Summer Lovin' by Merrow JL & Munder Chrissy & London Clare & Myles Josephine & Harper Lou

Author:Merrow, JL & Munder, Chrissy & London, Clare & Myles, Josephine & Harper, Lou [Merrow, JL]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: gay romance short stories
Publisher: Pink Squirrel Press
Published: 2013-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

When I finally ventured out of hiding between flat and work and back again, I realised the chance of running into Steven was actually slim. The streets were full of tourists, of giggling groups of girls on hen party trips, of old folk with thick cardigans hugged around themselves despite it being the height of summer, of Goths with their exposed skin covered with tattoos, of heavily made-up young girls in fear of spoiling their pale fascination with ruddy sunburn. It was humbling, of course, to find I was just another body weaving my way along the pavement to and from work. And weirdly comforting, at the same time.

Dammit, I really had been in a bad state.

On that evening—the Two Portion Night, as I called it bitterly to myself—I'd hoped I’d never see him again. Never, ever, like that schoolboy language was back in my mind. I assumed he’d have the decency to fuck off and leave me alone, after stringing me along, pretending he was free… okay, implying he was free. Of course, I’d never actually asked, and he never really said. When I thought back, I realised he’d never really said much about anything at all.

Not much of a relationship, I’d said to Mandy. No, not even that. Trust me to drop my Jack-the-lad lifestyle for one incautious moment, and all for one lying scum of a bloke. Call me prat on a stick.

I missed him. Make that a hurting prat on a stick.

And then, one late afternoon, on my way to work at the “Trout and Proud”—Barry’s latest witticism, in honour of the Gay Pride celebrations—Steven dropped into step beside me. There was a thin drizzle of rain in the air, a sudden shower. I hadn’t even bothered to pull up the collar of my jacket, knowing it’d soon pass. Steven was dry as a bone, so he must have been inside one of the souvenir shops I passed. I never saw him approach, but then I didn’t think it was coincidence.

“Joe. Please, wait.”

He didn’t exactly grab my arm, but the hoarse sound of his voice made me pause. Fatal move. Next thing I knew, I’d followed him to stand under the shelter of another shop awning and he was talking to me.

“Please,” he said, again. “Just let me...”

What? Explain? Jesus, it was like some kind of soap opera. He’d say I’d misunderstood, or he’d always had an open relationship, and he didn’t think I’d be so uptight about it, or he had a fetish for threesomes—or I was just a prat on a stick.

“I want to say sorry,” he said, and his shoulders dropped.

My stare of contempt wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped. People slowed down in front of us, maybe wanting to look in the shop window, but moving on when they saw our faces. A couple of kids in shorts came out of the shop with a blow-up crocodile and ran shrieking into the rain; a woman in a plastic rain-hat tutted and wriggled past us to get inside.

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