Page 26 of Someone Like You

The low rumble of Ian’s voice washed over Phil like a caress, bringing him down from his musings.

“It was alright,” he said without even thinking, surprising both Ian and himself. “I mean it,” he stressed, in response to Ian’s sceptical look. “Thanks for telling those guys to tone it down.”

“Someone has to look after you if you won’t.”

Phil glitched. He’d expected Ian to joke about it, or playfully mock him, as usual. An open admission wasn’t a counterattack he was prepared to take. The shadow he’d swept under the metaphorical rug poked its head out, sniffing Phil’s wavering. He kicked it back.

“I can’t believe you’re such a gentleman under that rough exterior,” he said, only half joking.

Ian snorted.

“You got me flowers, bought me a drink,” Phil counted on his fingers, “almost got yourself in a fight for me, and now you’re walking me home…”

“You’re big enough to get yourself home. My car’s right there.” Ian hinted at a spot ahead of them. Phil realised, much to his own disappointment, that they’d arrived at his door.

They lingered in the middle of the pavement, as if unsure about what to do next — as if‘Thanks’and‘Goodnight’hadn’t been the most logical things to say at this point of the night. Thunder rumbled weakly above them; dark clouds had invaded the sky, gathered by the rising wind. A raindrop fell on Phil’s cheek, one hit the tip of Ian’s nose. They didn’t move. There was electricity in the air, and it wasn’t due to the approaching storm.

Phil didn’t want the night to end. He felt light and serene and the usual tiredness that crept into his bones at the end of the day was nowhere to be found. Ian was studying him closely, the pale glow of the lamplights seeping through his dark eyelashes to paint long shadows on his cheekbones. He had thin lips, like Phil, but while Phil’s met in a straight line, Ian’s upper lip drew a pointed bow in the middle, which gave him a permanent roguish expression that would’ve been annoying if it hadn’t been, much like the rest of the man, so damn endearing.

Ian took a deeper breath and his pecs swelled, making Phil feel like they were locked in a closet rather than standing in a deserted street. Ian was watching him with a wistfulness in his eyes, something unspoken that Phil was drawn to without knowing why orhow.

He swallowed.

Ian’s lips stretched under the dark beard. “Better go get some kip, old man.”

The gentleness of that tone messed with Phil’s pulse, stealing a few beats. A yearning he couldn’t identify itched beneath his skin. All he managed to get out of his dry mouth was a croaky: “Drive safe.”

“Yes, Mum.”

The pinch of irony shook Phil out of his stupor. He blinked, feeling like a bubble had popped around him, shifting the world back into focus. He was able to return the ironyalmostseamlessly:

“Text when you get home.”

“Aye.”

Mischievous blue eyes caressed Phil down to his soul, and then Ian was walking away, muttering‘Goodnight’and‘See you tomorrow’.

Phil hung on to the promise of that‘tomorrow’to persuade himself to go inside rather than stare at Ian’s back like an idiot.

Ten minutes later, as he sat by the kitchen window to watch the rain while his chamomile brewed, his phone pinged.

Ian

I’m home

Got yelled at for breaking midnight curfew

Phil chortled at the attached video: Ian’s chubby calico cat, Kibble, rubbing herself all over her human’s shins, howling like a rabid siren.

You

Tell your boss I take full responsibility for your tardiness

Ian

She’s just a cat, Phil, she doesn’t know what tardiness means

You

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