Heart (14 page)

Damon paid him no heed as he rose from his seat and made his way to the toilets. He’d learned the words “ladies” and “gents” the day before in his literacy lesson, but these ones had the pictures on… the stick figures with squares and triangles to denote the sex.

He relieved himself, sniggering a little at the notion that the triangle-shaped female figure looked like she was wearing the cape of a superhero, and stopped at the bar on his way back to buy beer for Damon and Seb. He couldn’t think of anything to get himself, so he didn’t bother, and Damon didn’t seem to notice when he set two sloshy pints of lager down on the table.

Seb was still MIA. Dex glanced around, feeling a tremor of nerves break through his drunken haze. He wasn’t supposed to go in pubs, or bars or nightclubs. His place was outside, waiting on Braden, or peddling whatever white powder or pill he’d stuffed into his pockets. He’d followed Seb inside because he’d follow Seb to the end of the earth, but now he was gone and it didn’t feel right.
He
didn’t feel right.

“Hope he really has ditched that twat.”

“Hmm?” Dex rescued his much-abused thumbnail from his teeth. “Seb’s boyfriend?”

“
Ex
,” Damon replied sardonically. “At least, I hope so. Have you ever met Andy? The bloke’s a weirdo. I swear down, he only eats chips and kebabs. Can you imagine Seb stuck with a bloke like that? Talk about repressed.”

Dex could only nod. Most of Damon’s words went over his head, but he was right about one thing. Seb couldn’t be with someone who didn’t share, or at least appreciate, his passion for his job. Seb bitched and moaned about work all the time, but it didn’t stop him from taking it home with him, working long into the night, and starting all over again at the crack of dawn.

“He made pizza today.”

Damon grinned over his pint. “Yeah, he’s pretty good at that. I do a better barbecue, though. Wait until summer, and we’ll get some dustbin lids out on that fancy balcony of his. Get lagered up and get some birds round.”

Birds? Oh yeah. Damon likes girls.

Seb dropped silently into his seat. He looked annoyed but not upset, and Dex was glad he hadn’t turned around to see what his mysterious boyfriend—
ex
-boyfriend—looked like.

Damon slid one of the pints Seb’s way. “All sorted?”

Seb scowled before he seemed to chance a glance at Dex. “Yeah. Daft wanker. We were only together a few months. The way he’s harping on, you’d think we were getting a fecking divorce.”

Damon snorted. “Never trust a man who doesn’t like onions.”

“Onions?” Dex was lost.

“Yeah. Onions are, like, the backbone of every dish. If you don’t like ’em, you don’t like nothin’.”

Dex frowned, mystified, and Seb’s sudden bark of laughter broke the awkward air that had settled over the table.

“Jesus, Damon. There’s more to life than bloody onions. Come on. Fuck this shit. Let’s drink up and go to the Dolphin.”

Seb and Damon finished their drinks and hustled Dex down the street to another pub. The pub was noisier than the last one, crowded and rowdy. Dex topped up his drunken stupor with a few more bottles of blue WKD, but eventually, the shouting and jostling bodies became too much for him. When his heart began beating so fast he thought he’d be sick, he saw an opportunity and made his escape.

He was halfway down the road when Seb caught up with him.

“Hey, slow down. Where are you going?”

“Home?” Dex offered, though in his current state, he wasn’t entirely sure, and the fact that he hadn’t registered Seb coming up behind him scared the shit out of him. Fuck. He could’ve been anyone. He could’ve been Braden.

“Do you know the way?”

Dex jerked his head to the left, leaving his equilibrium spinning, and for once, not from the evil concoction of Seb’s dark hair and brooding blue eyes, perfectly silhouetted by the murky London sky. “That way.”

“Dex, we’re in Tottenham. Stoke Newington’s this way.” Seb turned Dex a full 180. “Unless you want to walk all the way to Shoreditch.”

Oh. He should’ve been embarrassed, or at least annoyed, but he was too drunk to care. “Guess I’ll go this way, then.”

Seb snorted and fell into step beside him. “You’re a funny pisshead.”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Liar. You’re as lashed as me.”

