Page 5 of Amid Our Lines

“Um. You’re straight, for starters?”

“Wow.” Kojo’s face was the real-life equivalent of a jaw-dropping emoji. “That so? Big stuff, mate.”

“Seriously, though. Why would you tell your new employer—”

“Imply,” Kojo cut in.

“Why would you imply that you’ve got a boyfriend? Doesn’t seem like the best idea, starting your employment off on a half-lie.”

“But, hear me out,” Kojo said. “Because, okay,reasons.” He raised his fork to point. “I want you along—this will be much more fun together, and I figured you wouldn’t want to spend the winter surrounded by small-town homophobes. Or biphobes.”

And that, right there, was Kojo in a nutshell—oddly considerate, even as he bulldozered right over any plans Eric might have had. Since nothing useful came to mind, Eric waved for Kojo to continue.

“Narrow-minded wouldn’t be fun for me either, so, you know, good test.” Kojo paused for a bite. “Secondly, I thought it might make them more likely to agree to you coming along. Turns out they were looking for some extra help anyway.”

“So…” Eric sat back, the wooden kitchen chair creaking with the motion. “Let me get this straight.”

“Not your area of competence, is it?” Kojo tossed him a grin, and despite himself, Eric found his own lips turning up at the corners. It was an apt illustration of their friendship—Kojo pushing and prodding until Eric followed him down whatever side road Kojo had picked for them, destination chaos. Most of the time, Eric ended up having fun.

Switzerland, though?

“Let me get this straight,” Eric repeated. “You implied we were dating to rule out rampant prejudice and so they would take me on.”

“Correct.” Kojo sounded proud. “Adrian—the son—seemed pretty cool with it, by the way. Don’t think he’s much older than us, and he mentioned that he did his studies in Berlin. Could even be batting for your team.”

“Which is rather irrelevant since he thinks we’re boyfriends. Also, dating the bosses’ son is never a good idea, and given my track record, it would end in certain disaster. So, no.”

Kojo started smiling like the cat who’d got not only the cream, but the entire dairy farm. And—right. If Eric’s intention had been to discourage Kojo’s notion that they’d make the trip together, he’d done a poor job of it.

“Did I mention”—Kojo seemed to savour each syllable—“thatthere’s a grand piano in the dining room? And that you’re welcome to it at any time other than dinner?”

Switzerland.

“Oh, fine.” With a sigh, Eric picked up his coffee, the cup warm against his palms. “Show me the pictures.”

“Fuckyeah!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you will.” Kojo sounded smug. Empirical evidence suggested his confidence was justified because where Kojo led, Eric followed.

“Show me,” Eric repeated, and if he felt the tiniest wiggle of excitement? Well, Kojo might have a point about how winters in London were hardly uplifting.

Maybe a change didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

2

The road seemed to narrow more with each twist and turn up the valley. Every time the bus opened its doors, a shock of freezing air wafted over the seats. As mountains towered in timeless glory, green fields made room for white slopes, snow creeping closer to the asphalt the higher they got.

And God, Eric loved it.

The wistful honking of the horn before the bus rounded a blind corner. How calmly local cars backed up to make way while tourists got rattled, hectic in their attempts to pull over so the bus could pass. Twice, the bus driver got out to help by directing them to a safe spot, guttural Swiss German words at odds with the warm, collaborative way everyone interacted.

Halfway up to the hotel, the bus got abruptly emptier when a bunch of Indian tourists exited at a waterfall where Sherlock Holmes had found his fictional, if temporary, death.

“Diverse crowd,” Kojo commented once they were moving again, and Eric glanced around to find that Kojo was the only Black passenger. A handful of people might have a Turkish or Italian background, but other than that, the trend was White and middle-aged.

“You wanted a break from London,” Eric told Kojo. “Don’t think the Swiss countryside is particularly known for its diversity.”

---