Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Eight
Elliot
“He sounded so enthusiastic about the whole scheme, I didn’t know how to say I’d thought better of it. And now here I am, about to meet a man who’s probably half my age in order to dress him up.”
Jasper cocks a brow at me before he resumes chewing, slurping, and grunting on his rubber bone. The affairs of his two-legged pet are of no interest to him.
“You’re no bloody good, I’d have thought—”
I stop and shake my head. What the hell am I doing? I’ve always talked to Jasper, but I’ve graduated in recent weeks from good dog, good boy to full blown conversations. I’m in serious danger of turning into Shirley Valentine, although I definitely draw the line at talking to the wall.
I make myself another tea and sit down at the long oak table that takes pride of place in my kitchen, and mull over the day ahead.
It’s only just turned seven o’clock and Jasper and I have recently returned from our jaunt across Hampstead Heath; not that it’s so much of a jaunt for him, these days, but more of a shuffle. Normally, I’d be heading off to work for the morning, finishing up stuff from the week just gone, and preparing for the one coming. I can easily work from home, but I prefer to go in. My office might be empty, but it doesn’t feel as empty as my house.
But not today.
Today is different. Today is odd different, ridiculously different, and a little bit of me or maybe a lot of me craves different. But this kind of different?
I guessed right that Freddie doesn’t have a suit. If we had more time I’d have arranged a fitting with my tailor, but we don’t, so it’s going to have to be off the peg, but high-end off the peg. He’s also going to need shirts and shoes, and a tie. With his pale skin and mop of bright blond hair, he’ll look good in navy blue. Something slim fitting, to show off that long, lean body of his, and—
“For the love of God, get a grip,” I say out loud into the silent kitchen, pushing my fingers through my hair, still damp from my shower. I’m going to be spending a long weekend in close proximity with him, in a strictly platonic relationship, when we’ll be pretending that we’re anything but. The whole situation’s going to be difficult enough as it is, without me adding to it and thinking about that long, lean body…
Sunshine streams through the window, breaking through the early morning cloud. I’ve plenty of time left before meeting Freddie, but my limbs are almost twitching with the nervous energy that fizzles through me. I jump up, decision made. I need to get out, and I need to get walking.
It’s not long before I’m ready, and I grab my keys and wallet, and shrug on my jacket. Taking Jasper’s little face between my hands, I plant a kiss on his head. A little bubble of warmth bursts in my chest when I’m rewarded with a snuffle around my ear, a squeak that’s meant to be a bark, and a wag of a stumpy tail.
“Be good, Jas, and I’ll see you later — and wish me luck because somehow I think I’m going to need it.”
* * *
The walk from my house in Hampstead is a long one, and by the time I’m nearing the Tube station where we’ve agreed to meet, I’m feeling more in control. The way to stay that way is to think of the arrangement in terms of a business deal. We’ve both signed on the dotted line. To make the deal work, we need clear guidelines and rules, and that involves thinking with the head on my shoulders and not the one between my legs.
I turn a corner and across the road is the Tube station. My breath catches so hard it hurts. Freddie’s already waiting for me, but he hasn’t seen me, and I step into the doorway of a shop, my nerves jangling like bells. The morning sun is shining on his golden hair, and I don’t know which of the two is the brighter. He’s beautiful, there’s simply was no other word to describe him, and those guidelines and rules are already growing fuzzy and out of focus.
Like me, Freddie’s tall, our six feet plus matching the other perfectly, but that’s where the comparison ends.
He looks both awkward and a little gangly, as though he’s not sure what to do with those lean limbs of his. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he folds his arms across his chest, then unfolds them, before stuffing his hands into his pockets, only to pull them out again a second later.
A heavy flop of hair falls across his brow, and he sweeps it away. It’s not long but it’s certainly on the shaggy side. My hand finds my own hair. Short, the way it’s been for years, almost severe, although it’s a little longer on top. In a mirroring gesture, I push it back from my forehead. And then he stills and turns, suddenly, just as he had in the café, his gaze finding me. His smile lights up the already bright, sunshiny day, and all those lingering doubts and fears melt away like snow in the Sahara. That smile, that bright, warm, and open smile, with just a tiny hint of shyness, is all I need to convince me once and for all that this isn’t a bad idea at all but instead a good idea. A very, very good idea, as I cross the road to meet him.
“Hi.”
Nerves roll off him in waves, as he pushes himself away from the wall, dropping his head forward slightly as, with one hand, he rubs the back of his neck.
I don’t want him to feel like that, and something tells me, some inner instinct I’ve learned over the years not to ignore, that the way to take that all away is to be completely open and honest.
“Come on,” I say, nodding to a small turning a little further along. Freddie falls into step with me, his long legs matching mine stride for stride. “I’ll be frank with you, but yesterday I almost called the whole thing off. I lost my nerve, I suppose.”
Freddie stops dead, forcing me to do the same. “You did?” He fixes me with a wide-eyed stare. “Then what stopped you?”
“You did, or rather your text. You were so sure and confident.”
“Oh. Yes. The, erm, text. Right.”
A hard flush colours his cheeks, and he drops his gaze before it flutters back to meet my own. Maybe he’d also hit the booze when he got home. I wouldn’t have blamed him.
“I didn’t send it,” he blurts out. “I’d been talking myself out of it, afraid it would all fall down around our ears. Cosmo, he got hold of my phone, because he decided he knew best. He’s a cocky little shit, and—”
I burst out laughing.
“Why…?”
“Why am I laughing?” I gaze into Freddie’s bewildered eyes. “The cocky little shit, and the cocky little runt. Cosmo and James. If they weren’t already real you’d have to make them up. They’re determined, I’ll give them that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Freddie’s lips curl into a rueful smile. “So we’ve been set up for a second time.” His smile falls away, and a small worried frown wrinkles his forehead. I know what’s coming next, and I stop him dead.
“We have been, and the only thing to do now is to fulfil our part. I’m here.” I spread my arms, palms up. Whether we take another step forward is up to Freddie.
A slow smile lifts his lips, and his bright hazel eyes shine. My pulse quickens and heat pinpricks over my skin.
“Well,” he says, his smile growing broader, “it’d be a shame for all their hard work to come to nothing, wouldn’t it?”
