The Driver Read online

  “Thanks,” he took it and put it down by his feet. I stood awkwardly over him, and noticed that despite appearances he was still pretty wasted. He watched me with a funny expression on his face and then stood up.

  I took a step back, mostly to get away from what should have been a smell of vomit, but instead it was the heavenly scent of my body wash on his skin and a gentle hint of toothpaste. I watched him, silent for now, unsure what to say or how to act. His eyes were so dark I could see the city lights behind me reflected in them. He smiled lazily at me and then without any warning at all his hand wrapped round my waist and he kissed me.

  It felt like an hour before I pulled away, but it couldn’t have been more than five seconds. I stared at him, my mouth slack with shock. He didn’t move.

  “What –?”

  He kissed me again and this time his mouth was open, as was mine, and his tongue – irritatingly clean and fresh tasting - slid into my mouth. I put a hand on his shoulder to push him away but he pulled me to him and then he really kissed me. The kind of kiss that couldn’t just be thrown away at the end of a night when two people ran out of things to say to each other, his tongue explored mine, explored the roof of my mouth and he let out a soft and ridiculously pleasing moan. I finally wrenched myself away from one of the hottest kisses I could remember and backed away from him.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound upset or worried now, just content. “I always wondered what kissing a guy would be like.”

  I felt cold rush through me. Even before he finished the sentence I was putting more distance between us.

  “Well, now you know.” I was amazed at how calm I sounded. “I’ll be up there.” I indicated the slightly raised section of the loft space where my bed was. “If you need me, call.”

  “For anything?” I stopped mid-turn. I looked back at him, that cocky smile on his face about as tempting as the devil himself.

  “For vomit patrol. Get some sleep.”

  I walked into my room, which was no more than three translucent screens and a large bed, and lay down, aware that he wasn’t even separated from me by a door, and I had a hard-on that could have hammered in nails. I couldn’t even relieve myself because the sound proofing was in the minus numbers. I would just have to endure it. I heard the soft movements in the living room as he lay under the covers and I did the same. I was drifting off to sleep with naked women prancing in front of my eyes when I heard him say quietly, as though he wasn’t sure if I would hear him:

  “Good night, Mr Taylor.”

  I felt my cock throb against the bed and I covered my head with a pillow. God, please let him have forgotten this tomorrow. I really needed to keep my job and not fuck my boss’s son.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I woke up and wondered where I was. I remembered the night before almost instantly but it took me a while to realise that Cal must still be in my flat and I actually had to go to fucking work. From the lack of texts and missed calls on my phone I could only assume the student’s solo stint in the café had gone well and Martin wouldn’t need me, thank God, because I was so tired I felt like my limbs were made of lead.

  I lay quietly for a few minutes listening carefully for any signs of life. I couldn’t hear anything from the living room and eventually dragged myself out of bed to make some tea. I loved jasmine tea in the mornings, while standing on my beautiful balcony, and I had missed that opportunity the day before due to Cal’s early rising. I cursed myself when I remembered the reason he had been up early. He hadn’t mentioned funeral arrangements or even a date for it. I wasn’t going to broach the subject if I didn’t have to.

  And then I remembered his tongue.

  I swallowed, feeling my cock twitch. A long, warm tongue gently massaging mine.

  I always wondered what kissing a guy would be like.

  I looked down at my traitorous dick and turned on the coffee machine, needing something stronger to break through the haze. That’s all it had been. Not even a kiss, just an experiment with some stupid twenty-four year old straight boy having a bit of fun at my expense.

  I walked out of the kitchen and looked over at the sofa. It was empty and the sheets were neatly folded in a pile. I scratched my belly, wondering if I should be concerned, and listening for the shower, but I couldn’t hear anything. Maybe he’d gone home with his tail between his legs, or he’d gone out to get me breakfast. I really hoped he’d gone out to get me breakfast.

