Page 15 of Crying in the Rain

“I drank your beer. After you left.”

“Did you? Sorry.”

“And another two G and Ts. I don’t usually drink that much—don’t usually drink at all during the week. I got home at midnight and totally crashed out!”

Kris’s smile was back. “I don’t drink much either.”

Phew! Not all in my head.

In the cafeteria, they queued together, neither speaking. It felt natural, comfortable, as if there was no need to fill the silence with small talk, yet Ade needed to know he wasn’t making another horrible mistake. Could he ask?Are you single? Interested? The sort of person to kick the living daylights out of your partner and then beg for a chance to do it again?

They bought lattes and took them over to the same table as the previous morning. For a while, they sat, quietly sipping and watching the activity around them, but anticipation hung in the air. Several times, Ade caught Kris doing the same thing he kept doing—taking a breath to speak and then releasing it. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but the longer it went on, the harder it became.There was so much he could have said that it seemed safer to say nothing.

Ade had just tipped the last of his latte into his mouth when Kris, bravely and devastatingly, broke the silence.

“If you ever want to talk about the bruises, I’m here to listen.”

The latte almost came back out. Ade swallowed and glared, but he couldn’t hold the eye contact. It was too probing.

“Or not,” Kris added. “You just seem so…”

When Kris didn’t finish the statement, Ade chanced looking up at him again. “So what?” he asked.

Kris shrugged. “On edge, I guess. Like when I called your name earlier… I’m sorry I startled you.”

“It’s OK. I was miles away.” Ade studied the frothy remnants of his drink. “You know that section of dialogue, after Rose wakes Tommy? I had a dream last night about that scene.”

“Understandable. We ran it four times yesterday.”

“True. But in the dream, it was you and me. And you were Rose.”

Kris made a sad face. “Was my Tommy that awful?”

Ade laughed. “You know it wasn’t, but you also make a wonderful Rose.”

Kris bowed his head in exaggerated thanks.

Ade rolled his eyes. “The lines were switched at the end, though. In my dream, I mean.” He felt his cheeks heat up. Why was he telling Kris this? It was one thing flirting and passing compliments, another entirely sharing his dream or any of his other thoughts, because this was already way deeper than physical attraction. For all Ade knew, Kris offered a listening ear to everyone and got hit on all the time. With the loud shirts and snug-fit pants, he didn’t exactly dress to blend into the background. That was a big part of the attraction, Ade realised. That Kris was permitted to dress however he liked.

Permitted.How ridiculous that anyone should need permission to wear the clothes they wanted to.

“I used to wear bright colours.” Ade quickly covered his mouth with his hand, wincing at the pressure on his bruises. He hadn’t meant to say it, but there was no taking it back now.

7: Bottle

Kris

Kris didn’t comment, or not in words. By the time they’d finished recording yesterday, he’d been completely captivated by the contradiction that was Ade Simmons, assertive producer, cool, calm and in control, versus the nervous, almost meek man he became away from his domain.

Watching Ade now, it was like those two sides were at war with each other. The set of Ade’s jaw, tensed shoulders and clenched fists said he was ready to flee, yet that defiant glare was back, challenging Kris to ask why, but he already knew. He’d picked up on it almost at the start, even before he’d seen the bruises, but he hadn’t been sure until Ade’s reaction in the corridor.

So no, he wasn’t going to ask why because it was dishonest and voyeuristic and would block Ade’s only escape route—

“Of course,” Ade said, matter-of-fact, “I have to attend a lot of meetings with management.”

—and he’d taken it.

“There are…expectations.” He gestured to his attire, today a plain navy shirt open at the neck, black brushed-denim jeans and black suede loafers. Casual and stylish, but very plain and middle-aged, completely at odds with the boyishly handsome face with a sprinkling of freckles across the nose and hairstyle straight out ofGQ.

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