Page 27 of Vine

“He’s cute,” Florian observed. “Do you… erm… know him?”

They traded glances, which I’d learned stood for anxiety, and sighed. People forever watching out for you not to fuck up was nice, but also quite irritating.

“Of course I know him. He’s the one that banged his head. He bought me a nice present to say thank you.”

And he doesn’t pull away when I kiss him.I kept the kissing to myself, in case Nico suspected it was more than a simpleau revoir. As my brother gave me a long hard stare, I counted my fingers with my thumbs and made my face a blank space. I must have passed the test.

“I’m sure he likes you,” said Florian warmly, because he wasn’t such a suspicious bugger. “What’s not to like?”

I deduced that was one of those questions not requiring a proper response entailing a list of my faults. “I showed him my whittling jack,” I said instead.

“I bet you did.” My brother smirked, not sure why, so I ignored him.

“He comes to visit my house and hangs around for a while.”And falls asleep.

“Of course he hangs around,” said Florian. “You know so much interesting stuff. I bet he welcomes the change. They mustget bored at the vineyard day after day waiting for the vines to grow. What’s his job in the television company?”

I didn’t know. Caspian and I hadn’t got that far, mostly because my words still dried up around him. And anyway, they were missing the point. Yes, he hung around, and yes, he admired my whittling and my shells and my pots. But what did it all mean? Anything or nothing? If she were here, Éti would have understood what I was driving at straight away. Seemed like I was going to have to spell it out to these two cretins. With all the thoughts buzzing in my ears, my skin itched around my collar. The barstool felt too small.

“How do I know he’s gay,” I blurted.

Sometimes, when I was nervous, questions came out wrong. Flat-sounding, like they weren’t questions at all. Fortunately, Nico and Florian were used to it.

“Don’t look at me,” said Nico, turning to Florian. “Isn’t there some secret sign you all have, Flor, to help you recognise each other?”

Draining the last few mouthfuls of his beer, Florian shook his head at my idiot brother, then gracefully vacated his stool. “Stay right where you are, mon ami. I’ll be back. An urgent trip to the little boys' room beckons.”

He retreated. Still smiling, Nico dropped his head to his phone and started scrolling through it. As if I wasn’t there.

“I asked you a question,” I said.

“I know.” Nico made a huff of amusement. “Florian knows too.”

So why did they fucking ignore me? I must have missed something. Mind you, watching Florian’s rear view as he sauntered away was no hardship, especially as his walk was extra sexy tonight. The toilets were in the direction of Caspian and his friend, so I got to peek at both beautiful men from around the edges of my hair.

An announcement on theboulesleague noticeboard caught Florian’s eye. As he reached it, a metre from Caspian’s table, he slowed to a stop and peered forward to read. Absently, he scratched his belly. He had a great belly, tanned and taut, and as his T-shirt rode up a little under his palm, I got a glimpse. It must have been a long announcement; Flor stood there awhile.

“I’m homosexual,” I informed my brother.

“Yeah?” Nico continued scrolling, unperturbed. Had he suddenly gone deaf? Maybe I said it in my head, not out loud. I do that sometimes; I frequently have whole conversations with myself.

“I said I’m homosexual.”

I spoke a little louder, but not too loud, because, frankly, it wasn’t the business of the barman and the butcher, nor the baker. Finally, Nico looked up at me and winked, as though I was still a child. “So you are.”

“And I asked how I could tell if Caspian was gay, and even though I didn’t get the question right, that must have been a clue. You must have known why I asked it.”

That was an exhaustingly long sentence.

“I did,” he agreed, and his lips curled up into a half smile. “You asked it because you are interested in him.”

“Yes. Because I’m a homosexual.”

Putting the phone down, he leaned into me, enough that I could smell the nice cologne Éti chose for him. She had tested it on me last time I watched her play soccer in Paris. A clean scent of aromatic woodsy notes interwoven with oakmoss, lavender, and other carefully selected ingredients. His mouth found my ear; his hand ruffled my hair. Still as if I was a child. “Hate to break it to you, Maxi, old boy, but that’s stale news. You’ve been ogling Flor since you were fourteen. Dad knows, Zoë knows, even Mum suspected.”

My heart clenched. “Did she. Did she mind.” My mother had died before I’d ascertained her beliefs regarding homosexuality.

Nico laughed and scrubbed his hand in my hair a second time. If he did it once more, I’d do it back. He was quite vain about his hair. “Why would she mind? She just wanted you to be happy. To find someone special enough to… um… appreciate your little foibles.”

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