Page 17 of Fe
“I think when my mum caught me using her make-up, she had an idea I was different. I never had to tell her I was gay. No need to ever have that discussion.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, do you?”
“No.”
He needed to think this through. It was possible he could persuade Fen into his bed tonight, and although that was what he wanted, it was also not quite what he wanted. Not yet. Not until conditions had been laid down. It had to be that way. He needed to know exactly where he stood. Control was everything, setting parameters. Then it was up to Fen.
Fen had only drunk half a glass of red wine. It was smooth and tasty, very probably the most expensive wine he’d ever had in his life, but he had to be careful with alcohol. He definitely couldn’t get tipsy. He was unsteady enough sometimes as it was. But he felt sort of drunk, filled with the sensation of the world being too bright, as if it was shimmering around the edges of his vision. He was excited to be eating out in a smart restaurant with a good-looking guy, chatting and…flirting. He knew Ripley was interested in him. The feeling was mutual.
Right until reality gave him a hard slap.Get a grip!This was not a date. This was a thank you for returning the medal and the other stuff.MaybeRipley wanted to fuck him, but he wouldn’t want to go out with him.I’m nowhere near his type. So why am I still sitting here?Because it would be rude to get up while Ripley was still eating? Really?Or something else?
Ripley’s apology had felt sincere. Fen had a feeling he didn’t apologise very often. He half-wished he wasn’t attracted to him, but he was. Someone untouchable, unapproachable and yet Fen was pretty sure that beneath his protective shell, Ripley was a very different man, one Fen thought he might like to get to know.
But maybe Ripley wasn’t thinking of getting to know him. All the questions were merely part of his barristerial nature. Fen would make his long way home tonight and that would be that. The only time he’d feature in Ripley’s life was if Ripley told the story of him and the medal to amuse friends at a dinner party.
Yet…if Ripley made a move on him, what should he do?I’m not so desperate for a fuck.It wasn’t as if Fen would be such a good lay that Ripley would want to see him again. Fen watched the remains of his food get taken away and thought how what he’d left would have made him a meal for another day, but he guessed men like Ripley didn’t eat leftovers and Fen wasn’t sure if asking to have what was left boxed up was the right thing to do in a place like this. Dessert and coffee were offered but Fen said no. He was tired and more unhappy than he wanted to be.
Ripley hadn’t asked him about his crutch. Fen had never spent so long with anyone and not been asked what was wrong with him.
What’s wrong with you?How he hated that question. He always wanted to say there was nothingwrongwith him. Of the guys he’d been with—and there hadn’t been many—of those whohadasked, all had shrugged when he’d told them it was a genetic thing. Somehow, he knew Ripley would press him. He’d push and push until Fen had told all of it, then he’d feel sorry for him and Fen wouldn’t like him anymore.
Do I like him now?It was an interesting question. Fen was definitely attracted to him and the apologyhadmade Fen like him more, as had not arguing about the money. Ripley had stared at Fen more than anyone had ever stared at him. Quite an irony he’d considered telling Ripley about the BMD, wanting to shock him, stir up some emotion, but Fen never volunteered details about his condition unless he was directly asked.
Ripley paid with his credit card. They picked up their coats at the door and were helped to put them on. A first for Fen since he was a kid. The door was opened for them, and they stepped outside. Well, that had been an experience. And Fen was all for new experiences. “Thank you for the meal. Night.”
As he set off, Ripley called, “Wait.” He gestured to the car pulling up next to them. “The car’s here. I’ll give you a lift.”
Fen almost cut his nose off to spite his face, but his aching hip stopped him.I’m lying to myself now?“Thank you.”
They took off their coats again and as Ripley climbed into the back next to him, his fingers grazed Fen’s thigh above his knee, and the breath caught in Fen’s throat. He knew Ripley had heard the sound, quiet as it had been. The privacy screen was in place and Fen wondered how far Ripley would go. But then his hand moved away so Fen had to assume the touch had been accidental. Pity, because it had lit Fen up like a match thrown into a pile of hay. Instant conflagration. He was tingling as if little fires had erupted all over him.
“Where do you live?” Ripley asked.
Fen told him. Well, the street, not the number.And I bloody squeaked.Ripley relayed the information to his driver. He could feel Ripley looking at him and Fen was afraid to turn and face him, afraid of sayingyeswhen he knew he should sayno.Though there was no way he was inviting Ripley up the stairs to his place. Then the hand was back where it had been before and if it had been an accident then, it wasn’t now. Ripley’s other hand slipped to the back of Fen’s neck and pulled him in.
Fen’s exhalation was noisy and shaky. He thought Ripley was going to kiss him. HewantedRipley to kiss him, but it didn’t happen. Ripley held him close, his fingers gently massaging above Fen’s knee, while his thumb stroked the back of Fen’s neck.No more squeaking!
“Is the crutch permanent or temporary?”
Fen tried not to be disappointed with the question or the timing. Though if Ripley hadn’t asked, how would Fen have interpreted that?
“Permanent.”
“Why?”
Ripley’s mouth was inches from his, Fen could feel his breath hitting his face.
“Shark attack.” Fen had thought about saying that lots of times but never had.
Ripley raised his eyebrows.He knows I’m lying. Of course he does!And not only because Fen had told him he didn’t have a passport. Or because shark attacks off the coast of Britain were extremely rare.
“Did the shark survive?”
Fen swallowed hard. “I have muscular dystrophy.”
The knee massage stopped, as did the stroking with the thumb, and Ripley edged back. Only a little but he did edge back.
