Page 13 of Someone Like You

The truth was that Phil had caught him off guard. Ian had grown up collecting stray animals, often injured, from the streets, and as soon as Phil had lifted his belligerent frown from the ground Ianhad seen the same dismay of a bird caught in a storm in his eyes, the instinct of fighting to stay alive hanging on a thinning thread of soul-deep tiredness.

But Phil carried his inner exhaustion with a sprinkle of self-deprecating humour that had made him inexplicably likeable to Ian, even though after two weeks of regularly running together they still liked to pretend they couldn’t stand each other.

The‘no talking’rule hadn’t lasted long. They enjoyed talking to each other, whether it was for teasing purposes or serious conversations. What Ian truly appreciated about Phil was that he didn’t wallow in self-commiseration: he spoke openly about depression and the eerie thoughts it could put in your head, about his struggles with therapy and healing, and Ian’s respect for him had only grown when he’d realised how much of that determination to pull through came from Phil’s devotion for his girlfriend.

“Still with me, Handsome?” he asked, glancing to his side.

“Just because I’m quiet, doesn’t mean I’m struggling!” Phil panted. His face was flushed and sweaty, but he was keeping up. He had the stamina of a practised runner, even though his breathing wasn’t as smooth as it once must’ve been. Nothing a couple of months of training couldn’t fix.

Ian wasn’t used to small talk, anyway: he worked in silence, had his drinks in silence at the pub, even when he was watching football with his fellow Celtic fans. But Phil’s slow, calm voice and his intelligence made him a pleasure to listen to, even when they disagreed on a subject. “You’ve got somethin’ on your mind when you go quiet like that.”

“I tend to zone out when I’m thinking.”

“Don’t think too much, it’ll give you more wrinkles.”

“I think you’re jealous of my wrinkles.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“They give me a sophisticated charm. While all you have is your lame two-hundred-seventy pounds of beef.” He skimmed a meaningful look down Ian’s body as they crossed the street towards the park.

“Twenty stone, actually,” Ian rectified, for the sake of accuracy. “That’ll be two-hundred andeightypounds of beef for you.”

Phil let out a choked snort.

They sprinted into the park for the last couple of miles of the day. They’d been graced by some sunlight lately and everything was lush and bright green, the last vestiges of summer before autumn. Phil went silent again for a long while. They stopped at a fountain to drink and freshen up before going to the café. Ian was crouched to wash his face when he heard Phil sigh above him.

“Abby wants to meet you.”

Ian pulled himself up, wiping his face with a sleeve of his hoodie.

“One dinner, that’s all I need,” said Phil, forehead creased up in an imploring expression. “Think you can pretend you like me for a couple of hours?”

Ian, whose social skills were limited, to put it mildly, didn’t know what to say. He was curious to meet Abigail, but didn’t want to lie in her face. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to let Phil down either.

“Best I can do is ten minutes.”

A side of Phil’s mouth quirked up. “Still longer than I can pretend to likeyou.”

Ian chuckled low in his throat. Every time Phil countered him, his irritation dwindled a bit more, submerged by a warm wave that always caused him to lose track of the conversation for a split second.Go on, a hungry voice inside him wouldn’t stop whispering.Keep running that mouth.It had gotten so bad that even losing the upper hand at this verbal sparring was a pleasure.

Phil bent down to drink, then rubbed a wet hand over his glistening face. “Do you take bribes?” he enquired, glancing up at Ian.

“What’s on the table?”

Phil put a hand on his knee to push up to his feet. “Authentic home–made Italian meal,” he groaned. “Red wine included.”

“Deal.”

Phil’s jaw fell. “Really? That easy?”

“I was willing to sell myself for a slice of frozen pizza.”

“Whore.”

Ian felt that warm flare again. He pushed it away the same way he pushed Phil away from the fountain, but, unlike Phil, who indulged the nudge and jogged off towards the main path, the warmth stayed there, rooted in Ian’s chest. Immovable.

Glasgow hadn’t looked so crowded in weeks: people were coming out of the woodwork to take advantage of what would probably be the last sunny Saturday of the season and, as expected, the outside tables ofLa Dolce Vitawere already taken when Ian and Phil arrived. As they reached the zebra crossing, Ian spotted something that made him take a step back. Phil shot him a questioning look.

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