Page 60 of The Fete of Summer

With her assistance, he discovered a reasonably quiet cafe on a mezzanine level, one overlooking the external airport complex. Even though he had no idea which runway Jaymes’ plane would take off from, he installed himself at a small table by the window and ordered a toasted sandwich and a pot of tea, determined to make them both last.

When his order arrived, he sat back in his chair, sipped his drink and thought back on the incredible year. So much had happened. Getting photographed naked for a team calendar, reconnecting with Cliff, his childhood sweetheart and now a famous film and television star, and finally finding out he had a cousin on the other side of the world.

But the best part had been meeting Jaymes, the catalyst for this new, improved version of Nathan Fresher. Jaymes had somehow unlocked something in Nate and made him feel wanted, even when they weren’t together. Last night they’d spent the whole evening making love, each of them taking turns to memorise the other’s body, to brand each curve, each muscle, each scar and freckle into memory for the lonely nights to come. Instead of being melancholy at missing Jaymes, Nathan recognised he had someone who would always be there for him, someone not far from his thoughts, someone whose mere existence could make him smile even when he was working thousands of miles away.

Interrupting his thoughts, Nathan’s phone beeped with a message.

Jay: About to close the doors. Miss me yet?

Nathan snorted aloud. Jaymes’ telepathy seemed to be working on overdrive today.

Nate: What do you think? Of course I do. Safe trip, Jay.

Jay: Gonna miss you too. But I’ll be home before you know it.

Nate: I’m already crossing off the days.

Jay: Just got told to turn off my phone. Love you, baby. Will txt when I get to KK.

Nate: Love you too. Come back to me soon.

Nathan fixed his gaze outside the airport window. Eventually, he picked out the distinctive logo on the tail of a plane, one that had to be Jaymes’ flight. Hiking in a deep breath, he heard the muffled sound of engines roar and watched as the implausibly large aircraft trundled slowly down the runway, nose tilting up, before gliding almost in slow motion into the air. Moments later, the plane had breached low-hanging clouds and disappeared into the daytime sky.

Nathan sat there, his gaze frozen to the spot in the clouds, the vanishing point, waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’d expected a massive wave of abandonment to overwhelm him or a bolt of lightning to illuminate the sky and strike the tarmac, just—something. But nothing came. And why should it? Just like someone going to work in the morning, Jaymes would be returning home. Maybe not today, but he would be coming back to him. At the thought, Nathan felt the comfort of certitude. Leaning back, he inhaled a deep breath and held on. But his mind had not quietened. Jaymes’ voice sounded in his head, telling him to stand up, get moving, take control and get busy. The voice warmed him, the effect empowering and invigorating him until he slowly exhaled.

After paying up and texting Clifton’s driver, he noticed a spring in his step on his way to the car park. Tomorrow he would rally his teammates and they would play their best game of the season. He would also ensure a full turnout on Tuesday, not just for the players but also for their families and friends. Tuesday would be a knockout.

Outside in the car park, the air felt fresh on his skin, and despite the distinctive and all-pervading taint of aviation fuel, Nathan strode through the rows of parked vehicles to the waiting Lexus. As he approached, the driver lowered the automatic front window and nodded once before opening the sliding back door. Smiling to himself at the opulence, Nathan almost missed the pair of tracksuit-wearing legs inside the back, sitting on the far side. When the door of the car had fully opened, the handsomely grinning face leant into view.

Clifton.

“Thought you could use a friendly face right now,” came his familiar voice. “Can my old friend Nate come out to play?”

“What are you doing here, Cliff?” asked Nathan.

“I told you. Raul had an appointment, an early flight to Lausanne, to meet the Winter Olympics Committee. He had transport already arranged, and we checked into the VIP lounge here this morning. After he left I waited around for the driver to call and tell me you’d arrived. I need to attend a reception tonight, but I have the afternoon free and my grandparents’ empty house. Just like old times. Except with a hot tub, champers and recreational confectionery left behind after my recent dinner party, if that's your thing.”

Maybe something in Nathan’s expression alerted him, or Clifton sensed he’d overstated his case, but his usual confidence deflated.

“Or we could just chat.”

Nathan stared down at Clifton, mulling over his words. He had a decision to make. After a moment, he stepped forward.

“Budge over. You’re right. A chat is long overdue. And I need to give you a few home truths.”

Clifton looked momentarily startled before shuffling over. Nathan climbed into the back seat, with Clifton watching nervously as Nathan buckled up.

“Why do I suddenly feel I’m not going to like this?” asked Clifton as the door slid closed. “Where to?”

“Home. My home. Drop me off there, please.”

Once they had reached the multi-laned M25 motorway, the driver navigated them into the fast lane and they cruised smoothly past fields and green verges.

“Let me ask you this, Cliff. If you had stayed in Crumbington and we’d grown into a couple, how long would we have lasted? How long would it have been before you got itchy feet? You’re ambitious. You always have been. Maybe your father saw that in you and didn’t want me holding you back. And you have Raul now who is equally popular, motivated and beautiful and clearly dotes on you. Any other person on this planet would be counting their lucky stars to have found someone that wonderful. He’s honest and faithful, traits he and I have in common.”

Clifton’s body language had changed. Besides the flush of his cheeks, he had a raised jut to his chin and a pout on his lips as he stared out of the window, watching the world flash past. Nathan guessed that people rarely spurned Clifton’s advances.

“Do you have any idea how often I’m propositioned?” asked Clifton.

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