Page 28 of Sleep

“Ha, no.” I grinned. “In this one, we all live happily ever after.”

12. Mabel

“Okay, here goes.” I put my cup down on the floor. What was it with this place? Not a basic piece of furniture in sight—like a handy small occasional table where one could place a discarded cup.

Well, who was I to talk? My now-destroyed former abode had contained a massive amount of storage boxes, which I had effectively used as tables, chairs, footrests, but no functional furniture. I dreamed of a home where I could brandish my imaginary interior design talents, but such things went hand in hand with spare money—something I didn’t currently possess. Whinge, whinge, whinge. I was getting tired of myself and my whingeing but was too raw to start to pull myself together.

I was in a stranger’s penthouse. Well, in Jonny Templar’s penthouse. Yes, I may have read up on him and googled and done all the basic homework I did on most of our regular guests, prepared myself so I could pull up suitable topics of conversation and gauge the level of service required. But that didn’t mean I was comfortable with his rescue efforts and having to endure conversation over coffee on his snazzy sofa.

I really liked this sofa.

Fuck. Now he was staring at me, expecting me to spill all my worldly secrets into his lap. Which, of course, I would. I was me, and there was no way I wouldn’t indulge him because I talked far too much with anyone who would listen. No wonder I’d ended up here, humiliated to the bloody bones.

“Born to parents who thought they would be childless. Much loved. Had the best upbringing.” I counted off the facts on my fingers like I was giving a presentation. “Mum and Dad met at college on an advanced tailoring course. They ended up opening a wedding dress shop, a small high-street outfit where they made gowns and altered off-the-rack creations to fit. Small sideline in accessories. Deals with local florists.” I paused, the memories flooding into my mind. Smiled. “They did really, really well for a while. I used to spend every afternoon and weekend there, helping out and learning things. I loved it. I know people grow up resenting things like that, but that shop was my haven, you know? It was full of kind people and frills and sparkles and no, before you ask…” I looked at him pointedly. “It didn’t make me gay.”

“Who is full of prejudice here? Not me. I went to boarding school.”

“And came out a virgin,” I reminded him.

He was still blushing at that, but I hadn’t said it to be malicious. He may have been the guy with the multimillion-grossing construction business, but I was a master wall builder. I could also break them down in a millisecond.

“I have many superpowers,” I whispered.

“Indeed,” he said. “You’re just like my mother, thrilling the listener. Theatrical.”

“Hence you and me will never be a thing. Good grief. Listen. First rule of first dates: do not mention your mother. In fact, don’t ever tell a date that they remind you of your mother.”

He should have died of shame, being called out like that. Instead, Jonny Templar relaxed further into the sofa.

“Are you saying this is a date? I believe we already established where those professional boundaries lie. This is not a date. Go on.”

“Where was I?”

“Wedding shop. And that you’re gay?”

Fancy him picking up on that one.

“I’m gay. Always was, always will be. Queer. Bent. Whatever you want to call it. And I always hoped I’d grow up in a world where I didn’t have to explain myself to everyone and everything, but unfortunately, being me is not something people understand.”

“You must get a lot of questions.”

Here we went.

“Do you want to ask them, or shall I just vomit out all the answers?”

Please. Bitchy? Me? But he waved his hand like he was waiting for me to do just that.

“I’m not trans. I have no desire to alter my body in any shape or form. I just like how I feel. Sometimes I feel different from other times. I float aimlessly between genders, and that is who I am. Sometimes I have a need to present myself in one way, other days I wake up and I crave a suit and tie, slicked-back hair, a sterner way of holding myself. Then halfway through the day, the tie comes off, and I find myself wearing lipstick with a smile on my face. I can’t explain it, but it’s something people never quite understand.”

“People like firm boxes. Easy-to-understand explanations.”

I nodded. That was a good response, like he actually understood. What did I know?

“True.” I swallowed. I’d been ready to defend something and was thrown by not needing to. Surprising. “I’m me, but with that comes the fact that I’m not quite the ideal partner for anyone. I’ve never had any desire to have a girlfriend. It’s always been about men.”

“And what is your type?”

I liked the honest direction this conversation was going in. Like Jonny Templar had a genuine desire to get to know me.

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