Page 22 of After Felix
He steps forward and cups my head between his hands. “A very spiky little egg,” he says, his voice very deep as he kisses my forehead with what seems like tenderness.
He steps back, and it’s impossible to sort out the mingled emotions in his expression. Or the ones in my chest. The combination of warmth and wariness is vaguely nauseating but sort of nice too.
“Did you want tea?” I ask. “It’s a bit shit waking up to that.”
His face shutters as he looks down at his watch. “Better not,” he says briskly. “As long as you’re alright, I’d better push off. It’s late.”
Maybe too late for me, I think a few minutes later, watching him lope off down the towpath, his long body limned with the light from the streetlamp.
I shake myself. “Business as usual,” I say out loud. “Get it together, Felix Jackson.
CHAPTER SIX
FELIX - THREE MONTHS LATER
My phone rings with the jaunty little tune I’ve allocated to Max. I hover my hand over it for a second and then quickly click to accept the call before he changes his mind and rings off.
“Is this a booty call?” I ask breezily.
There’s a startled silence, and then he gives his low, husky laugh. “Not this morning, sassy boy. I’ve barely had time for breakfast yet.”
I smile. “You oldies and your need for sleep.”
“That’s me,” he says wryly. “Just need to put my teeth back in, and I’ll be up to scratch.”
“Lovely as this chat is, is there a purpose for it? I’m a busy and very important man.”
“Oh, Felix, is that your office voice?” he says breathily. “I’m hard already. Quick, tell me something about ink cartridges and stationery.”
“We’re out of paperclips and sticky notes,” I say in a voice of grave urgency. My smile widens at the sound of his laughter.
When he quietens, he says, “Wow, that hit the spot. You could advertise this as a sex line.”
“Lovely as that sounds, I don't think my boss would be too thrilled, and the paperclip speech might be a bit of a niche market.”
“They’re missing out.” There’s a slight pause. “I rang to see if you fancy grabbing lunch together?”
“Really?” I wince at the astonishment in my voice. And something worse—hope.
Another pause and then he says quickly, “I’m out your way this morning for a meeting, so it was just a thought. Doesn’t matter if?—”
“No,” I interrupt quickly. “No, that sounds… nice.”
“Well, okay then,” he says rather awkwardly. “I’ll ring you when I’m in Seven Dials, and you can give me directions.”
After agreeing, I click End and set my phone down on the desk as carefully as if it were an unexploded bomb. In a way, it is, or at least it has the power to totally blow up my world.
This isn’t the first time that Max has rung me, but it’s the first time he’s wanted to meet me for lunch when it’s obvious that sex won’t be on the menu. We’ve been fucking each other for over three months now, and he’s made no move to change our status.
He doesn’t call unless it’s to arrange sex. We’ll meet and fuck, mainly in different hotel rooms around the city but occasionally on the boat. I know he has a house in the Cotswolds where he lives, but that’s the extent of my knowledge, as he never talks about himself. He’s made no declarations of exclusivity, and I’ve very carefully avoided asking questions about who he’s with when he’s not with me. I presume there are others. He’s too highly sexed to go without.
However, over the last couple of weeks, that seems to have changed a little. He’s started to ring in between fucks, and each time he’s stayed on the phone a little bit longer. We talk about politics, world affairs, and tell each other funny stories. Sometimes when he rings, his voice will be flat, and I’ll detect a sadness there. On those occasions, I’ve worked extra hard to be funny and make him laugh, so when he rings off, he’ll be lighter.
And therein lies the problem. I shouldn’t care about his state of mind. I shouldn’t be working to make him laugh. He might be footloose and free and fucking everyone around, but… I’m not. I haven’t slept with anyone else since I started this with Max. I haven’t wanted to, and that’s a problem because it’s never happened before. I’d fallen into a strings-free fuck arrangement and then knitted my own ties without consulting my partner.
It likely started when he stuck up for me against my dad. That phantom warmth I felt that night has grown. I enjoyed his company from the beginning, but now I think about him all the time and miss him when I don’t see him for a few days.
I sigh heavily and rub my eyes.
