Page 140 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Please come.”
“I’d rather stay here. If the surf’s up, I—”
“Don’t you dare go in the water on your own.”
Jonty took a step back. “Okay, Dad.”
Devan pulled him into his arms. “Sorry. But don’t.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“I need to go or I’ll be late. How would you like to stay in Newcastle tomorrow night and go to a club?”
“You can pole dance? I’m excited thinking about it.”
Devan laughed. “I’m off. Be good.”
Jonty pushed the door closed and made sure it was locked. Because…
There was a whole bookcase full of paperbacks at the far end of the room and Jonty went over to browse the titles. After the sex marathon they’d had last night—he ached, but in a good way—he planned nothing more strenuous than making a cup of coffee, lying on the couch, eating biscuits and reading. He chose a thriller by Jo Nesbo, dropped it on the cushion as he passed, and poured the last mug of coffee from the jug.
Do not take more than one biscuit.
Piss off, Tay.
He’s not going to love you if you get a fat arse.
You know nothing about what gay men like.
But Jonty only took one biscuit.
Love. What a fucking monstrosity of a word. It caused more anguish than almost any other, in Jonty’s life at least. He’d known Devan for one week. It wasn’t love. It was lust and overwhelming attraction and friendship and fun and… But could it grow into love? When did delusion turn into hope? How long for hope to turn into reality?
Jonty took the coffee and biscuit to the couch, put the coffee on the floor, the biscuit in his mouth and lay back. Then sat up and took his phone out of his pocket and put it next to his coffee in case he called Devan with his arse. He stretched out his legs and wriggled his bare toes under the cushion at the far end to keep them warm.
He didn’t have a good record in the love department. He’d thought his mother loved him and obviously she hadn’t, but he’d loved her until she’d left him.Aftershe’d left him too, for a long while, and then he didn’t. He wasn’t going to love her tomorrow no matter what excuse she gave for deserting him. There was no excuse she could give that would make him love her again.
The truth was, he was wobbling about seeing her. Did he really want to? How much more rejection could he take? It would be like ripping open a scar that had long healed but occasionally ached. Jonty knew his father didn’t love him. Well, maybe when he’d been a baby or a cute little kid, but Jonty’s memories of that far back were unreliable. He clung so hard to the good stuff that it warped his perceptions. He wanted to believe he’d been loved at some point in his childhood and yet he wondered if that was true. He’d never loved any of his very small number of—fingers on one hand—boyfriends. He’d never had a pet to love. Just a memory of his mother and sister until his heart finally broke.
Do I even know what love is?Wanting to be with someone, to look after them, be looked afterbythem. Putting someone before yourself. Having great sex. Wanting more great sex. Though it wasn’t all about sex.
You love me.
That was true. He did love Tay. No sex involved.Not quite true.Tay had meant the world to him. He couldn’t have asked for a better friend. He’d had a bit of a crush on Tay at one time, wanked off thinking about him more than one time, but he was so petrified of losing the only good friend he had that he’d never said anything, never given any hint of his attraction and when Tay had asked a girl in his class out on a date, after a few tearful nights, Jonty had let the crush go. That sounded a lot easier than it’d been.
He sipped his coffee and opened the book. A few pages in and he was hooked.
A hundred pages later, his phone rang and Jonty scooped it off the floor. “Hi, Mr I’ve-used-all-the-lube. Oh, are you on speakerphone?”
“No…fortunately. I’ve finished at the hotel and I’m heading for the car. All went well. Is there anything you need me to pick up?”
“More lube? A sex swing? Marlon Teixeira? I want to practice my I-can-turn-anyone-gay skills.”
Devan’s laugh sent a rush of pleasure through Jonty. “See you soon.”
As the call ended, Jonty heard the front door open. He thought Devan had tricked him with the call and was already home, but there was a tingling down his spine that made him cautious. He stayed where he was and called Devan back.
“Changed your mind about—?”
