Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Twelve
Elliot
“I saw the cab, and thought to come out and greet you. I see I had no need.”
Gavin’s tone is as calm and level as ever, but the hard line of his jaw, and the tiny twitch of muscle, give him away.
I look down at Freddie, nestled at my feet, his face burning a deep red and only an inch or two from my cock, and I open my mouth, ready to explain, just as I was always ready to explain when Gavin had that look. I clamp it closed, because I don’t need to explain anything to Gavin, not anymore.
Pushing himself up, without falling face first onto my dick, Freddie’s crouched next to me on the seat. Leaning forward, he rests one hot hand on my thigh as he holds the other out for Gavin to shake.
“Hello, I’m Freddie,” he says, with a wide-mouthed smile.
“I think we should perhaps leave the introductions until later.” Gavin makes no attempt to take Freddie’s hand, and irritation bubbles up inside me, but before I can say anything, Gavin’s speaking again, as smooth and cool as ever. “There are cocktails around the pool in an hour. I’m sure you both wish to freshen up after your journey.” With a small, tight smile, he swings on his heel and strides through the open wrought iron gates and along the long path leading up to the villa.
“What a way to make an entrance. Would epic be a good description?” Freddie’s eyes are bright, and his lips twitch as he does his best — and fails miserably — to hold back his bubbling laughter. “I don’t think Gav’s all that impressed with me.”
Gav. I know how much Gavin’s going to bristle at being called that, and I can’t help joining in with Freddie’s laughter.
“Epic, and the stuff of legends. Come on, let’s get in.”
We scramble out of the cab where we find our luggage waiting for us. Seconds later, with the fare and a large tip in his pocket, the driver’s bumping away down the rutted track.
I’m just about to lead us up to the villa when my phone bleeps.
“It’s Andrew,” I say, reading the message. “Ah, good. We’re in one of the cottages… Key’s in the door… He’ll see us when we’re ready.”
“So, our arrival’s been announced?”
“Evidently.”
I wonder what spin Gavin’s already put on it, but whatever it is, Andrew knows to take anything that comes out of Gavin’s mouth with a massive pinch of salt.
We skirt around the side of the villa, which glows like burnished gold in the early evening sunshine. We left the airport less than an hour ago, and under a deep blue sky, but it’s already turning a soft pink-mauve, a shade I’ve seen nowhere else in the world other than around the Mediterranean coast. A winding path leads us away from the villa towards soft ochre-coloured cottages topped with deep terracotta tiles, before it goes on to the small beach, which although not private, is only really accessible from the villa.
“This is lovely,” Freddie says, as I let us into the cool and airy lounge area, the door swinging to a close behind us.
He looks around, his lips slightly parted, his green-gold eyes wide as his gaze sweeps around, and I follow it, and try to look at it all as though seeing it for the first time.
White walls, honey-coloured wooden floor, two large sofas both a deep cerulean blue strewn with plump deep orange cushions. Tall terracotta vases are filled with dried flowers which echo the colour scheme. A wall-mounted plasma TV hangs over the fire place where a wood burning fire sits, redundant in the warm air. It’s simple, unfussy, and classy. Whatever I may privately think of Marcus, the man’s taste and eye for detail can’t be faulted.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so, I don’t know, cool I suppose. I mean, when you said they used to be gîtes, it made me think of the one me and Cosmo rented, when we were at uni. That place was like a stable, and smelled like one. And it had bad plumbing. I guess this place doesn’t have bad plumbing?”
I laugh. “No, Andrew and Marcus would be horrified by the thought.”
“But there’s one problem.”
“What—?”
“Air con. I’d rather feel a real breeze blowing through, wouldn’t you?” Freddie grabs the remote, switching off the air con and the low level buzz with it, before he flings the floor to ceiling glass door open which leads to the verandah, letting in the sweet smelling summer air, and the faint murmur of sea on sand. “So it’s cocktails by the pool. Think I’d rather have a cold beer. I’d even drink a Badger’s Bum,” he says, throwing me a smile.
“I’m with you on that. Come on, let’s get ourselves unpacked and sorted.”
He nods, as I lead the way through into the bedroom. And there it is, in the middle of the room, soft transparent voile curtains tied at the four corners of the four poster bed. We’ve talked this through, we’ve discussed it, but seeing the bed made up for two… I can feel Freddie just behind me, I can feel his stillness. I lick my lips and turn to face him.
“The sofas are huge, I’ll sleep on one of them.” My voice sounds croaky and overloud in the silence.
“We can share. Erm, swap around, I mean.”
His voice comes out in a rush, as he reaches up and rubs at the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot and looking everywhere but at me. All awkward arms and legs, like when I’d watched him just days before as he’d waited outside the Tube station, and just like then, the age gap feels vast and unbridgeable, and my stomach clenches at what we’ve agreed to.
“We’d best get showered and changed, and then I’ll introduce you to our hosts. You go ahead and sort yourself out first. I’ve got some calls to make,” I lie. I dash out through the open door and onto the verandah, before he can answer me.
