Page 8 of Charlie Sunshine
He shrugs. “Can’t two wonderful men–”
“Handsome men,” Aidan adds.
My dad winks at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me start again. Can’t twohandsome men pay a visit to their child without being cross-questioned about it?”
“Cross-questioned?” I enquire. “You’d never have got through torture if you think that was hard.”
“We brought a couple of boxes of your books over,” Aidan says, disappearing out of the door and returning with a box. “Now you’ve settled, you can have them.”
“Settled? I’m not snow.” I look at him helplessly as he carts in another box. “Where am I supposed to put them?”
My father looks around, and his brow wrinkles. “Where are your bookcases?” he says in a completely bewildered voice.
I shrug. “Misha doesn’t have any. He hates them and likes plain walls and minimal fuss.” We exchange looks that agree on the incomprehensible nature of that.
“Why?” my dad asks in a scandalised tone of voice, suggesting that I’ve just said that Misha prefers to boil small children.
I nod. “Thank you. It’s nice to have my opinion reinforced.”
“It’s just not natural,” my dad mutters.
Aidan chuckles. “Not everyone wants bookcases holding up their walls,” he says cheerfully.
My dad shakes his head. “You should watch your foul mouth,” he advises.
“What’s up?” comes a voice from behind us.
We turn and watch Misha coming towards us. He’s only wearing old jeans with a plain white T-shirt and a grey cardigan, but he still looks fresh and handsome. And sadly, not nearly naked enough. I force that thought very firmly away. I don’t know why the hell I’m thinking it anyway. He’s my friend—end of story. I’ve always admired his looks but have been able to ignore them, as they come attached to a penis that’s had more conquests than the Roman Empire. Besides, I actually have a boyfriend.
“We brought Charlie’s books around,” my dad says, holding his arms out for a hug. Misha wraps his arms around my dad, smiling happily. He’s always got on with him and looked to him for advice when his own dad died.
Misha steps back and hugs Aidan too, before looking at the boxes on the floor. “Is thatit?” he says dubiously.
Aidan laughs. “You know him too well. No, there’s another ten boxes at home.”
“They’ll have to stay there, then,” I say. “Where am I going to put them? They won’t fit in my room.”
“In here,” Misha says casually. “We’ll go out and buy some shelves this afternoon.”
“Inhere?” I gape at him.
“Why is your mouth open? Are you trying to catch flies?” he enquires.
I shut it with an audible snap. “No, it’s just that I’m sure you just said you’d buy shelves for my books.”
“I did.”
“Yes, that’s what confused me, Misha. Because the last flatmate you had, you moaned when he put a picture up on the lounge wall. Not shelves that contained twenty tons of books.”
He shrugs. “That was him. This is you. You’re a special case.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you mean that to sound like I’m a nut job?”
Misha laughs. “No, it was completely fortuitous.”
“Hmm,” I say dubiously.
“Charlie, you’ve only been here for forty-eight hours, and we already have a new sofa. Why would bookcases come as a surprise to me?”
