Page 67 of Commitment Issues
My hand scrambles amidst the bowls and plates behind me.
“How about a mini sausage?” I thrust the porky delight into the rapidly diminishing space between us. This close up, I see how glazed his eyes are.
“What?” he stares at the sausage like it’s something nasty under a microscope.
“They’re from Waitrose. Honey-glazed with a hint of chilli. £6.99 for twenty-four. Pricey but good.” I stuff it in my mouth and chew loudly in the hope that a mouthful of sweet and spicy pork will put him off trying to stick his tongue in me. It doesn’t.
He’s on me in an instant, all octopus hands and slobbering lips, which fortunately miss my mouth as I swing my head around, cringing as wet lips land on my ear.
“Piss off, Reg,” I hiss as I shove at him, trying to get my knee just right so as I can land it deep in his bollocks, but I don’t get the chance as he’s wrenched aside.
“I’m giving you a choice. You either leave, now, or I’ll take you outside and kick the living shit out of you. Which is it to be?”
I gawp as Elliot holds Rex by his dog collar, at arm’s length, as though he’s a bag of dog shit.
Rex makes some sort of gurgled sound and stumbles as Elliot tosses him aside, so he lands in a heap on a chair in the corner.
“Are you all right? I saw him launch himself on you like an Exocet missile.”
“Er, yeah, yeah, I am,” I stumble out.
The noise of the party recedes, and I can do nothing but stare at the man who’s dogged my thoughts and dreams over the past month. My heart’s skipping beat after beat, my pulse is thumping in my neck and the whoosh of blood fills my ears. He’s looking good, more than good, he looks fucking amazing just as always. But it’s not how he looks that’s burning me up inside. It’s him, just him. Elliot.
“Freddie?” His voice is quiet and gentle, yet it sends a shiver down my spine. A concerned frown puckers his brow. “Are you sure you’re—?”
“Yes. Fine,” I blurt out. “Really. He was drunk, that’s all. Took me by surprise. I’d just about got myself into a position to knee him in the, well, you know… Would you really have done that? Chucked him out or…?”Would you have done that, for me?
“Of course,” he says simply, sending tingling heat surging through my veins and a fluttering to my stomach. “Although I don’t think I need to, thank goodness. He’s not in any state to push in where he’s not wanted.”
I follow Elliot’s gaze. Rex is slumped over, a snoring heap on the chair.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” The words tumble my mouth.
Elliot’s lips lift in a lopsided smile. “Nor did I, until a couple of hours ago. James turned up on my doorstep, in what I think is supposed to be a Kylie outfit, and told me to get ready. The little runt’s very fierce when he wants to be. He gave me no option. But I’m glad he didn’t.”
“Oh? Oh, yes. Good. Well, it’s nice to see you again. So, you’ve come as James Bond?” Dinner jacket, bowtie, cummerbund… James Bond on steroids.
He laughs, slicing through my fantasy.
“No. This is what I wear when I have to attend formal dinners and functions.”
“Sure, erm… Can I get you a drink?” I don’t wait for an answer as I bound towards the fridge, and pull out the first thing I find.
“Flying Dingo.” I wrinkle my nose at the bright pink wine. “That sounds—”
“Revolting?” Elliot offers.
I look from the label to Elliot, at the amused smile tugging at his lips, and I laugh, bursting the weird bubble his appearance has wrapped me in, and my nervy tension drains away.
“Well, I think there might be something better. How about a beer?”
Grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, I flip the caps. “Cheers. It’s good to see you again.”
“And you too, Freddie.”
My spine tingles at the sound of my name on his lips. We sip our beers, as tongue-tied as each other, as all around us the party grows louder and more raucous. Has he come because of me? Is that why he’s here? I want to ask, I want to know, but all that comes out of my mouth is, “How’ve you been?”
“Busy, as always. I’ve been in Oslo for a few days, trying to wrap up a business deal. Isn’t that where you’re heading off to?”
