“Ash, come on!”
Landon’s voice filtered up the stairs and he sounded just that bit more annoyed than he had the last time he’d called up.
“Be right there.”
Landon was like a cat on hot bricks; to Ash’s reckoning his brother had been ready for an hour, and if they left now, they’d still be half an hour early for the eight o’ clock meet in The Wychwood. Once Landon had been honest about how he had feelings for Rachel, the dam had been breached. Ash had been treated to a few hours of how wonderful Rachel was, how funny she was, how her eyes were violet which meant they were blue in some lights and mauvey-blue in others. Landon was blown away by the fact she was a veterinary nurse, was confident with herself, and loved action films. Landon was head over heels.
The talking didn’t stop on the walk down to the pub.
“Then she said the rabbit was okay, which was a relief.”
Ash had tuned out his brother. Last he’d heard, Landon was talking about some investment in Japan, the next he was talking about a rabbit. He was lost in profit and loss in his head, in balancing spreadsheets and battling familiar guilt over his secrets, but Landon was clearly expecting a response to the latest twist.
Ash gave the most appropriate response he could. “Good.”
“You’re not even listening to me,” Landon accused. “But let me tell you something, if we ever have an asthmatic rabbit, it will be going to Rachel’s practice for care.”
Ash glanced at his brother with a smile. “They were good with Tux.” Then he realised what he’d said.
“What’s wrong with Tux?”
Ash stopped in his steps. “Okay, you can’t tell Steph, but there was a thing—”
“What happened?”
“He got into a fight—”
“She’ll kill you—”
“It wasn’t my fault—”
“But he’s okay?”
Ash held up a hand to stop the rapid-fire responses. “The cat’s fine. Humiliated because he’s wearing a cone of shame and hiding out in the boot room, but fine. By the time Steph comes home, he’ll be all healed up and no one will be upset.”
Landon nodded as he processed the reasoning. “Probably for the best.” They resumed walking and within a few minutes, they were at The Wychwood and inside the old beamed main bar.
They bought drinks and sat in a far corner with their backs to the wall and the soft buzz of talking a welcome backdrop to their own chatting. The interior of the pub was very old, all beams and low lighting, a large open fire at the centre of the room with a chimney bisecting the room into two distinct areas, one for drinking, one for more formal bar meals. The fire wasn’t lit; the evening warm, but Ash could imagine the fire and just that one thing had so many memories flooding his head. Of his first beer right here in the village. Of course it had been a stolen beer, Landon had never noticed, and being fourteen had meant it tasted like shit, but it was a memory that was so crystal clear he could remember the moment like it was yesterday.
“Is it stupid that I’m so nervous?” Landon said, soft and low.
“Why? She likes you, you like her, I think it’s pretty much guaranteed to be a good night.”
“Ash?”
“Hmmm.”
“Thanks.”
Landon bumped shoulders and Ash made a big show of spilt beer as a consequence. It really was how they rolled.
At ten after eight Rachel walked into the pub, and Landon sat up straighter before standing, having to stoop given they’d chosen a table under the lower beams. Not that Ash would have had to stoop at all. She hesitated by the bar and exchanged words with the woman there, holding up two fingers, then refocusing on their table, before crossing to them with a smile on her face. And right behind her, looking faintly disgruntled and with his focus like a laser on Ash, was Connor.
“She didn’t tell me you’d be here,” Connor said. Ash crossed his arms over his chest and slid back a bit in his chair. Next to him Landon and Rachel were talking about something, with added kisses as punctuation, but all his focus was on Connor.
“Is it a problem?” he asked, deceptively calm. He was here for Landon, and Connor was probably here for Rachel. Both wingmen to the great romance. He knew his tone was daring Connor to take a stand and demand to know why he was being exposed to Ash. How Connor reacted was going to be funny to watch. Was he going to turn and run? Or sit and battle his corner? Was he horrified at having to spend time in Ash’s company, or was he quietly liking the idea as much as Ash was?
“Not at all,” he said. Then he sat in the fourth chair and thanked the barman who brought over a bottle of white and two glasses. By the time he poured two glasses and Rachel and Landon had finished their hellos, the original shock of Ash and Connor seeing each other had subsided into nothing.
The talk turned to Tux, and thank the heavens Landon actually knew what Rachel was talking about. Then the chatting became more general, and Ash watched Connor every moment he could. When Connor talked about the procedure on Tux, of how the rabbit had been saved, of the fact he was being made a partner, of how Rachel loved what she did and no, she didn’t want to be a vet. They were just four normal people enjoying beer and wine, with added chip and dip, plates of savoury nibbles, followed by slices of apple pie with custard and cream.
