Page 26 of Cosy & Chill
New Beginning
The sun had set and the stores along the High Street were closing when Finn checked the van for anything they’d forgotten to unload. They hadn’t stopped since Mr Tienfield had handed them the keys to the house, and Finn took a moment to stand outside his new front door and take in the view.
Streetlights bloomed along the length of the High Street, adding to the glow from the shop windows, the traffic lights, and the narrow, sweeping beams from passing cars. The pubs were already doing brisk business, and smartly dressed couples, huddled under umbrellas, headed to the three restaurants whose entrances he could see.
Finn was so hungry, his stomach growled at him. The drizzle that had started an hour earlier had soaked his T-shirt, jeans and jumper. He ached from lifting boxes and running up and down stairs all afternoon. None of that really mattered. Happiness, excitement, and relief combined to keep him warm and content, and as soon as he’d watched his fill and reminded himself that this was real, he would close the door on the outside world.
“Are you planning to stand in the rain until you grow roots? You’ll be blocking the way into the store if you do.”
Finn turned and found Leo coming towards him, changed into dry clothes, and wearing a jacket against the rain.
“Why don’t you throw the pizza in the oven, while I go and drop off the van,” Leo proposed. “I’m about to pass out from hunger.”
“Seconded. Two energy bars don’t make much of a lunch. On with you. I’ll get dinner started.” He flushed at how domestic he sounded, but the smile wouldn’t leave his face. He watched Leo drive off, then trooped down the alley to change and see about dinner.
Finn hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that he didn’t cook. Back at his parents’ home, he’d stayed out of the kitchen as much as he could to avoid bumping into his father. Since his parents treated him like a lodger who was supposed to fend for himself, Finn had been living on bread and cheese, apples and bananas, and takeaway food he could pick up on his way through town.
Warming a pizza was not beyond his skillset, even if the oven was newer than the rest of the furnishings. Finn had no trouble turning it on and the raft of programs only confused him until he found a pizza setting. The instructions on the back of the pizza cartons did the rest.
While he waited for the oven to heat, Finn decided to lay the dining table. Before that, though, he satisfied his curiosity and turned on the fire. It clicked twice before flames sprang up and danced over the fake coals, adding an extra layer of golden warmth to the room.
Finn stared into the flames, wondering what Leo would say when he saw it. Would he like it as much as Finn, or would he complain about wasting gas? They’d talked and talked over the last five days, but there was so much Finn didn’t know about Leo. More important things even than whether or not Leo had a liking for open fires.
Was it weird to share a house with a guy he hadn’t known five days ago?
Yes, yes it was.
It was also the most exciting thing that had happened to him since he’d finished his very first scarf, and Finn cherished the feeling of another new beginning.
The oven beeped to tell him it had reached temperature and Finn, suddenly aware of time passing, swung into action.
He placed the pizzas in the oven, then raced downstairs to find the table runner and place mats in the bag holding all his finished pieces. He’d made them a little while back and hadn’t had time to create a listing for them on his store.
They certainly came in handy now.
He laid the table with plates and cutlery, and even polished the wine glasses with one of their brand-new tea towels, tickled as he’d been in the store when they realised they both liked red wine. When all looked as it should, he reached for the black metal candle sticks he’d spied in a kitchen cupboard and set them in the centre of the table.
Their living room could have doubled as a scene for a romantic movie—and Finn didn’t care. It was the first night of their new adventure. That called for a celebration.
The smell of tomatoes and garlic filled the air, and Finn’s stomach growled in protest when he opened the oven door, not to take out the pizza, but to place the garlic bread on the lowest shelf to warm.
He was close to tearing off a chunk to munch on when he heard the back door open. Leo bounded up the stairs, red-cheeked, grinning, and clutching a bottle of champagne, a cake box, and a flowering plant.
“Housewarming gifts,” he said, setting the champagne on the kitchen island. “From my landlady.” Then he bowed and handed the plant pot to Finn. “Honey, I’m home,” he teased. “With apologies for making you wait.”
“I was tempted to eat without you.”
“You wound me.”
“If you go and sit down, I’ll actually feed you.” He extracted the garlic bread and the pizzas and pointed to the two bottles of shiraz. “Or you could open the wine?”
Leo found the corkscrew, and moments later they faced each other across the dining room table, two pizzas and a basket of garlic bread between them.
“Here’s to us,” Leo said, raising his glass. “To the adventures of Cosy & Chill.”
Finn touched his glass to Leo’s. He managed a sip before the pull of garlic bread and pizza grew too strong and they hit the food like two men who’d worked hard and hadn’t eaten for most of the day.
The pizza was almost gone when Finn finally thought of making conversation. “Why would your landlady give you champagne? Was she happy to see the back of you?”
