Page 18 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Nine

Patrick

Connor’s music played softly through the stereo as we made our way along the motorway. He was singing along, attempting to find the perfect music for his dream pole routine. He’d already eaten his first bag of wine gums. It was a good thing I’d bought several, considering we were only an hour into the trip.

“So, what are you looking for in music?” I asked, watching Connor do a little chair dance and conduct an invisible band while singing about how much he liked boys.

“Ideally something slow-ish with a strong beat. Too fast and it throws you off and you try to catch up. You need something that you can move to the tempo of and that accentuates your movements. It can be sweet or sad or sexy or anything really. It depends on you as a performer and the things that work for you. I know someone who does more slow, acrobatic routines because they suit her, and I know a guy who uses seventies psychedelic rock. I saw one doubles team do a routine to a mash up of the Baywatch theme song and ‘Baby Shark’.”

“That sounds… interesting.” I tried to imagine how that might work. I couldn’t picture it at all.

“Honestly, best thing I’ve ever fucking seen. It’s on YouTube. I’ll have to show you one day.” Connor grinned and tucked his foot up onto the seat.

“What about you? What do you like?”

“I like sexy songs. I like to feel sexy when I perform.” He shrugged, and I swallowed. “It suits me, and it makes me feel amazing. I’ve tried other styles, and I can do them, but I’m at my best when I’m sexy. I put on my boots, knee pads, and tiny pole shorts, and maybe just a little bit of glitter, plus a full face of make-up, and I feel like I can do anything. I feel… powerful.” I glanced across the dashboard at him, and he smiled softly. “Some people think it’s slutty and inappropriate, but I love it. I’ve never felt more welcome than I have in the pole community. It’s full of lovely people of all ages, genders, sexualities, and sizes, and none of that matters. It’s your passion and your drive that’s important. Everyone just supports each other. I honestly couldn’t think of anything else I’d want to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love ballet, and I love doing ballet-inspired routines, but… ballet was just never as welcoming to me.”

I tried to think of something to say, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. Mostly because my brain had started remembering all the videos I’d seen of Connor on Instagram, dancing in the studio in his knee-high boots and little black shorts. I’d always wondered if it was wrong of me to watch them. I wanted to watch them to support him because he was my best friend and he was incredibly talented, but on the other hand, the last time I’d tried to watch one of his videos I’d nearly passed out from blood loss to my brain.

I’d had to go and take a very long, very cold shower while reminding myself it was totally inappropriate to think about my friend like that. Even if Connor probably would have been flattered instead of upset.

Ever since then, I’d liked his videos without watching them. I thought that was a fair compromise.

I must have been quiet for a moment too long because Connor suddenly said, “You don’t have a problem with me being sexy, do you?”

“No! Of course not.” Well, technically I did. Just not the sort of problem Connor was thinking. “I love that you’re passionate about pole, and you’re an amazing dancer. You’re gonna do great when you compete this year.” I hoped I sounded sincere, but I was worried there was a tell-tale crack in my voice.

“Thanks, babe. Hey, the East Midlands Championships are in Nottingham this year. You should come watch.”

“That sounds great.” I meant it. If Connor wanted me there, I’d be there. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.

“I already submitted a routine. They had a really early submission date, so I put something in. It was a good warm-up for when I have to submit the routine for Chrome Stars in August.”

“What music did you use?” I knew Connor was obsessed with finding the perfect songs for his routines, and I was curious to see what he’d chosen.

“‘I Like Boys’ by Todrick Hall. It’s really fun and sexy, and Levi thinks I’m a shoo-in to get selected for the final.”

“Then I’ll definitely come and watch. I’m sure you’ll be incredible.”

“You’re the sweetest.”

“It’s you, Connor, of course I’d come.” Without thinking, I reached my hand out and rested it on Connor’s leg, squeezing his thigh gently. I’d meant it as a friendly gesture, but now it felt like so much more than that. Silence hung heavy in the air between us. “Sorry,” I muttered, putting my hand back on the steering wheel.

“It’s, um… it’s fine.”

I looked at the SatNav, noticing we were just over halfway there, and, as if by fate, we passed a sign that said the next services were in two miles. “Do you want to stop for a break? Get a drink? Stretch your legs?”

“Sounds great.”

We pulled into the service station, and I let Connor go on ahead, feigning the need to call my mum to let her know how we were getting on. As soon as he’d disappeared out of sight, I ran my fingers through my hair, buried my face in my hands, and exhaled loudly.

Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick. Get it together.Connor did not need me drooling over him. That was so far beyond appropriate that I couldn’t even see the line I’d crossed. We were friends, nothing more. And friends did not want to jerk off to videos of their friends dancing. Even if it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

That was it. I needed to draw the line and get a fucking grip. Just because Connor was my “boyfriend” this weekend didn’t mean I had an excuse to act like a total creep.

Nodding to myself, I fired off a text to my mum and headed into the services.

After a quick trip to the toilets, I found Connor in the queue for Costa. He beckoned me over as soon as he saw me, and five minutes later, we both left with some sort of creamy, iced caramel coffee monstrosity. I hadn’t been convinced, but Connor had insisted I try one because they were supposedly incredible. Even though I was a pastry chef, I didn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, and one sip of the drink convinced me they’d basically just poured sugar and cream into a blender.

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