Dex tripped over his own feet. “So?”

“So nothing. Are you hungry?”

“No.” And for once, it was true. His stomach was so full of booze and bubbles he couldn’t envision it having room for anything else ever again.

“Me neither. Let’s go home.”

Seb spoke with a slur and slung his arm around Dex’s shoulders. The gesture was light and affectionate, and steadied Dex, helping find his feet again. By the time they reached Dalston, he felt mildly more sober and too exhausted to go on. He spotted the bench where he and Seb usually ate their midnight supper and drifted over to it. He sank down and put his head in his hands. His legs felt weird. He didn’t want to walk anymore.

Seb dropped down beside him. His arm had slipped from Dex’s shoulders when he’d pulled away to sit on the bench, but the closeness of him now was enough.

Or was it?

Dex raised his head and leaned back on the bench, and it seemed only natural to lean into Seb, to absorb his warmth as a buffer against the icy December air.

“Tired?”

Dex’s only response was a grunt. He was so weary he could fall asleep right there. Perhaps he would, if Seb was willing to be his pillow. Perhaps he’d sleep here anyway, even if Seb left and went home. Went home to his fancy flat and his….

Wait a minute.
Dex jerked upright. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Seb sighed. “Not you too.
Ex
-boyfriend. I’m not with him anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s annoying, and I don’t want to be. What do you care?”

Dex shrugged and considered his answer. He didn’t know much about boyfriends and girlfriends. Where he came from, you were either a child or married. Or nothing, like him. “When did you break up with him?”

“Sunday morning.”

“Why?”

Seb rolled his eyes before his expression faded to something a little more somber. “You really want to know?”

“Asked you, didn’t I?”

Seb shifted so he was facing Dex. “I met Andy this summer, and we were just shagging, really. Nothing to write home about, but he was fucking clingy. Coming to London seemed a good way to get rid of him. I felt bad about it for a while… until I saw you. Then I saw you asleep on my couch and I just knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Knew that even if you don’t want me right now, I can’t be with anyone else.”

Dex didn’t know what to say. He stared at Seb, bit his lip, and felt the rowdy Dalston streets fade to nothing. “I can’t be a boyfriend. I can’t do that.”

“I’m not asking you to, Dex. You asked me a question, and I answered it.”

Dex rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt dazed and confused, and a little bit sick. Perhaps a sign he should call it a night and go home, before he talked himself into trouble. He rose unsteadily to his feet.

Seb stood too and grabbed his hand. “Hey. It’s late, and cold. Why don’t you kip on my couch? Save walking home.”

It wasn’t all that far to the hostel—ten minutes at most—but Seb was right. It was late and Dex was tired. The clean-smelling upholstery of Seb’s couch was too tempting to pass up. “Okay.”

They walked to Seb’s flat in silence until Seb let them in and bypassed the lift. “So you can find the stairs,” he explained. “In case it’s ever broken.”

It seemed a silly reason to trek up four flights of steps, but Dex held his tongue. It was Seb’s flat. If Seb wanted to climb the stairs, who was he to argue? Still, he was relieved when Seb finally unlocked his heavy front door. The warmth of his home hit Dex like a sucker punch, and he all but fell inside.

Dex shrugged out of his coat and toed off his shoes. Seb hung their coats in a small cupboard by the door and gestured down the hall. “Go use the bathroom. I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

“What? Oh, no. It’s fine. I can sleep in my clothes.”

“I know you can. You just don’t have to. Go take a hot shower. I’ll leave some clothes outside.”

Dex obediently made his way to the bathroom. He’d been in there the day before to use the toilet, but he hadn’t considered the huge showerhead hanging over the bath. He stared at it now, taking in the complex dial. The shower at work was fairly simple—blue for cold, red for hot. It was just a matter of jiggling it until he found a temperature he could stand. This one seemed far more intricate, even without the added complication of written instructions.

He pulled his T-shirt and hoodie over his head, then stepped out of his jeans. Then, clad only in his underwear, he took a chance and turned the dial clockwise into the red section. Nothing happened. He tried again, twisting it this way and that, until he remembered the shower in Braden’s caravan needed the tap turned on before it would work.

