Page 33 of Reinventing Cato
This was a mistake.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Cato said into his chest. “You’re giving me a complex.”
Vigge needed to stop this now before it went too far.
Cato rolled to one side and yelped as they peeled apart. “Hello, Siamese twin! That was an easier separation than I’d anticipated. Not even any blood spilt.”
Too much flirting, too much joking, too much getting to like each other. It could only lead in the wrong direction. To expectations that couldn’t be met. This was an opportunity taken, that was all. But…
Damn that bloody word.They hadn’t fucked and as much as Vigge wanted to, maybe it was better that they ended this now.
Cato leaned up on his elbow. “Stop worrying. I know we’re not going to see each other again. I like you. You turn me on, but we live in different worlds. I need to be able to continue operating my drug empire without wondering if you’ll feel obliged to arrest me. You need to carry on with searching for criminals without fear of finding I’m one of them.”
Vigge wasn’t taken in by the humour. His silence had hurt Cato. But there was no lack of communication. No misunderstanding. They both knew what this was.So why can’t I say something?
“There, that’s given you the perfect get out. Okay?” Cato said quietly. “And just in case you’re wondering, no, I don’t take drugs. I never have.”
He pushed to his feet and headed for the bathroom, and Vigge let him go. He listened to the water pouring from the shower and thought about joining him. If he went in there, they’d end up fucking and that would just make things worse.I want to have sex with him. Oh God. I want to keep him. I want to see him again. I want him in my life.
And I can’t have him.Maybe he was assuming too much, thinking Cato wanted more.
When Cato climbed back into bed, Vigge was facing the other way. He’d shower once Cato was asleep.
“Don’t be off with me,” Cato said quietly. “We had fun. We could have more fun if you like.” He paused. “No gropey hands? No goodnight kiss? No big spoon, little spoon?”
Vigge didn’t move. He was biting his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He knew he was being a dick but he still said nothing.
“Okay. I guess that’s it,” Cato said. “Tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye and there’ll be no demands, no arrangements made, no promises given. That’s my usual MO and that’s what you want, isn’t it? I get that you’re mostly in the closet. I’m not trying to drag you out. Honest.”
Vigge said nothing.
Cato sighed. “We’re big boys. We can cope. It’s what gay guys do—when they’re out, that is. Have fun fucking, then fuck off. I’ll shut up now before I say something I don’t mean to let slip out.”
Vigge still didn’t speak. It was better to stay silent because if he opened his mouth, he might tell the truth, that there had never been a boyfriend in his life.
Cato nuzzled Vigge’s neck. Breathed on him. “Did I do something wrong?” he whispered.
Yes, you made me want you too much.It was clearly easier for him to stay quiet than Cato. But he managed to force “No,” from his lips.
“Hmm. Tell you what, I’ll go and cadge a lift with someone else. No need to take me any further. Yeah, I think it’s best that you don’t. I’m not sure my h…”
Vigge heard a phone ring. Not his. The mattress shifted as Cato got off the bed.
“Hi, Devan,” Cato said. “Yep, sorry. I forgot you wanted me to ring… I’m fine… No, I’ve not been dumped at a McDonald’s… Yes, deeply occupied with an episode ofHolby Cityand realising I’m crap at CPR… Yes, he’s fine. Still alive… Thanks… No, I won’t make a snap decision. I’m not even sure if… Nothing… Okay… Yep.”
Vigge knew he’d ruined everything. Even if he said something now, he’d spoiled what had gone before. So let it be ruined. It was better that way. While the phone call was ongoing, he went to take a shower. Hopefully, he’d come back to find Cato asleep.
Chapter Six
The moment Vigge closed the bathroom door, Cato ended the call. He exchanged lenses for glasses, dressed quickly and silently, packed up his stuff and slipped out of the room. Yes, he was probably an idiot for not waiting until morning, but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to lie next to a silent Vigge, then sit alongside him for another three hours tomorrow and pretend he was okay with being ignored. Cato felt hurt and embarrassed. And a bit used. Not usual for him. Maybe there was a God, teaching him a lesson for all the times he’d done more or less what Vigge was doing.
Except not the fucking silence.
Vigge’s silence said everything, except it said nothing because Cato didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Vigge had said he hadn’t—just given him that one wordno,but obviously he’d done something. Except he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he’d done.
Let it go!
Didn’t this serve him right? He’d spent so long not caring, taking rather than giving, that when he finally let himself like someone, and even dared harbour the tiny thought of maybe seeing them again, going on a—don’t choke on the word—date,hewas the one who got hurt. It was easier to forget he’d ever met Vigge in the first place, which presumably was what had been going through Vigge’s head just after Cato had made him come hard enough to…Bastard.
