Page 8 of Animal Instincts
“It is. You’ve just got to lean into it and apply yourself.”
Verve. Lust for life. Bounce. James had it in spades, along with confidence and an unswerving belief that anything was possible if you were determined to go for it at full throttle.
Envy. Sudden, hot and undeniable. It ripped through Oliver. What he wouldn’t give for the smallest drop of that magic elixir.
“I know they’re not words you want to hear.”
Oliver met James’ gaze, and shrugged.
“I know you’re right. And for your information I have applied myself. Okay, so the dining club wasn’t for me. But I joined the hiking club. I went a few times.”
“The hiking club. Christ. You’ll be telling me you’ll be doing Zumba with Mandy next. You really do need to find that randy fisherman, you know.”
Neither said anything more for a couple or so minutes, both preferring to sit back and study the white clouds scudding across the clear blue sky. Birdsong filled the air, and Oliver closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him and the warmth of the sun caress his face; he breathed in deep, catching the tang of the sea.
Oliver’s eyes flew open as Perry returned from the house, placing a tray with a cafetière, a jug of milk — and only two mugs.
“I’ve got a number of calls to make, to do with the business,” he added, referring to his bespoke cake making enterprise. “I’m going to have to leave you both to it.” With a smile and a promise to see Oliver again before he and James returned to London, Perry disappeared back into the house.
James poured the coffee and studied Oliver over the rim of his cup. Oliver bit down on his groan. His friend wasn’t finished with him yet.
“When I suggested you cut your ties with London and everything that happened, to make a new life down here, I did it in the firm belief you’d recover and thrive. What I wasn’t expecting was for you to shrivel up like a pea, all dry and wrinkly. You’ll get old before your time—”
“What?” Oliver spluttered. “I’m not shrivelling up. And I’m only thirty-eight—”
“Then be thirty-eight. Not eighty-three. Although I’ve seen more lively octogenarians.” James plonked down his coffee, spilling a little over the side.
James stared at him, the intensity of his gaze pulling Oliver’s own to meet it. Oliver swallowed, seeing the concern reflected in his friend’s green eyes.
“You’re quiet and reserved. I get that, Oliver, even though you think I don’t. But you need to take the brakes off and push down on the accelerator pedal. It’s time to get the blood pumping through your veins again. And other parts of your anatomy.”
“And embarking on a mindless fuck fest is the way to do it, you mean? Is that your idea of rediscovering my verve?”
James didn’t bat an eyelid. Instead, he shrugged before he picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee.
“The old, pre-Perry me would have said yes, you can screw your way to health and happiness. But the new and improved version…”
He waved a hand at himself as his lips twisted up in a cocky grin that was so James, both the old and new versions, that Oliver couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.
“The infinitely better me says actually that isn’t so — even if it did take me most of my adult life to realise it. But it’s not about satisfying the carnal, hugely delicious though that is — that part’s the old James speaking, in case you’re wondering.
“It’s about opening yourself up and making the new life you came here for. And I’m not talking about hiking clubs and Zumba classes, although if they get the blood pumping… Oliver, I’m not advocating you join the local gay swingers club because I know that’s not you — don’t look at me like that. I’m reliably informed there’s a very lively chapter of the West of England Swingers Circle that takes place monthly on some farm just outside the village.
“You’re meant to be part of a couple — and please don’t look at me like that. I know you, so just take it from me you are.”
“My last attempt at cosy coupledom didn’t exactly go down a storm, did it?”
“That’s because you were with the wrong man. I knew it from the moment I saw the two of you together. Have you thought about internet dating?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Whyof course not? More your style than hook up apps, I would think.” James smirked.
“For god’s sake, James, just let me do things in my own time and in my own way.” Oliver shuddered. Lonely hearts, the flyer on the wall of the café. Yet wasn’t that what he was, just another lonely heart?
“In your own time, translated to mean never. I could help you with your profile. Sexy vet seeks his very own kitten. Me-owww.”
In spite of the horrific suggestion, Oliver burst out laughing.
