Heart (16 page)

“Yeah.”

Seb’s answering kiss was sweetly terrifying. He took Dex’s face in his large hands and kissed him again and again until Dex opened his mouth and kissed him back with everything he had, grounded only by the solid warmth of Seb’s chest beneath his clutching fingers.

The kiss went on and on until Seb pulled away, lifted Dex like he was nothing, and laid him down on the sofa. Then he stopped. Stopped dead, like he’d come to his senses. “Shit. I’m sorry. You make me crazy, you know that?”

Dex wriggled and arched his back, unwittingly seeking friction for his dick. “I don’t mind.”

“You said you didn’t want this.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Seb drew back and let out a shaky breath. “I don’t under—”

Dex kissed him, kissed him fiercely, hard and demanding. “I never said that.” Another kiss. “I said I couldn’t be your boyfriend. I don’t know how.”

Seb cupped Dex’s chin, calming the fire of the kiss to a gentle roar. “Do you want to learn?”

“Maybe.” Dex slid his hands under Seb’s T-shirt, resisting his natural instinct to break Seb’s intense stare and cast his gaze down. “I want to kiss you some more.”

Seb smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, laughing at his answering frown. “We can do that, but I don’t expect anything from you. I want to be with you, but only if it’s what you want, and you can take as long as you like to figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dex knew it was true. He didn’t know much about much, but every fiber of his being told him his faith in Seb was well placed. Trouble was, he didn’t know how to compute the rising desperation he had to be as close to him as possible into a reality he understood. “I should go.”

“You’re probably right.” Seb rolled from the couch and hauled Dex to his feet. “See you in the morning?”

Dex chewed on his tingling lip. “See you in the morning.”

He left the flat. A cold breeze buffeted him as he made his way to the lift. Seb called his name as the button turned red.

“Hey, Dex?” Dex turned, and Seb’s smile was blinding. “Happy birthday.”

Eighteen

T
HE
OVEN
timer beeped. Dex switched it off and squinted at the torn notebook page Seb had left out for him.

Check tart is set. Remove from oven. Switch oven off.

Dex opened the oven door and eyed the treacle tart, shaking the tray the way Seb had shown him. The center of the sticky breadcrumb mix wobbled slightly, but knowing it would continue to cook as it cooled, he took a chance and removed it from the oven.

The tart was last on his mental list of prep, and now that it was out and on the cooling racks, he found himself with nothing to do. Restless, he drummed his fingers on the stainless-steel countertop, missing Seb and his annoying, cheerful banter. He’d taken the day off to meet his siblings for lunch, leaving Dex to handle a busy December-afternoon service on his own. Rick had programmed the ticket machine to print single-word orders—tart, cake, pie, mousse—but Dex was still anxious, so anxious he couldn’t keep still.

What would he do if a ticket came through he couldn’t decipher? Or a waitress came through and left him a note? Mistakes were expensive, and he didn’t want to spend his precious cash paying for fuckups.

He cleaned the already spotless dessert section from top to bottom. Seb remained on his mind as he got down on his hands and knees and cleaned beneath the units. It had been a week since they’d wound up kissing on his couch, and since then, it felt like they’d done nothing but kiss at any opportunity they got. After work. During work, when they took a break between services on quiet days. Sometimes even before work, when Dex fell asleep on Seb’s sofa the night before.

The kisses were magical… and petrifying. Seb never pushed Dex to go further, but God, Dex wished he would. Then sometimes, he didn’t. Couldn’t bear to even think of it. Seb had fucked his brains out back in Padstow, but the prospect of anything more than those sweetly volatile kisses scared the shit out of him.

Yeah, because maybe then Seb will remember you’re nothing but a dirty little whore.

Dex felt sick. He didn’t think of Braden as much anymore, and in some ways, that made it worse, and it caught him off guard when he did. Fuck. He wished Seb would come back, but knowing that wouldn’t happen anytime before dinner, he threw himself into the needless cleaning with even more verve than before.

Damon appeared as Dex was wiping down the counters just one more time. He helped himself to one of Seb’s specialty knives. “All right, mate? Surviving without Seb? You look stressed.”

“I’m okay.” Dex took a moment to hide his scowl. Stressed. Yeah, that was the word of the day, and the tiny slip of paper burning a hole in his pocket wasn’t helping. He’d been mystified when Bernie had appeared waving a biscuit tin filled with folded slips of paper, and even her explanation of buying a present for whichever colleague he picked out didn’t make much sense to him.

“It’s just a Secret Santa, Dex. Don’t look so serious.”

Right. If only that were true. Naturally, he’d picked out Seb’s name, and now he had to think of a present fit for Seb
and
venture into a shop to buy it. A bonehead task for a gorjer, but not for him.

“Earth to Dex?”

Dex blinked and Damon passed him a ticket. The rest of the kitchen was already in full flight, but by nature, the dessert counter didn’t get going until well after twelve. He studied the ticket. One chocolate mousse and three treacle tarts. He let out a measured breath. Easy enough. He could do that.

The next order wasn’t so simple. A waitress hurried in and scribbled a note at the bottom of the ticket. Dex called her back. “What does that say, miss?”

“Pouring cream, instead of whipped. We have little jugs of it by the coffee station, remember?”

He didn’t, because he rarely thought to get himself a hot drink, and the derision in the girl’s eyes stung. She thought he was stupid. But what could he do? It wasn’t like she was wrong.

The rest of service passed without incident, but it was exhausting, and when Seb finally appeared at five o’clock and sent Dex home for a rare night off, for once, Dex found himself more than willing to go. Until he remembered his Christmas shopping task, at least.

He took a shower, got changed, and set off for Kingsland High Street with grim determination. Most of the shops were Turkish barbers or restaurants, but he’d seen something a few days ago that had caught his eye, and, more importantly, had the price displayed next to it in big pink writing.