  And then I heard a soft sound from behind me. I turned, expecting to see him standing in my kitchen bleary eyed and slightly green around the edges but instead I just saw the curtain to my balcony moving. For a split second, a horrible nauseating moment of panic, I thought he might have jumped. Then I reorganised my thoughts and reminded myself it was Cal, and he wouldn’t do something so cliché as jumping off a building.

  I padded over to the sliding doors and drank in the view for the hundredth time before walking outside. And then I stopped. Cal was sitting in one of the reclining chairs, his hair in soft curls and rumpled from sleep. He was relaxed, not trying to impress, not in his usual suit and tie looking stiff and eager to get the night’s entertainment started. He was just there, alone with his thoughts, and I was going to back away but he turned and saw me. I felt strangely happy that his expression of relaxation didn’t change much when our eyes met. He didn’t seem phased by my presence; he just rubbed his hair, as though apologising for the state of it and indicated a pot of tea and two cups.

  “It might be cold.”

  I walked over to him, feeling the chill air invade my t-shirt and getting rid of the last of my erection. Cal was wearing my dressing gown and I felt a flash of resentment that it would probably smell like him for days. I sat next to him, picking up the tea and then stopped, catching the scent. It was jasmine tea. I thought quickly through the contents of my cupboards. Had he known that I liked it? Had I mentioned something in passing that he had weirdly remembered or were these the only teabags I had?

  “I thought it was Earl Grey.” He said with a half-smile and I took a sip and nodded.

  “I don’t have any Earl Grey tea because it tastes like armpit.”

  He didn’t laugh, strangely pensive in the early morning light. I was thinking back to the kiss again and hoping he wouldn’t bring it up when he looked at me and for the first time he looked like a grown man, really trying to connect with someone.

  “He’s going to put her on the mantelpiece.” I watched him quizzically and when he didn’t elaborate I put down my tea.

  “He’s going to what?”

  “My father. He’ll put my grandmother on the mantelpiece, next to my Dad’s father and she’ll sit there in that stuffy old house forever with a man she hated and she’ll never be free.”

  The wind rustled through his hair and I wondered how I could ever have hated him as much as I did before. Two days ago if you’d told me I would be sitting on my balcony sipping tea with Cal Emerson and watching the sun rise I would have laughed in your face. Now? I was just happy he trusted me enough to be with him.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  He looked up, his eyes a little startled and then he looked away, frowning.

  “Nothing. Just like I do with everything else. I’m going to sit and watch him do whatever the hell he pleases because I’m good at that, and it’s what he expects.”

  I looked out at the view, tasting something bitter in my throat.

  “I’m sorry I kissed you.” His voice was only a murmur. “Dick move.”

  He finished his tea, got up and walked back into my flat before I could say a single word. I’ve never been very good at leaving things unsaid, however, so I followed him inside. I don’t think he was expecting that because he turned, just inside the doorway, looking a little scared.

  “Don’t do it again.” I watched the expressions bloom over his face. The first emotion was anger and then what might have been disappointment, but I was doing the right thing. I didn’t need to get in
volved with Cal. Not when he was grieving. Not when he was confused and straight. Not ever. I had my own heart to take care of and what I really needed was a nice twink to plough over the weekend and then I’d get him out of my system.

  He shifted his weight and scratched the top part of his thigh. The dressing gown rode up and I kept my eyes squarely on his face, trying my best to look nonchalant.

  “Is it ok if I shower? I’m sorry about your toothbrush.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Are we okay?” He looked really worried and I didn’t have the heart to show him how angry I still was at him for sticking his tongue down my throat.

  “Yeah. We’re okay, kid. Go shower, I’m going for a run.”

  He disappeared and I took a deep, deep breath.

  Five minutes later I was pounding down the street behind my flat, looking up at the stark white building that made up the rest of the block and feeling the burn in my chest. I was getting sloppy and I was running too fast for my fitness level, but I just needed to feel something other than Cal for a few minutes.

