Page 91 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Freddie
The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. My mum cried when I told her my news, my dad told me he’d known as soon as I called, without being told, because he’d felt it in his water, which was way more information than I wanted. Mum wrung a promise from me to come home for a few days, not that she had to wring very much, because there’s no way I’m leaving without seeing my family.
Cosmo dragged me out with a crowd of friends and I’d got totally and thoroughly pissed, and had to be poured into the back of a cab at the end of night. My Prof. even took me out to lunch.
Oh, but the bureaucracy. There are so many forms to be filled in. Accommodation. Finance. Orientation. What I’m going to be working on. Zoom meetings with the team. Zoom meetings with the Institute Director. Zoom meetings with the other recruit, earnest Randy from Pennsylvania. It’s exciting, exhilarating, scary. It’s everything I want.
Except it isn’t, anymore, because I don’t want to go.
Elliot and I have been tiptoeing around each other since I gave him the news. He’s pleased for me, I know he is, but there’s something restrained about him. His smiles are guarded, his touch cooler. We’ve had sex, plenty of sex, over the last couple of weeks, but that’s all it’s been. We’ve made each other come so hard we’ve both seen stars. But there’s been a fevered desperation to our coupling, and after, we’ve rolled away from each other, sneaking away almost guiltily to clean off, to shower alone. No cuddles, no gentle kisses, no falling asleep in each other’s arms.
We’ve not made love, we’ve had sex.
But that’s the deal I went in on, sex was at the heart of it. Except in these last couple of weeks, there’s been no heart. He’s retreating from me, I can feel it. When I go, I’ll be a good memory, but that’s all I’ll be, the breathing space and the sticking plaster which helped him to heal.
* * *
Waterstones on Gower Street is one of my favourite places in the world. No matter how crappy I’m feeling, immersing myself in the huge bookshop I know like the back of my hand, is a balm. I’ve been in here a lot, recently, yet somehow its magical healing properties no longer feel quite so potent.
Mooching around the Scandinavian History section, I’m looking for what might be new in, but there isn’t anything here I’ve not read before. I’ve called in on my way home — not to Elliot’s but Cosmo’s. We’re going out again, another bar, maybe even a club. He’s taken on the role of organising my many leaving drinks with focused, razor-sharp efficiency. I’m determined not to get so trashed tonight, but I said the same thing the last time we went out.
I make my way to the floor where most of the fiction books are, and look through all the latest offerings from the big-name crime authors, knowing that the £12.99 price tags are too much for me. Still, it doesn’t stop me looking and reading a little, and taking the odd surreptitious photo with my phone, when the booksellers aren’t around, so that I can have a look online later.
My nose is stuck in one book, and I’m so swept up in the story I’m wondering if I can shell out for the paperback, when a voice behind me I thought I’d never hear again says my name. The muscles in my neck, shoulders and back stiffen, but I turn on what I hope looks like a bright and sunny smile before I swing around. It’s time to play a role again, although this time there’s nothing clear cut and all the lines are blurred and fuzzy.
“Hello Gav,” I say, using the shortened version of his name that gets under his skin so much, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.
“Freddie. When I saw you, I had to come and say hello. Bookshops aren’t really my thing, if I’m honest. I’ve never been much of a reader, but I’m here to buy a gift for—well, for somebody.” He holds up the carrier bag. “Personally, I think a good craft gin would be so much better, but they asked for a particular book…” He shrugs his shoulders as though the idea of a book is incomprehensible. “So, how are you?”
His smile’s friendly enough, but I can’t help feeling like he’s caught me on the back foot.
“I’m fine.”
“Good, I’m glad. And what’re you doing here?”
“I came in to buy a bag of chips.” The words fly out of my mouth. It’s a fucking bookshop, for God sake. What does hethinkI’m doing here?
Gavin laughs. “Well, I asked for that, I suppose. Smart answer, but then you’re a student aren’t you? Elliot says you’re a clever boy.”
“Cleverboy?Not really sure how I should take that.” I want to grind my teeth into dust, but instead I smile at him, playing make believe that this is just banter.
“On face value, I’d say. I was thinking of having a coffee, in the café here. It’s the only reason I ever come in here, if I’m honest. Would you like to join me?”
Erm, no, I don’t think so.Why the hell would he want to have coffee with me? I want to finish this, and finish it now.
“Thanks but I’ve got to go. I’m seeing Elliot.” I watch him, waiting for his reaction. It comes, but it’s not the one I’m expecting.
“Oh, right. I see.” His brows pull in and his lips twist into an embarrassed smile, and when he looks at me there’s something pitying in his eyes. What the fuck is he getting at, because he’s getting atsomething.
“You see what?”
“Ah, this is… How should I put it? Awkward? Yes, awkward. Look, you need to speak to Elliot. It’ll be better coming from him. Oh, Freddie, I’m so sorry.”
Gavin puts his arm out, whether to give my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, or pat me on the head for theboyI am, but I knock his arm away, and he staggers back a step.
“Temper tantrums?” His voice is smooth, as if the last few seconds haven’t happened. “It’s not the type of thing Elliot would put up with for long.”