It began to rain as he walked along the bustling pavement. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t look up until he came to the tiny accessory shop stuck in his mind. Then his courage failed him. He couldn’t read the poster stuck to the door—he didn’t even recognize the letters—but to him, a sign on the door meant just one thing: he wasn’t allowed in.

Dex stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, ignoring the jostling elbows of the people who passed him. Frustrations clawed at his belly. He could see what he wanted to buy hanging in the window—a bandana, black with a pink skull-and-crossbones pattern. Seb always wore bandanas in the kitchen, even at home. Never a hat like Rick, a skull cap like Dex, or a baseball cap like the cheerful Pakistani pot washer whose name Dex could never remember. He wore a black chef jacket too, from time to time, and the pink tied in perfectly with the pink accessories that littered the kitchen of his Dalston flat.

Dammit. Dex
wanted
that bandana.

He dug his nails into his palms and looked down at his trainers. Bernie had washed them, way back when he’d first started at the restaurant. They’d come out whiter than they’d ever been, and without the mud of a caravan site to tramp through every day, they’d stayed that way. His clothes were clean, and so was he.

No one will know.

Was that really true? It was time to find out.

Dex steeled himself and walked into the shop. No one noticed, not even the shopkeeper. Dex chewed on his lip, confused. That wasn’t how it went. He’d followed his ma into a shop in Kilkenny once, and a man had set his dogs on them.

Seeing no dogs, he sidled up to the bandana display and unhooked the one he wanted. The display was close to the till, and it was almost too easy to pass it to the shopkeeper with a handful of coins. The transaction was swift and silent. The shopkeeper held out the paper bag with a curt nod. Dex took it and fled the shop.

He ran all the way home to the hostel until he was safe in his room. Inside, he locked his door and stood against it a moment, breathless, his heart slowing to a normal rhythm. He’d done it… bought his first ever Christmas present. Question was, what the hell did he do with it now?

D
EX
WOKE
later that night to a knock on his locked hostel room door. Yawning, he rolled from the mattress and padded across the room, assuming it was one of a regular parade of nighttime disturbances. It was common practice for hostel residents to bang on each other’s doors at all hours, looking for cigarettes, rizlas, and sometimes money. Dex always answered, scared they’d kick the door right down, and tonight was no different, though the knocking was less exuberant than he was used to.

Seb greeted him with a lopsided smile. “Hey.”

Dex rubbed his eyes, half-convinced he was seeing things. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for my partner in crime. Service wasn’t the same without you.”

“Are you drunk?”

Seb shrugged and leaned on the doorframe. “A bit. No one bought me dinner from the kebab shop to line my belly. Are you going to invite me in?”

Dex stood back and let Seb push himself lackadaisically off the doorframe and amble into his room. He let the door swing shut and crossed his arms over his chest, defiant. His room was basic and sparse, but neat and clean. Cleaner, probably, than Seb’s swanky flat.

Seb turned in a slow circle, taking in the bare mattress, battered wooden chair, and utilitarian metal shelves that served as Dex’s wardrobe. “Like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious. It’s not what I pictured in my head.”

Dex wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Seb had imagined. Lacking any better ideas, he shuffled back to his rudimentary bed and sat down. Seb hovered above him, looking down at him with an expression Dex couldn’t quite decipher. “You can sit down if you want.”

Seb dropped down beside him, leaving a small space between them. Dex closed the gap, drawn by the warmth of Seb’s strong body.

“Where’s your duvet?”

“Hmm?”

“Your duvet.” Seb slipped his arm round Dex’s shoulders. “And your pillow?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What? Dex, it’s December. What keeps you warm at night?”

“My coat.”

Seb stared at him, his merry gaze suddenly sober and grave. He took a breath, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by a loud bang that startled them both.

Dex recovered first and rose to open the door. Seb tried to tug him back down. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Dex reclaimed his hand and stomped to the door. The acne-scarred face of his immediate neighbor greeted him, as did the pungent smell of piss and booze.

“Dexy, my boy. Have ya got any skag, mate? I just need a little bit, man. Just a taste to get some shut-eye. I’ll pay ya back, lad.”

“Sorry, Tomo. I haven’t got any. Do you want some crisps instead?”

After bartering for a while, Tomo accepted his obligatory bag of Skips and moved on to bang on the next door, no doubt hoping to exchange the loot for something more appealing to him. Dex shut the door. He turned around and found Seb right behind him.

“Why did you answer the door?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s dangerous,” Seb snapped. “This whole place is a fucking pit of drugs and scum. What if that junkie geezer comes back with some of his mates?”

“He hasn’t got any mates.” Dex stepped around Seb, feeling an invisible barrier spring up between them—the barrier that reminded him of his true place in the world. He’d expected it eventually, but it had slipped his mind somehow over the past few weeks, and the defensive anger in his veins surprised him. “What’s it to you?”

“This place is shit.”

“Shit for you, maybe,” Dex retorted. “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived. Sorry it’s not good enough for you.”

Seb’s eyes widened. “Good enough for me? Are you taking the piss?” He crossed the room with one long stride and caught Dex’s chin in his hand. “Dex, this place isn’t good enough for
you
.”

“Yes, it is.” Dex shrugged out of Seb’s grasp and stumbled backward. He sank down on the edge of the mattress. He didn’t have it in him to fight with Seb, but he wanted to scream. The hostel
was
good enough for him… too good, because without it, where would he be? Sucking cock at the bus stop down the road.

Seb knelt in front of him. “Dex.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Dex, I don’t care where you came from, or how shitty you perceive yourself to be. I can’t live with myself while you’re laying your head here every night. Come home with me. Sleep on my couch, in my bed, whatever. Just don’t make me leave you here. Please.”