Archie already has a dad, Keegan,” Tom finally says. “Remember you met him at the Everton game?”
“Besides, Tom’s way too young to be my dad,” I say with a chuckle.
Keegan’s face screws up. “No he’s not. He’s, like,reallyold.” He leans closer to me so he can talk in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’sthirty-seven.”
“Wow. Positively ancient,” I say dryly.
Keegan nods in agreement, clearly not clocking the insincerity of my words. “Yeah.”