Outside, I make my way down the meandering path that ends at the beach. I don’t run across anybody else, thank God, because I need some space. The beach is empty, except for some stacked-up sun beds. Making for a rocky outcrop, I climb to the top and sit looking out at the calm waters.
At least they’re calm, because I’m bloody well not.
I narrow my eyes as I look out to sea, which is changing from deep blue to a molten orange as the sun dips below the horizon, and I think about what’s to come.
Gavin, and the inevitable raised eyebrow and smirk at the disparity in mine and Freddie’s ages. I don’t care what he thinks of me, because I’ve stopped caring. But I do care about Freddie, and what I’m exposing him to. Jesus Christ, have I really, truly, thought this through?
“Damn, damn, damn.” I rake my fingers through my hair.
Damn James for setting in motion this whole car crash, poised to hurtle out of control down the hill, but most of all, damn myself.
* * *
“Are you sure this is okay?” Freddie says. “I mean, it’s a cocktail party, and—”
“There’s nothing to worry about.” I try and reassure him, but he really has nothing to be concerned about on the looks front. Dark jeans, and a soft shirt of the palest, lightest, watery pink, loosely fitted and perfect for his lean and lightly muscled frame. “Yes,” I say, a rough edge to my voice, “there’ll be cocktails but it’s really just drinks around the pool. You look perfect, and everybody will be envious because you’re mine.”
I catch Freddie’s eye, reflected in the full-length mirror that takes up most of the wall opposite the bed. His hands fall still, fingers caught in his fringe that he’s fiddling around with. Holding his gaze, I can’t drag my eyes away because he does look perfect. My words aren’t words for words’ sake, because I will be the envy of every man gathered around the pool, but they have a proprietary, possessive edge to them that comes from I don’t know where.
“Got to make sure I look like somebody you’d want hanging from your arm. I’m ready.” Freddie’s smile is little more than the softest curve of his lips as he gives his hair one last sweep with his fingers.
We walk up the path towards the villa in silence. The breeze rustles in the bougainvillea, and the cicadas croak as the sea whispers in the background. As we near the villa, other sounds join in. Laughter and music waft on the warm air, along with the chink of glasses. I suck in a deep, steadying breath as we enter the softly lit area around the pool where the wedding party’s gathered. This is it. I let my breath escape, slow, controlled, calm. I can do this, we can do this.
I glance at Freddie. If he has any nerves, they’re tucked out of sight. His face is calm and controlled, and all my fears fall away. He turns to me and smiles, tilting his chin very slightly upwards. Determination shines bright in his eyes.
“Ready to make an entrance?” he asks, his voice low.
I jump as Freddie takes my hand, warm and firm as he wraps his fingers around mine. He chuckles under his breath, the sound rippling up my backbone, my skin prickling as tiny explosions rush along every one of my nerves.
“I thought I was the nervous one.” He cocks his head and looks at me through his thick lashes as he bites down on his plump lower lip. “Do I look winsome enough? Adoring enough? When should I flutter my lashes at you? Should we have a special sign, like if I pick my nose?”
I burst into laughter, and the stiffness that’s seized hold of my neck and shoulder muscles drains away, like water down a plug hole.
“I think we can leave the nose picking aside — unless you have a real need to, of course, but do try and avoid wiping bogies down your front. In this dry air, they’ll set and go hard very quickly.”
Freddie’s answering laugh is a burst of warmth, and I grin at him as I hold his hand in mine and forget about everything else.
“Elliot.”
The deep, masculine voice behind me has me swinging around, and I’m pulled into a hard hug by the mountain of a man who is my friend Andrew.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers against my ear, his voice as gravelly as always. “And that you’ve brought somebody.”
“I’m sorry I was so last minute in telling you,” I whisper back. “I hope this hasn’t caused any issues.” Problems with Marcus. I don’t need to say the words for Andrew to know what I’m talking about.
“Of course not,” he says, but I’m not sure I believe him. Marcus is Gavin’s oldest, closest friend, and I know he’d have had plenty to say both to both Andrew and Gavin. “Now, introduce me to Freddie.”
I pull out of Andrew’s embrace, my heart thumping hard. Clearing my throat, I make quick introductions.
If Freddie’s taken aback by Andrew, who’s holding out his giant fist of a hand in greeting, he’s not letting on. Andrew’s dark beard may have been trimmed and his wild, black hair under some semblance of control, but my old friend has never quite lost the pirate crossed with a pissed off yeti look. To the uninitiated, he’s scary and intimidating and I kick myself for not warning Freddie. But I’ve no need to worry, as Freddie takes hold of Andrew’s hand without a moment’s hesitation, his smile big, bright and confident, as he meets Andrew’s eyes with a steady, unflinching gaze.
“It’s good to meet you, and congratulations. Thank you for allowing me to accompany Elliot.”
Letting go of Andrew’s hand, Freddie once more takes mine as he presses himself into my side. Andrew’s eyes flicker down to our joined hands.
“You’re very welcome. Come on, let’s get you both a drink,” he says, ushering us forward.
A drink. Somehow I know I’m going to need it.