It did the trick. He turned the hot tap halfway and water burst out of the showerhead, blasting him like a water cannon. Startled, he jumped back, feeling his heart quicken. He stood stock-still a moment before he worked up the courage to hold his hand under the spray. The water was hot and hard and stung his skin, but it felt
good
. Encouraged, Dex shed his remaining clothes and climbed into the bath.

There was something exhilarating about being naked and alone in a place that was all Seb, about rubbing soap and shampoo into his body that smelled of him. Stolen and exciting, like Seb was seeping into his skin, and no one knew it but him. Dex washed carefully, taking his time and breathing it all in before the water became too hot to bear.

He switched the shower off on his second attempt and stepped out of the bath. True to his word, Seb had left some clothes outside the bathroom door. Dex retrieved them and pulled them on before he set about cleaning up the bathroom.

A little while later, he ventured down the hall in search of Seb, clutching his own clothes close to his chest. He found Seb on the sofa, sitting in the dark with the TV on so low Dex could barely hear it. A blanket and a pillow lay stacked at the other end of the couch.

Seb greeted him with an easy grin. “Better?”

Dex nodded. He did feel better. Still drunk, but pleasantly so, rather than dizzyingly out of his head. “What are you watching?”

Seb patted the couch beside him. “
The Naked Chef
, back when he was geeky and hot, rather than the preachy lard arse he is now.”

“More cooking?”

Seb hummed lazily. “Yeah. Never stops. Here.” He handed Dex the pillow. “Get comfy.”

Dex considered his options. Seb was at the very end of the sofa, beer can in hand, his legs stretched out. His posture was relaxed and at ease, but Dex wanted more. He wanted to climb into Seb’s lap and kiss his stubbled cheek, tug on his lips with his teeth and bury his hands in his short, dark hair.

He wanted to lose himself in Seb’s gaze and never be found.

Seb turned his lips up in a wry smile. “What do you want, Dex?”

Dex tugged on his knee. “Lie down.”

Seb shifted onto his back and straightened his legs. “Like this?”

Dex crawled over Seb and wedged the pillow under his head. He thought on it some more then lay down and wriggled until he was under Seb’s arm with his head on his chest. After a moment’s deliberation, he hooked his leg over Seb’s for good measure. “Like this.”

Seb laughed and set his beer can on the floor. He wrapped his arm around Dex. “Fair enough.”

Seb shut off the TV and darkness enveloped them. Dex pressed his face into Seb’s chest and inhaled the scent he’d caught a whisper of in the bathroom. Perhaps he’d regret this in the morning, but for now, he didn’t care.

Seb draped a blanket over him and carded his fingers through Dex’s hair. “Dex?”

Dex opened his eyes and looked up. “Yeah?”

“Good night.”

Dex smiled, and in answer stretched up and pressed his lips to Seb’s in a soft, hesitant kiss. “Good night, Seb.”

Seventeen

D
EX
WOKE
with a start, his face mashed into Seb’s chest and the rest of Seb’s body wrapped protectively round him like a cocoon. His head hurt and his stomach felt like he’d been kicked by a horse, but the warmth of Seb’s arms felt amazing.

And so did the pulsing, throbbing heat pressed against his thigh.

For a moment, Dex didn’t dare move, breathe, or even blink, and then a wave of exhausted nausea swept over him and he found himself burrowing closer to Seb as though he could climb inside him and escape the fast-growing hangover brewing deep in his bones.

He woke again sometime later to Seb rubbing his back. “All right?”

Dex blinked, both relieved and disappointed to find the dick pressed into his leg had retreated back where it came from. “What time is it?”

“Eight. You’ve got your lesson with Mel at nine, haven’t you?”

Dex sat up and scrubbed his hands down his face. It was Tuesday, the day he had a two-hour reading lesson before his workday even started. Dammit. Why hadn’t Seb reminded him of that
before
he’d drunk his body weight in lurid fizzy booze? “I need to go home.”