Taking Him On by Debbie McGowan

Author:Debbie McGowan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“All right, bro? Good to see you.” Dion was wearing denim shorts—wet denim shorts—that were hanging too low and soaked my pants when he gave me a man hug on the doorstep and then went back inside, expecting me—and, I presumed, Matty—to follow. “Shut the door behind you,” he called over his shoulder.

I hadn’t seen Dion in more than two years, but he greeted me as if it had been a couple of days, calling me ‘bro’ and not at all bothered about being semi-naked—or no doubt at some point during our stay, fully naked—in my presence.

“We’re out in the garden, by the way.”

Matty peered up at me in wide-eyed confusion, not that he did any other sort. I led the way, up the steps, through the front door…

“Whoa!” This was some student house. When we’d found the road, Matty had said the houses looked big, and we’d had to walk a fair distance from the road to the front door, which should have given us some idea, but the place was massive.

Matty rotated on the spot, trying to take it all in. “The rent must be epic. How many students live here?”

I shrugged. “No idea,” I said, but it had to be quite a few of them. From the outside, we’d noticed there were three storeys, and I counted four doors leading directly off the enormous entrance hall, so it was something like a six-bedroom house. I glanced up the stairs, but the view was blocked by a closed fire door, and there were no windows. The only light came from the back of the hallway, along with distant shrieks and laughter. It was a big, old, draughty house, and after being out in the warm, bright sunshine all day, it was a bit on the chilly side.

That was our first impression of the place; the second was what a bloody mess it was, and following the route we thought Dion had taken only led to the discovery of further devastation. The walls were missing entire lengths of wallpaper and sockets dangled by their wires. There was washing hanging over the radiators, and it was dusty, so it had obviously been there a while. The kitchen was piled high with dirty pots and pans, and the floors were…ick. Still, it was a free place to kip for a couple of weeks, and beggars can’t be choosers, unless, of course, there were…cockroaches. Looking at the mess all around us, that was a strong possibility.

“Why do they live like this?” Matty whispered. His eyes were still wide as saucers, and he kept blinking, as if he expected to find the next time they opened all the mess would have vanished.

“They’re students?” I said, thinking the exact same thing as came out of Matty’s mouth next.

“So are we.”

Maybe it was because we were four gay guys sharing a house, and we were more particular about hygiene and tidiness than straight guys, although I’d never been convinced by that argument. I got

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