  All I could think about was him, and it was driving me crazy. It wasn’t because I had any kind of feelings for him, it was just because I hadn’t seen another guy in a few days and I had too many condoms in my bedside table that hadn’t been opened. That was it. I needed to fuck someone. I found myself looking around the park as I ran through it, past the intricate iron railings by the river, and through a blanket of fallen leaves that were already turning to mulch with the morning dew.

  There was a man running in front of me with purple shorts on. I focused on his arse and kept running, watching the rise and fall of his flesh, his thighs, the muscles in his calves. I turned a corner on my usual route and saw a younger guy, probably late twenties with bright red hair and a red and white t-shirt running toward me. Our eyes connected briefly but there was no interest on his side, and he almost looked nervous. I realised I had been staring at him solidly all the way before we passed each other. What was wrong with me?

  I finally made it to a wide corner in the park where it opened out onto a little pond that’s always surrounded by swans and geese and pigeons roosting. I bent over breathing hard, and annoyed that I hadn’t done more exercise recently. My phone started to vibrate and I fished it out of my shorts surprised but also relieved at who it was.

  “Hi Gerry, what are you doing up?”

  “I’m painting, shithead.” I laughed, Gerry was in the midst of renovating a disaster of a house he and his boyfriend had bought and seemed to moan about it at every given opportunity. “I fucking love interior design, didn’t I tell you? I’m calling to invite you out with us tonight.”

  It was music to my ears. I watched the world pass me by for a moment before replying, just to make him sweat a bit.

  “Don’t set me up with anyone.”

  There was a pause and I groaned inwardly. Gerry and his partner, Tom, were good to go out with because they attracted attention and usually helped me get laid, but Tom’s pet project was to set me up with every lithe young body that crossed his path and I hated it.

  “Okay, but only if you promise you won’t bail early like you always do.”

  I sighed. “I promise. But I need to be at the café, so I can’t stay out until two or anything.”

  “Honey we are not eighteen any more, we don’t need 2 a.m. but last time you left at ten!”

  “Yeah, yeah, fine. I get the point. What time?”

  “Really? You’re really coming? I’m sorry I’m so awful at keeping in touch. I do want to see you. It’s not just because I want your sexy arse on the dancefloor, okay?” I laughed and promised again that I would be there and again that I wouldn’t leave early. I had the following day off and I knew that Cal would be with his Dad. Nobody did false grief like the Emerson’s. An annoying shred of guilt nagged at me that Cal needed me, but he had spent the entire night before partying himself to death and I had given him my sofa and some of my jasmine tea. That was enough for anyone.

  When I got back to the flat Cal was dressed in his suit trousers from the night before, which I knew had to have vomit still clinging to them, and my t-shirt. He was sitting in my kitchen looking awkward. He stood up as I came in and put on his jacket.

  “You have the day off tomorrow, right?” He grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket. “I need to go to see my Dad. I ordered a taxi.”

  I stared at him, irrationally and ridiculously hurt. “Don’t you want me to drive you?”

  He finally looked at me, and I saw his eyes skitter downwards and over my stomach, which I knew was plastered in sweaty fabric at that moment. He cleared his throat, licked his fucking lips and looked away.

  “I don’t need you to drive me.”

  “Cal, since when have you ever got a taxi anywhere?”

  “It’s cool. I’m gonna head. Thanks for letting me sleep on your sofa; you can’t have had much sleep. Have the day to yourself.”

  He shifted around and away from me making sure he had all his things and then walked to the front door, giving me an almost insultingly wide birth. I took hold of his arm and he flinched. I let go, quickly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He huffed in exasperation, perhaps at me, perhaps at himself.

  “I just feel weird about last night, you know? Sorry for being a dick, but you should have pushed me off, man. You don’t need to worry about it happening again, seriously. It’s gross. Why would anyone do that more than once?” He frowned. “I totally threw up. Why didn’t you shove me off you?”

  He pushed past me, grappling with the door handle and wrenching it open. I stood motionless watching his retreating back down the hall as it closed.

