Unless it was. My treacherous brain cycled back to the idea that hooking up with Billy was harmless because he’d be gone in a month. No-strings fun, my favourite kind—the only kind I’d involved myself in since my married lover had ditched me a few years ago.
I should’ve felt relief, but I didn’t.
Billy
“Why is my sister so nice to you?”
I glanced up from brushing Grey’s tail. Gus was standing in my bedroom doorway, like he had done four times since Mia had left, leaning on the frame, casual and easy, like I hadn’t heard him talking to his sister about regretting hooking up with me.
That’s not what you heard. They could’ve been talking about anyone. The world doesn’t revolve around you.
Especially Gus’s world. Fuck knew how many dudes he’d been with this month alone. I wasn’t special. “She’s not nice to me. She just talks to me more than Luke.”
Gus snorted. “I get that, but trust me, as someone who knows her best, she’s an absolute sweetheart to you.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” I turned back to Grey. “Maybe she’s overcompensating.”
“Or maybe she was buttering you up. You went upstairs before she gave up why she really came over.”
“I don’t care why she came over. She’s your sister, not mine.”
“She’s practically married to your brother.”
“Yeah, well. I’m sorry for her loss.”
Gus’s brow ticked. It was as close as I’d ever seen him to getting annoyed, and the pugnacious arsehole in me took the small victory. Good. Let him be annoyed. He didn’t get to take me apart on his living room floor, gossip about me with his sister, then act like we were the fucking Waltons.
Grey had a knot at the tip of his tail. I’d been trying all morning to get it out, but he kept biting me. I ran the brush through the silky fur I’d already combed through, hoping to fool him before I returned to the knot. He was onto me, though, and he swiped at my face, gripping my jaw with both front paws.
It was a welcome distraction from Gus’s scrutiny, but it didn’t last. Grey rolled away, and Gus was still in my doorway. I sighed. “So...”
“So what?”
“Why did Mia really come over? You said she had an ulterior motive.”
“She wants us to help her out at the town fair next weekend. She’s got wedding bookings so she can’t be there all day.”
“Why’s that my problem?”
“It isn’t. But she asked if you’d help Luke set it up while I run some deliveries for her. I said I’d ask you. Don’t worry, I didn’t commit you to anything.”
“Good. I might be busy then.”
“Doing what?”
“What do you care?”
Gus started to frown, then caught himself and schooled his features into a bland expression that made me want to throw things at him. “All right then. I’ll tell her you can’t. She won’t mind, she knew asking you was a long shot anyway.”
“Why did she think that?”
“For all the reasons you just said.”
“I only said one reason.”
“Okay, Billy.”
He walked away, leaving a Gus-shaped hole in my doorway. Not literally, but I felt his sudden absence like a kick to the gut. And his disappointment. Whatever vibe he’d been expecting after our latest roll-around, me reverting to the dickhead mode I usually reserved for Luke had clearly caught him off guard.
Regret bloomed somewhere around where I’d felt the impact of his sad face the most, but I fought it. Gus hid his feeling with calm smiles and blank stares.
I hid my own with pigheaded sarcasm, and as long as we both stayed true to form, nothing was ever going to change.
And nothing did change. Gus danced around me all morning, then gave up and went to the gym. Only then did I venture downstairs in search of food. Living with him made me hungry all the time. Gone were the days where I could survive on a packet of Super Noodles before bed. I needed breakfast, man. Shame I had no one to share it with.
I ate dry cereal from the box and kicked around the living room, trying not to fixate on the floor. The quiet was suffocating. I’d spent plenty of time alone in Gus’s house, and I was used to being on my own, but as time went on, I enjoyed it less and less. The TV did nothing for me without Gus to lean against and doze, so I ignored it and drifted to the vinyl turntable in the corner. I’d studied the photographs beside it enough to last a lifetime, but never the records stacked up beneath.
One hand still shoved in the cereal box, I sat down and pulled one out, turning it over in my hands. It was the 1975 Fleetwood Mac album. My mum had owned the same one and had played it all the time before she’d decided she hated Lindsey Buckingham, and went back to liking music from her own generation. It had been around that time when Mia and Gus had appeared at our school. I pictured Gus as he’d been then, and recalled my instant fascination with him.
A fascination that remained.
I set the album aside, fighting images of Gus naked last night, all muscles, body hair, and man, a world away from the boy I’d first crushed on. The next one I picked up had a French title. I put that to one side too, to google when I next had my phone.
The next three I found were old folk music, Fairport Convention, Fotheringay, and The Strawbs, whoever the fuck they were. It was more my dad’s jam than my mum’s, and I settled on the Fotheringay cos I remembered it better. I put the others back, except the French one, and lay back on the floor with it, studying the colourful album sleeve, and
