“Don’t worry, babe, we’ll fill him in with all the juicy details,” Tasha called after him, as Mal scarpered up the stairs as quick as he could.
After he’d visited the bathroom—he really had needed a pee—Mal escaped into his room and sat down on the bed. He needed a bit of space. Everything had gone good, and now . . . Now he wanted to sit quietly for a mo and try not to think about how badly it could all have gone.
Dev wasn’t pissed off about it. He was going to give Jory a chance.
And Jory was going to give Mal another chance. Despite all the fuckups, all the stupid crappy things he’d done, Jory was giving him another chance.
Mal let himself fall back on the bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what Jory was doing.
Then he realised he could just bloody well ask him, grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and sent a quick text: U there?
The answer took a little while to come through. Where else would I be?
Mal smiled. Dev here. Up 4 seeing u.
Waiting for a text to buzz through, Mal almost dropped the phone when Jory rang him instead. “Yo?” Mal’s voice didn’t shake, he was proud of that, but his heart was pounding in his rib cage as if it wanted to come out and play.
“Hi.” Jory’s voice on the other end was like the perfect mug of hot chocolate, all warm, rich, and comforting.
“Hey.”
“So you persuaded him? I’m . . . I don’t know what to say. But thank you.”
“Tash helped. And he said if I like you, that’s good enough for him. Only, uh, he said it with metaphors.”
“Well, as long as it wasn’t similes.”
“Poncy overeducated git.” Mal paused. “Uh, don’t take that the wrong way.”
Jory chuckled. Over the phone, it sounded all breathy and did weird things to Mal’s insides. And other bits. “There’s a right way?”
“Duh. There’s always a right way and a wrong way.”
“So what would be the right way?” Jory’s voice was all teasing.
Mal swallowed. “Uh, just to be clear, are we talking about Dev or are we having phone sex?”
“Now that you’ve brought up my nephew, I think I can categorically say we’re not having phone sex.”
“Well, shit. Um. So, I haven’t, like, made any arrangements, but are you free tomorrow?”
“Would that be for meeting Dev or for phone sex?” The teasing tone was back.
Mal was torn. “You’re a lot pervier over the phone, you know that?”
Jory laughed. “That’s because you can’t see me turning red.”
“Oh yeah? How far down does it go?”
“You want me to check for you?”
Mal was going to say Yeah, baby in a low, growly voice. Somehow what came out was totally different and all high-pitched and squeaky. “I really fucking wish you were here.”
There was a silence that lasted just long enough for Mal to start to panic. Then: “Me too. Funny how far a mile or so can seem. I mean, it’s not much further than my walk to work, but . . .”
“Yeah.”
“I could come down, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t be the best idea?”
Mal tried his hardest to convince himself that Jory coming down to the pub would be the best idea ever, but . . . “Nah. Give Dev a chance to settle in. Get ready for it. But tomorrow, for defs.”
Mal had planned to give it half an hour and then go back down, but Tasha came up to find him before he got that far. She poked her head around the door with her eyes shut. “Babe? You having a wank?”
Mal moaned loudly. “Oh yeah, that’s it, shit, gonna come so hard . . .”
Her eyes flew open. Mal grinned at her from where he was sitting on the bed, fully clothed. Not wanking, cos he wasn’t daft. He’d have locked the door for that. “Made you look.”
Tasha stuck up her finger. “I knew you weren’t really. Wanker. Are you ever coming down again? Cos I ain’t bringing your lunch up here.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way. I just needed to chill for a bit, you know? You said lunch, right?” He batted his eyes up at Tasha hopefully.
“Ready and waiting. Emphasis on waiting, so get your arse in gear, yeah?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
“That’s what you said before, and I didn’t believe you then either.” Tasha cackled and disappeared.
Mal heaved himself off his bed and plodded down the stairs. His ankle hardly hurt at all now, and the swelling had gone down. Which was good, obviously, but it made him feel even more embarrassed over last night’s little adventure. He patted his thigh and, ow, yeah, the bruise was still reassuringly painful. He hadn’t been a total crybaby over nothing.
Dev and Kyle were sitting at a side table in the bar, already tucking in to a couple of ploughman’s lunches. Mal slid into the empty seat where his own lunch was laid out. “It’s all right. You didn’t have to wait,” he said to be a git.
“Nah, we knew you’d only feel bad about it,” Dev said with his mouth full. “You eating that cucumber?”
“Nope.” Mal scooped the four or five slices up onto his knife and dumped them on Dev’s plate, taking a pickled onion in trade. Kyle would thank him for it later. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Settle in, laze about a bit, hope the weather picks up. You?”
“Not really got any plans.”
“Aintcha seeing that bloke of yours, then?”
“Well . . . I saw him this morning. Thought I’d spend the day with you two, since it’s been so bloody long.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. Can’t promise we ain’t both gonna fall asleep on the sofa, mind.”
“No worries. I’ll bring my Sharpie.”
Dev laughed. “Oi, Kyle’s the only one allowed to put a dick on my face.”
Tasha, who’d been clearing the next table, made a gagging sound. “Jeez, Dev, you just had to go
