Page 57 of Someone Like You

“I could use some water.”

Ian nodded. They’d left the fountain behind them, but it wasn’t distant.

“C’mon. We still have two miles to go.”

chapter 10

IAN

Of all the countless ill-advised decisions he’d made, befriending a prickly American stranger had seemed one of the most harmless.

A stranger carrying life-long fatigue in the bags under his eyes and the most dazzling charm in his smirk. And then there was that peculiar brand of sharp humour that was so in tune with Ian’s own wit that it almost felt like a direct prolongation of it. The same pace. The same wavelength.

And while he was busy having fun with Phil’s jokes and jibes, Phil’s brokenness had crept under his skin, worming its way through Ian’s defences, quiet and unnoticed, and had made a home for itself in his heart. It’d lived there for months now. December was around the corner and Ian was dragging himself from rainy day to rainy day looking forward to when he’d see or even just hear from Phil again. He was constantly craving it — the intellectual arousal only Phil’s brain could elicit in his brain and the ego-puffing reward from therueful chuckles he could wrangle out of Phil. Like a bloody addiction.

He was ridiculous.

And pathetic.

Kibble headbutted him for attention. She was purring like a tractor, loafed upon his chest like a fur angel guarding his aching heart. The football match on TV was a blur of sounds and colours in front of him, a distraction as ineffective as the bottle of beer he’d been nursing since kick-off.

‘I love you.’

That was not something he’d expected to hear.

Ever.

Ian didn’t have any higher education, had never crossed Great Britain’s borders, and never had friends, let alone partners, as accomplished and sophisticated as Abigail… Next to Phil, even on Phil’s worst days, Ian had always felt like a yokel, albeit not in a bad way. Phil appreciated him for who he was and there hadn’t been a moment Ian had felt inferior to him in any way, but it was impossible to ignore how different their backgrounds were.

Even in his daydreams, he’d never gone that far. Beinglovedby Phil felt like a stretch.

‘It’s like loving the stars themselves: you don’t expect a sunset to admire you back.’

Where had he heard that rubbish? Some cheesy TV show probably.

Those three simple words had simultaneously felt like the greatest gift and a death sentence.

He hadn’t said it back, despite desperately wanting to. What use would it be? Make everything harder than it already was?

Perhaps he was just a coward.

Kibble let out a whiny mewl and rubbed herself against his beard again, over and over, her cold wet nose skimming over the tip of his own.

“You’re a nasty piece of work, lady,” he chortled under his breath as his hands came up to stroke her back. Now that she had what shewanted, Kibble finally settled, stretching out her neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. A sad smile tugged at his lips when he remembered this was how he’d held Phil in the kitchen. Just as carefully. Just as fondly.

‘Do you feel it, too? Is it killing you, too?’

Killingdidn’t even begin to describe it.

Something that killed you wasn’t supposed to make you feel so burninglyalive.

He never talked to anyone. Never liked anyone. Neverclickedwith anyone. Why didthe one personhe’d talked to and liked and clicked with have to be an engaged guy from overseas? What were the odds?

Fate had a questionable sense of humour.

He remembered falling in love with Jamie, how fast it’d been. So fast it had made Ian’s head spin. Jamie had been like a magnet: outgoing, cocky, bratty, undeniably attractive in all the ways Ian liked, and the fuse between meeting him and loving him had been short. They’d been happy together long enough for Ian to start imagining the future they could have together, the things they could do. Go to Spain on holiday. Move in together. Adopt another cat. Spend Christmas in the Highlands in Ian’s grandmother’s cottage. It had all gone up in smoke as fast as it had ignited.

With Phil, love had come so quietly Ian hadn’t had any chance to detect it until it was too late. He’d seen Phil asleep on his couch and he’d known. He’d known by the way his entire body had yearned to lie beside him and keep him safe and warm. The closest to it he’d allowed himself to do was get Phil blankets and leave Kibble to guard him. A caress was all he’d dared and he’d regretted it the moment his fingers had touched Phil’s hair. Unforgivably foolish of him to let himself borrow a taste of something he knew he couldn’t have. But then, the morning after, a very emotionally distressed Phil hadbeggedhim for an embrace, and Ian hadn’t been able to deny him it, even if that embrace had killed him inside.

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