  It took me a full minute to move. I went automatically to the shower, pulling off my running gear and putting the water on full and right at the top temperature. I didn’t know what was going on or why he was so pissed, but what really bothered me was my reaction to it. I let the water pour down my back and winced as it burned the skin of my shoulders. I shut it off and put the cold on full, hissing at the change and gasping as the freezing water cascaded over my head.

  Whatever had angered him was a good thing. If it was the kiss, then that could only be a positive outcome. I had told him not to do it again. I had meant it. Now he was angry and he would avoid me, or fire me, or let me know that he was going to go and fuck everything that moved. That was how things should be.

  This was a good thing. I had the day to myself. I was free of him for a few hours, I was getting some much needed sleep and then I was getting laid.

  Good.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Manga’s was an amazing place. I had loved it the second Gerry and I walked in over ten years before when I had first moved to the city, and now it was even better. The new owners had re-vamped the floor so that there were lights underfoot, and despite it being horribly cheesy it worked with the clientele, getting professionals, gay and straight, as well as students pouring through the doors. I didn’t know the owners but Gerry did and we always got in and a lot of the time the staff gave us free drinks.

  We pushed our way through the crowd – it was packed, and the beat of the music was throbbing through my thighs. I was so in the mood for it I could practically taste the sex in the air. Gerry turned to me at the bar and grinned.

  “You look great.”

  I smiled, self-conscious as always at a compliment from him. He was huge and muscled; nothing like my build, and his boyfriend Tom was the same. They were a couple of the biggest softies I had ever met, but if they entered a room they would get stares from all sides. I always felt inferior in his presence. He shook his head, leaning into me and putting a hand gently on my lower back. “You have no idea, it’s adorable.” And then he was turning to the barman and I was scanning the room.

  I found myself lingering on people on the dance floor. It was a heap of writhing beautiful bodies, some young some old, some straight some gay. The music was eclectic but had mom
ents of great 80s and 90s mixed in. I didn’t recognise the current song but I followed the arms and the legs of the teenagers in the crowd and realised, with a moment of depressing clarity that it was in the charts and I had never heard it before.

  I watched one boy at the edge of the dancefloor. He was young, small and thin, with dark, longer than average hair. He was moving with the music and his hips were swaying rhythmically. Gerry turned round with my drink and a wink, and we both took a sip. I suppressed the urge to cough and gave him a weary look that made him laugh. He’d ordered me a triple vodka.

  I turned back and watched the kid again. He had a great body, not muscled, but that wasn’t my thing usually. I found images of Cal dancing in front of my eyes and I shook my head – irritated. Tonight was about me. Not about some rich kid and his fucked up family.

  I turned back to Gerry who pointed to the other end of the bar where I saw Tom had just arrived. I grinned and waved at him, but Gerry pushed me toward the dancefloor and looked at me pointedly. I shook my head and headed to my Cal-distraction.

  I moved through the crowd toward the guy, making myself obvious as I stood behind him and stared quite openly. He would do. That was all I cared about. He turned and gave me a conspiratorial smile; probably aware I’d been staring the whole time and crooked a finger at me. I downed the drink in my hands, leaving it on a table beside me and moved in, hips touching already and his arms moving around my neck. I was pretty flattered that someone this young would go for me and I had a nervous jolt of worry that he was too young, but then I caught his smile and he leaned up to speak into my ear “I’m twenty seven; I can show you my ID. I look young. I’m not a kid. I’m really, really not.”

  It was the best thing anyone had ever said.

  We fell through the door of my flat a few hours later. I was more drunk than I should have been, my tolerance level lowered significantly from weeks of too much work and not enough fun. Simon, my lovely lithe twenty seven year old - I had made him show me his ID - was all over me and unattractively drunk by this point but that had mostly been my fault. I had planned to call it a night and cut my losses but some part of me just wanted to feel someone else against me without thinking about Cal.