Page 14 of Best Man
“Pah, that’s a silly detail.”
“Says everyone who’s ever ended up in a tribunal.”
He waves his hand cavalierly and leaves my room on a tide of misplaced righteousness and Miller Harris aftershave.
I stare down at my desk. I need to go and pick Jesse up. I think of his high-boned face, the neck-length shiny brown hair, and his warm brown eyes, and my mouth waters. I call up the image of his long, wide-shouldered body and swear at the tightening in my groin. Then I think of having him to myself for the next few days. All of those warm smiles and eager curiosity, the silly jokes and that easy manner of his. Despite all the shit going on in my private life, Jesse has always managed to cheer me up. Just seeing his face makes me smile.
I might speak about his butterfly tendencies, but he’s so much more than that. There’s something very steadfast about him. And something inherently very beautiful that has nothing to do with his looks. He has a way of commanding your attention, and I’ve always left his company feeling lighter in myself.
I’m well aware that I’ve always had a small crush on him, but I put that to the side one day when Patrick seized on the subject of Jesse. Apparently, I talked too much about him and Patrick objected. Ican still recall the argument that followed, and how, after that, I pushed my enjoyment of Jesse down into a hole inside me and turned the key.
It was easier all round for me to concentrate on his youth and put everything else aside. However, he isn’t a kid anymore. He’s a very handsome twenty-four-year-old. I shake my head. And I’m still twenty years older than him.
I wander over to the mirror and make myself take a long look at myself. In my head I itemise the crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes, the wrinkle appearing between my brows, and the flecks of grey that are starting to show in my hair. Then I make myself look down at my body and remember that I am practically middle-aged and things are not as tight as they were.
I remember Patrick sneering at me when we were arguing once, telling me how ridiculous I was with my crush on a boy. The words still manage to hurt me, and with all that in the forefront of my mind I let myself think of Jesse’s looks and body again, confident that I’ve come to my senses at last. My cock stirs despite all my efforts.I’m fucking screwed, I think dolefully.What have I done?
I’m no nearer an answer when I pull up outside his flat and honk the horn. I look around curiously. At one point this must have been a well-off area because the houses are beautifully proportioned, but then it must have fallen victim to the steady encroach of bedsit land, and here we are. Windows are dirty with sheets hung up at them rather than curtains. Rubbish blows idly round in the faint breeze and two dogs are fighting nearby over an upturned rubbish bin.
Movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Jesse coming out of the door of the block of flats. He’s dressed in faded jeans, a pale blue shirt, and blue and white seersucker striped Vans, and he’s wheeling a suitcase. He grins at me, and I can’t help the uptick of my lips. I’ve tried many times but it doesn’t work. There’s just something about him that makes me smile.
Then I notice the man following him carrying a suit bag and my smile falters slightly. He’s stunningly beautiful, and the laughing conversation they’re having and their body language displays a familiarity with each other. I’m so busy staring ahead and trying not toanalyse why my spirits have sunk that it takes Jesse three gos at calling my name through the window.
I lower it. “Shit, sorry. I was daydreaming.”
His brow quirks and he grins. It’s glorious at such a close range. “No problem. I just wondered for a second whether I was expected to run behind the car all the way to the Cotswolds.”
“I’m not discounting that option yet,” I say wryly, just to hear him laugh. He has a wonderful laugh. Rich and full and almost dirty.
I open the door and climb out, going round to the boot and opening it. “Stick your case in here,” I say briskly, watching as the other man ambles over. He’s dressed in old jeans and a navy T-shirt and he’s wearing flipflops, but he moves like he’s on the catwalk. I blink and Jesse laughs and nudges me.
“I know,” he whispers. “It happens everywhere.”
I turn to him. “I’m not looking at him like that,” I start to say, trying to explain that I’m not leering at his boyfriend. It would be impossible when all my senses still seem to be tuned to Jesse’s wavelength despite the all-round hopelessness of that silly yearning. Luckily, he saves me the humiliation.
“Charlie has this effect on everyone. Good job he’s oblivious.”
“Don’t you mind?”
He blinks. “Why would I mind?”
“Isn’t this your boyfriend?”
To my astonishment, he laughs loudly. “No, he’s my flatmate. He’s far too happy for me.” He looks sideways at me. “I like them older and surlier,” he says slowly and no less brutally effectively. I feel my cock stir under that clear brown gaze and leap into evasive manoeuvres.
“Hello.” I smile quickly at Charlie and ignore Jesse. “Do you want to give me that? I’ll hang it in the back of the car.”
He smiles and it’s seriously like an angel has descended. God knows how he goes about his normal life without his way being littered with smitten bodies. “Thank you. Bloody coat hanger was hurting my fingers.” He hands it over and reaches out to hug Jesse who’s still smiling curiously at me. “Have a good time,” he says happily to Jesse. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That actually doesn’t leave me with a very wide field. While thesaintly existence seems to suit you, I can’t say I’m gagging to live it with you,” Jesse says. “I’ll deal with things my own way, thank you.”
“Badly then,” the blond man says sadly, surprising a laugh out of me. He smiles at me. “Have a good few days,” he says cheerfully. “Try and keep this one in order.”
“I don’t think I have that level of power. I’m not exactly sure who does.” We smile at each other and I turn to find Jesse staring at me. For once there isn’t a trace of a smile on his face and it looks wrong somehow. He has a face that’s built to display his warmth and charm. I wonder if he’s having second thoughts.
“You still okay to go?” I ask hesitantly. His expression clears and I contain my sigh of relief when the smile appears again, poking at the corners of that wide mouth like the sun around a cloud.
“Of course,” he says. He hugs his flatmate. “You going to be okay?” he asks somewhat anxiously, and I watch them curiously.
