Page 37 of Full Service

In all honesty though, I wanted him here. It wasn’t about the money anymore. It was the fear that if Hywel had such easy access to his car again he might decide to scrape together the money to go and stay at Tudor’s hotel, or somewhere in Aberystwyth. Or even get back to London quicker, if the money he was waiting on was returned to him. And I was enjoying having him here way too much.

I wasfucked.Pull yourself together, Mac. Just get the work done and let him do what he needs to do.

I got to work on his car as there was nothing else to do. Over the course of an hour, I sanded down and buffed down any scratches to the metal beneath, then taped up the headlight and surrounding areas before getting the can of primer out to spray it. I pulled a mask out of my pocket and fit it haphazardly over my beard before starting to spray. As an apprentice I’d never been all that big on safety until Steff pulled me aside one day and told me that his hacking cough wasn’t because of some 40-a-day habit, but repeated exposure to paint and petrol fumes. I’d worn a mask ever since.

I sprayed liberally, took a step backward to check for any imperfections and bumped into a warm form behind me. I turned with canister in hand, ready to…prime…any assailant, and Hywel laughed at me. He gently pushed the canister down and away from his face with one finger.

“Ready to spray to kill were you?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You were just so engrossed in your work that I don’t think you’d have heard anyone or anything.”

“Something like that…” I muttered.

“Well, I’d rather not get sprayed. This suit was expensive.” Hywel pointed down at his suit, which did look very expensive.

“You’d look better with it off anyway,” I said without thinking. An awkward silence seemed to stretch the distance between us for a couple of seconds. I was aware of how close we werephysically. I pulled the respirator down so that I wasn’t speaking to him like Bane off of Batman or something.

“Anyway…I’m off to work in the cafe. I left food for you upstairs in case you got hungry.”

“…thanks.” I could feel my cheeks warming as something uncomfortable squirmed its way up through my gut. I was being fuckinglooked afterin a way I had never been. Not by my parents, or university tutors, or housemates. Hywel was thinking of me all the fucking time. And I didn’t know how to feel exactly.

“Hywel stretched his arms upward, groaning. “Staying on the sofa isn’t any good for my back,” he declared. “I’ll be glad to be staying in a bed again.”

“You may as well stay in mine now,” I said without thinking. But how much weirder could it get?

When Hywel leaned forward to gently kiss me on the lips before pulling back with a blush on his own face, I didn’t know what to say except… “bye, then.”

“Right. Yeah. Bye.” And then as quickly as he had seemed to appear in the garage, he was gone. And I felt it like a hole in the fucking head. This was getting behind, it was stupid, it was like…like I was sixteen all over again.

I almost angrily got to work on the car again. I knew my movements were probably more dramatic than they needed to be, and that I threw some wide arcs with the burgundy canister of spray paint, but there was rarely an opportunity to get smashy as a mechanic. If I was, I’d probably lose my garage.

When I finally stood back to admire my handiwork I had to admit that I was good. Previously smashed in doors and panels restored or replaced. Paint carefully reapplied and scratches buffed out so you’d never know they were there. The Aston Martin of dreams was probably in a better state than before Hywel had crashed it. I wanted him to see how good it looked.

I dusted off my hands and removed my respirator from my face. My stomach rumbled, reminding me how long I’d actually been up and doing this so I walked out of the garage and into the bitter outside air. A couple of snowflakes had finally started to settle on the ground.

Just as I turned back to go upstairs to the flat and was thinking about how I really needed to get some stairs directly between the two spaces, I heard tyres on gravel.

Alun’s distinctive red Volkswagen Beetle rumbled into the driveway and I gave him a wave, indicating at the door. It was cold, I wanted to be inside and I knew he’d follow me up.

“Two sugars?” I asked as I heard the door slam behind him. I was already spooning the sugar liberally into my cup. I needed the energy today.

“Alaw’s cut me down to one,” grumbled Alun. I put two sugars in his cup anyway.

“Life’s too short for one sugar,” I replied, thinking of Hywel and his black, sugarless coffee.

“True that. How you doing?” Alun sprawled out on the sofa like he owned the place and waited for me to bring him the cuppa. I was half tempted to tip a little bit into his lap for being such a presumptuous bastard.

“Good thanks,” I walked him over the cup of tea before heading back to the kitchen to grab my cup of tea and the foil-wrapped sandwich Hywel had left on the side.

“Making yourself sandwiches now? Never knew you were so organised,” said Alun. I felt my cheeks heat and prayed that my beard was a good enough mask to cover them up.

I sat down next to him, plonked the tea down on he table and took a bite out of the sandwich. “What you doing here anyway?” I asked.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” said Alun casually. I raised one eyebrow at him, saying nothing before I took another bite. “Fine,” he relented. “I wanted to talk about Hywel.”

The sandwich felt like it was going to stick in my throat as I swallowed around it. My stomach roiled. What did he know. Did it matter if he knew anything?

“What about him?” I finally asked.

“Has he spoken to you recently?”

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