Page 23 of Asking For a Friend

As we get closer to my house, my nerves ratchet up a level, and I think he senses it. He stays quiet but rubs his thumb over mine in soothing circles. “This is me.” I stop at the gate that leads to a small front garden, which I turned into a patio. I can’t grow a flower if my life depended on it. Even the sunflowers I planted let their heads droop as if saying I was a lost cause.

“I like it.” He smiles as I open the gate and walk to the door.

When we get inside and the door is shut, my self-consciousness comes back with a vengeance. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

A heavy thunk comes from upstairs, followed by a loud yowl. Hesketh looks at me in alarm. “Is there someone else here?”

“Only Flanaghan.”

My humongous cat comes stomping down the stairs. “That’s Flanaghan? He’s huge, much bigger than I expected.”

When my cat sees Hesketh, he stops his descent halfway down. I call to him, and after a silent stare at Hesketh, he trots to me and weaves around my legs until I pick him up. “You have competition for my affection.” I grin as Flanaghan rubs his head under my chin.

“I can see. He’s a beauty.”

I put the cat down and lead Hesketh into the living room. I chew on my thumbnail as he looks around, taking his time. What is he thinking? “I know it’s not as nice as yours. I don’t have any talent when it comes to decorating. And I’m still careful with my money.”

After leaving home and subsequent boyfriends’ places and sharing houses with my friends, I had to be frugal. Rent and food were more important than a throw blanket and matching bedroom furniture. So even when I got the inheritance from my uncle, and the books began to pay their way, I was happier to keep it in the savings account, my rainy-day money.

“It’s great, Lando, very you. My house only looks the way it does because of Pinterest. Anyone can copy a photograph, but you have made this your own.”

I try to look at it through his eyes. Okay, maybe the shelves full of paperbacks, most from car-boot sales or second-hand shops, have a certain appeal. He approaches the collage of photographs of the past ten years, taken by friends, or selfies of a wilder past. He chuckles and brushes a finger over one of them. Which one is he looking at? I walk over to him.

“You look so young, so happy, and, I’m guessing, a bit drunk. I’m a tad jealous of the man who has his arm around you.”

I elbow him in the ribs but join him in laughing. “That’s Thom. He’s one of my best friends, and yep, alcohol flowed freely that night. I think it was New Year’s Eve. And before you ask, I haven’t slept with any of the men in these pictures.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that. Your past is your business. We all have one. I have plenty of photographs from my college days and nights out with Ellis.”

“I’m glad he’s straight, or I’d be jealous of him.” I lift on my toes and plant a kiss on his mouth. I intended to give him a quick kiss, but when he wraps his arms around me and touches my lips with his tongue, I open for him.

Our tongues slide together, stroking lazily, reacquainting after a day apart. A hum escapes me as he tightens his grip on my arse and his cock hardens.

“Fuck!” Hesketh ends the kiss. His eyes are glazed over, and his lips turn dark red as the blood rushes through them. He never looked more edible or beddable.

“Maybe later. Food first.” If I let him drag me to my bed or the sofa, anywhere really, I know I won’t get any food tonight.

His stomach growls in agreement, and he chuckles. “Sadly, you’re right. What are we cooking?”

Once we’re in the kitchen, I pull ingredients out of the cupboard and the fridge. “Do you like curry? I’m not a brilliant cook, but I have a few favourites I’m good at. I’m going to make a spinach and tomato curry. It’s not supposed to have chicken in it, but I can add it if you like. Is that okay?”

“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”

“Pour some drinks and keep me company. That’s all you need to do.”

For the next thirty minutes, we chat, swapping stories of our nights out. Hesketh is funny and attentive, dropping kisses on my neck or shoulder. His hand lingers on the small of my back or waist as I cook.

As much as I warn myself to keep it all simple, to take it slow, I’m falling for him.

“What happened to you on Saturday?” Ellis gives me a pointed look. “You don’t usually let us down.”

Couldn’t he have waited already? Ellis hasn’t even taken his coat off, and the inquisition has started. I had a wonderful weekend with Lando. We spent most of Saturday in bed. Then a meal out in the evening before Sunday turned into another bed day. Lando told me so much about his friends and the last few years. Why he started to write books and how he plans and plots his stories. We also discussed the upcoming signing weekend I’m going to with him. The only thing he doesn’t talk about is his parents and his childhood, his life before he found his friends.

“I told you I may not make it, that I was spending the day with Lando. Don’t try to make me feel guilty for a plan I hadn’t agreed to.” I take a sip of the coffee I bought at The Coffee Bean. It was too early to see Lando. He said he had a few things to do at home before he went in. My staying all weekend must have put him behind on the chores he would normally do. It did for me, and I devoted the evening to doing my laundry and tidying up.

“Don’t you want him to meet us?” He looks hurt.

I don’t want to tell him that Lando is hesitant. He brushed aside my questions about why and took my mind off the subject by sucking my dick. That’s so much better than sitting in a crowded bar.

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