Page 77 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Thirty-One
Freddie
I take a very quick look around to make sure the prissy librarian isn’t anywhere in sight, before I duck down and take a massive bite out of my sandwich. Home-made hummus and grated carrots. Lots of home-made hummus and lots of grated carrot. The supermarket was doing a buy one get one free deal on tinned pulses and the carrots were dirt cheap because they’d reached their sell by date. Getting all this stuff with my staff discount is one of the perks. Chick peas and carrots, I know how to live.
On a warm, late Thursday afternoon, the university library’s quiet. I’ve been here for what feels like hours, and I think I’ve had my fill of the role of hallucinogenic drugs in Norse warrior culture for today. I’ve unearthed some fascinating stuff, though, and I know Elliot will be interested, when I see him later. I take another illegal bite of my sandwich and think about the conversation I had with my Prof. earlier.
My application for one of the gold dust placements at the Institute in Oslo is being favourably considered — very favourably, she’d emphasised. But although the prize is within my reach, there’s a lot of competition. I’m nearly there, and if I do get a place, it’ll be a massive plus on my CV and a big step towards the career in academia I’m working towards. Then why don’t I feel more excited?
In my jeans pocket, my phone buzzes and I pull it out, taking a quick look around for Miss Prissy but she’s nowhere to be seen. The handful of other people who’re here are far enough away for me not to bother them. I look at the caller name and smile just as I always do.
“Hello,” I say quietly.
“Why are you whispering? Are you in the library?”
“Yes, I’ve been here all afternoon but I’m just finishing up now. Where are you?”
“Heathrow. My taxi will be here soon.”
“Okay. Should I see you back at the house? I’ll get the kettle on,” I say with a laugh.
And I can have the kettle on because I’ve got a key. Well, that’s not quite true, I suppose, but it’s close enough.
Elliot’s got one of those outside electronic safe things, where you keep a spare set of keys. He’d given me the code when he’d been away on business, a month or so ago, when there’d been a Jasper-related emergency.
Rosa, Elliot’s cleaner, was supposed to have been keeping an eye on the crazy mutt, but she’d had a sudden family-related crisis, and couldn’t do it. Elliot had been frantic, and asked if I could help. I’d ended up staying at the house, because it was easier if I was there to feed Jasper and take him for walks. Elliot didn’t change the code when he got back, and we kind of agreed, without explicitly agreeing, that I could carry on using the key.
“That’d be good. Unless you’ve got other arrangements, of course?”
I hear the unspoken words in his voice.Unless you’re going out with friends… Unless you’re seeing somebody…We’ve never explicitly agreed exclusivity because we’re not in a proper relationship. We’re friends, friends with benefits. But exclusive is what I’ve been, and I know it’s been the same for Elliot.
“No, no arrangements of any description. I’ll have the kettle on, and your slippers waiting.” I laugh, but the laughter catches in my throat because I quite like that vision.
“What’s that?” I ask. He’s talking to me and I’m lost in a day dream featuring cups of tea and slippers.
“I said we can order in some food. There’s that new Thai place down the road which is pretty good.”
“No, you’ve got a house full of grub. The order came in yesterday. I can cook if you like?”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“It’s not a problem.” And it’s not, it’s not a problem in any shape or form, because I like cooking for him. But I don’t tell him that, and instead I make my voice extra cheery. “Shepherds pie all right?”
One of the things I’ve learned about Elliot is his soft spot for all the traditional home-cooked dishes.
Shepherds pie, toad in the hole, Lancashire hot pot, and Sunday roasts. I’ve cooked them all for him and he’s been appreciative. Very appreciative. I shift in my seat as my dick stirs in its denim prison. My balls are heavy and achy with their unshed load. Heat curls up in tendrils in the pit of my stomach as I think of being naked in Elliot’s bed, and a small groan escapes my lips.
“Freddie? You okay? It’s so noisy here and it’s not a great line—”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I rush out, but I’m anything but if the throbbing in my balls is anything to go by. “I’d better go, I’m getting the evils from the librarian,” I whisper. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
Back at the house, where he’ll be hot and sweaty and in need of a shower… The scene opening up before me is reminiscent of one of Cosmo’s porn stash. For years we’ve had weekly sessions, with cold beer and a delivery pizza. Some of it’s hot but mostly it’s cheesy and makes us laugh. The porn, not the pizza. We’ve not done that for a while, in fact I’ve not seen too much of Cosmo lately. He’s recently got a promotion, and he’s away on business a fair bit. We’ve become ships in the night. I know he’s home tonight, though… trouble is, I’m not.
My phone pings with a message, and there he is, as though I’ve summoned him.
You home tonight?
No, staying at Elliot’s.
