AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The one where they sat on the balcony and hated on each other.”
“Will never happen. You and Finn will live happily ever after, and…and…”
“You will figure out how to be you. Benjamin Desjardins, who loves someone else. Someone who is not me.”
We sat in silence for a while. He reached out, held my hand in his. I squeezed it. Hard. I wanted to put it up to my lips, kiss his stupid fingers. Parts of him that would always be mine.
“You’re being weird,” I said, letting go of him.
“You’ve always been weird,” he retaliated. “Hugo will need to talk. You just have to be patient with him. Let him figure all this out. And Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got this.”
“Whatever.”
“You know how to make another person feel like they are the centre of your world. There is no better way of saying it.”
“Shut up,” I said. “I need to go, and this wine is going to my head.”
“Good,” he grumped, draining his glass. “Now give me a hug and get the hell out of here.”
I did. Both of those things.
***
We’d developed quite the routine over the past week, Hugo and me. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was a good house guest. My kitchen was always spotless, and his things were neatly placed on the floor next to the sofa, which made me feel guilty about not even having a shelf for him to put his clothes on, a space in the wardrobe to call his own.
Small bags of fruit made it onto my kitchen table, and his boxes of cereal bars sat neatly on my worktop next to the tea. I liked that. It made me smile every time I flicked the kettle on.
I made a brew, got myself a sandwich and tried to shake myself out of the weirdness that Mark’s words had left me with. Then I made a small board of treats for Hugo when he got home. I would have waited up, but I was inwork at the arse-crack of dawn again, and my head was already spinning. The motion of trying to roll small slices of air-dried ham into something that looked appetising on a plate was taking everything out of me. I popped an apple on the plate along with a handful of crackers and left the jar of pickles out. He’d liked them the other night.
I’d liked that he’d liked them. I had to laugh at myself, but then, it made me happy when he discovered things. The way food could make your body react. Tingling sensations on your tongue. Warmth running down your insides. When I’d said things like air-dried ham gave me food-boners, he’d just laughed at me like it was totally normal.
I wasn’t normal. Sex scared the living daylights out of me. I hadn’t actually done the deed for years and had no idea what I would do if I had to.
I knew stuff. Of course I did. Mark had always been a very descriptive teacher in the art of…human sex. So yes. I knew stuff…in theory. In reality?
I’d gone down on a girl once, and yeah. Air-dried ham boners still beat that, which I knew was weird. And stupid AF.
I got myself in the shower and let the water soothe my anxious thoughts before I curled up under my blanket and the world drifted away. I slept and only got rattled out of my slumber by the kitchen light going on and off. It was just gone three in the morning, and Hugo was obviously awake. He needed to sleep. I needed to sleep.
I should have left him to it. Rolled over and let him settle down. He wasn’t a child.
But I was who I was, and my feet had other ideas, luring me out into the living room where he sat on the sofa, the Accident Light bathing him in a soft glow.
He’d been crying again, and I didn’t like it. I also wasn’t a man of words, but I could offer comfort, so I sat beside him and tugged at his blanket so it covered my bare legs. I’d slept in my hoodie. It was midwinter and I was cold—not as cold as Hugo, though, who was wearing two knitted jumpers and joggers under that blanket.
“Sorry it’s not warmer in here,” I said. “It’s an old building, and the draughts are horrendous. That’s partly why I sleep in the pantry where there are no windows. It’s cool in the summer and all right in the winter. Pop a hoodie on and a couple of blankets, and I sleep like the dead.”
“’Tis okay.” He snivelled, trying to hide his tears.
“Want to talk about it?” I offered, wondering if it was too early for a cup of tea.
“I’m…” He coughed, wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it keeps you up.”
