Back Home by Rj Scott

Author:Rj Scott [Scott, Rj]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00DC8UAJI
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-06-06T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Jordan was tired. Exhausted. His hand and wrist ached, his body felt like it had been run through with lead, but his mind was buzzing and he couldn’t sleep. He sat on the iron steps by the garage, leaning back and looking up at the stars. There were so many confused images in his head that he couldn’t begin to think about the renovations or anything for the future. He was on his second beer.

“Beer at midnight? I thought by now you would have given those up.” Soft words, but Jordan started in surprise at Kieran standing there looking down at him, his hands pushed in his jeans pockets and his face half in the shadows.

“Several times,” Jordan responded with a hint of humour in his voice. “Why are you out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too much in my head, so I drew some stuff, didn’t work, saw you here—” Kieran shrugged, like that explained everything.

“Drafting, or sketching?” Jordan was curious. Kieran was a gifted artist and could capture scenes in beautiful intricate detail. He wondered if his lover’s brother had kept it up. He shifted on the stairs, the iron starting to become uncomfortable to sit still on, even more so when Kieran decided to sit next to him, his thigh touching Jordan’s and the smell of shampoo drifting down with him. He had obviously showered before coming out.

“Mmm, some sketching, and a bit on the house. I have some ideas. There is a lot of sixties shit in the house, orange walls, a plastic kitchen. We need to rip it all out.” Kieran waved his hands expansively, knocking Jordan’s sore wrist, causing him to wince at the pain. He wriggled back a bit, but Kieran caught his hand, looking at the bandage, probably imagining the injury under the grubby grey day-old material.

“Dude,” Jordan murmured, pulling his hand free, and Kieran just smiled that stupid smile of his, the one that was apology and laugh all in one. The one Jordan remembered from the first kiss.

“Sorry,” Kieran offered, and leant back, silently contemplating the stars Jordan had been examining.

Jordan had nothing else to say and shifted to draw up his knees, popping the tab on another beer. That damn kiss was never going to leave him. Brad and his half-assed dares.

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