Page 56 of Just for Me
He stopped. George kept going, tripped over his size 14 feet, tried to turn around with middling success, and asked, “What?”
Luke hadn’t had a drink tonight. Nothing but fizzy water with lime. But he felt legless himself, like his head and body weren’t working together.
Hayden was asleep in one of the big chairs in the lobby. Not looking perfect for once. His shirt was rumpled, and so was his hair.
Luke couldn’t process it. He couldn’t work it out. He’d texted with him … when? Thirty-six hours ago? He told Freddie, “Get George up to his room.”
“Not sure I can, mate,” Freddie said. “Not sure I remember which ismyroom.”
“Five twenty-four,” Luke said. “George is 513. Here.” He grabbed a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote the numbers on the back of Freddie’s hand.
Freddie blinked at them. “I don’t— You can’t—”
Freddie was twenty-three, George wasn’t even that old, and Luke was the skipper. This was his responsibility.
He didn’t care. He pushed the button for the lift, shoved George inside, pressed the button for 5, and stepped out again, telling Freddie, “Between the two of you, you should be able to read a room number.”
The doors closed on Freddie’s astonished face.
23
STAND YOUR GROUND
Why wasHayden’s bedroom so noisy? And so bright? He needed to get up, turn out the lights, and turn off the telly, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He’d just …
“Hayden.” Oh. There was somebody here. Also, he was cold. He grabbed for the duvet to pull it up, but couldn’t find it.
“Hayden.”
His eyelids struggled to open and finally made it. When they did, he blinked. This didn’t make sense. It was bright, and loud, and somebody’s impossibly broad body was in front of him, blocking the view.
Somebody wearing an elegant beige-and-brown wool scarf with a geometric pattern. A Fendi scarf.
He woke up.
* * *
Luke had been so tired,his legs had felt encased in concrete. Now, he couldn’t feel them at all. He knew he was smiling, even though he couldn’t feel his face, either, and he was reaching down for Hayden, pulling him to his feet.
He was aware that a few of the boys were straggling out of the bar. The part of his brain that had been in charge for thirty-three years tried to say,Let go of him fast. Why are you touching him? You’re saying hello to a mate, that’s all. Stand back.
His body wasn’t listening, because Hayden was blinking, then saying, “I realize this is unexpected. Should have asked if you wanted me here, probably. Oh, well, I didn’t. Apparently, I’m impulsive. Or desperate, though I’m trying not to go with that. I just—”
Luke kissed him. His arms around Hayden like they’d never let go, and Hayden’s around him like this was what he’d hoped for and hadn’t dared to think was possible.
Or maybe that was Luke.
The voice came from behind him. English, and slightly drunk. “Oh, shit.” And another one. “That’s never the Skip. What the hell?”
He didn’t pay any attention, because he couldn’t care. He was laughing, then kissing Hayden again, because he was everything he’d wanted to see for two months now. He was the morning light coming through the window and the swallows returning in the spring. He was hope, he was joy, and he was holding Luke like he needed him just as much.
“Let’s go,” Luke said. “My room.”
“I have a … suite,” Hayden said, still blinking, still so good-looking, he made Luke’s hands feel clumsy. “I had to get a suite. They wouldn’t let me sit here otherwise.”
“I have to be on the bus at seven,” Luke said. “My room.”
Three of the boys were waiting for the lift. Luke was holding Hayden’s hand, and he didn’t drop it. He said, “My partner. Hayden Allen. Came over to surprise me.” No choice anymore, and still, the huge black moth that was his secret flapped its leathery wings in alarm.