Only there was nothing normal about the way Connor was looking at him. There was sometimes laughter, and at odd moments Connor would relax into talking to Ash about a common interest, then the shutters would close and Ash felt like he had taken a step back. There was confusion etched in Connor’s face, and Ash wished he felt any better. There was something about Connor that made Ash nervous, a particular way he stared at Ash, like Ash was a bug under a microscope. Then there was the touching. Nothing overt like hands, but every so often Connor would shift in his seat and his leg would touch Ash’s. Of course it wasn’t deliberate, the tables were small was all, but every touch felt like much more.
“So then we went to see Aladdin,” Landon said and nudged Ash. Ash’s attention snapped from Connor to his brother, and he realised what the next story would be.
“Jesus, Lan.”
“Mum gave me the money, and Ash swore he could eat the biggest bucket of popcorn—”
“No more—”
“I want to hear,” Rachel insisted with a laugh. She was holding hands with Landon across the table and both she and Landon seemed so relaxed. How could Ash begrudge a few embarrassing stories if Landon could kick his nerves. He was used to being the butt of the jokes, drawback of being the youngest.
“You tell it, Ash,” Landon said. He was laughing so hard that he leaned forward on the table, and Rachel moved closer.
Ash sighed in a deliberately noisy fashion. So much for impressing the hot guy who was brushing knees with him.
“So I ate it all, and the family-size Maltesers, and I was sick all over rows three and four.” Landon snorted in laughter and Rachel was laughing along with him. Ash failed to see how a kid being sick in the cinema was funny, but hell, when Connor smiled as well, Ash felt like king of the world. “I was five, guys. Five. I was covered in sick, head to toe, and Lan stood me by the ticket office not knowing what to do, and people were walking in the foyer and turning right back round.”
“The cinema banned him.”
“No, the cinema banned Ben when he got into the fight with the ice cream man,” Ash reminded him. “The server was laughing at me and Ben accidentally-on-purpose tipped his Coke into the artisan ice creams.”
Landon was finding it hard to breathe, he was laughing so hard. “Oh my God, I forgot that.”
“Well a five-year-old being sick on popcorn and chocolate is a better story, I’ll give you that,” Ash deadpanned.
Connor made a noise and Ash glanced at him. Was that a strangled laugh? Did Connor like Ash’s dry sense of humour? Was that a tick in the win column?
“Let’s go for a walk,” Rachel announced to Landon, who stood and took her hand. Connor stood as well but Rachel held out a hand. “You two stay here, finish the wine.” She gestured at the second bottle which was half-full. Then she pressed a kiss to the top of Connor’s head. “See you at work.”
“Bye,” Landon said as they left, and abruptly Ash was alone with Connor, which was how all his best fantasies started. Only from the way he was pushing his empty wine glass away, Connor looked like he was going to leave.
Ash acted on instinct, grabbing the bottle and refilling the glass.
“I need to go,” Connor protested.
“Come on, let’s finish this. Seems a shame to waste it.” Ash nudged the glass closer to Connor and used his best innocent expression. Connor looked at him suspiciously, then down at the glass.
“Just the wine,” he said. Like that was his statement of intent and he was sticking to it.
“Just the wine,” Ash agreed.
For a few minutes they drank, Ash the rest of his cider, Connor the glass of wine, and Ash searched for something to say. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Connor didn’t like him or rather, Connor didn’t like the concept of him. The son of a Lord, with money, and the family estate. So how did Ash go about explaining who he was? And why the hell was it even an issue? Was Connor worth it? Was Ash just doing this to get in Connor’s pants, or was there a real reason for wanting to get to know Connor better and for Connor to maybe like Ash?
Beer-drinking buddy? After all, Connor seemed like a good guy. Opinionated and prickly, but he had saved Tux’s life. Great, now I’m getting all melodramatic. Ash wasn’t a friend yet, they didn’t know each other well enough.
“So, you like films, then?” Connor said, interrupting Ash’s convoluted thought process.
“Oh, you mean, after the great Aladdin incident? Yeah, I love films, not so much the cinema. You?”
Connor shrugged. Was that going to be his only answer? Then something sparked in Connor’s eyes, an enthusiasm that wasn’t there before.
“I love original Star Wars, not the new ones they did.” He delivered the line like a challenge. But Ash didn’t have to think too hard.
“God, I know.” He leaned forward. “When Han leans back in that seat, I’ve never seen a character in a film so certain of himself, and the romance of the episodes four to six was so perfect. Then they added one and I was so excited…”
“Me too.” Connor appeared more animated. “I wanted to see them so bad, but they just felt like nothing after the other ones.”
“What about the Star Trek reboot?” Ash blurted out the question, then wished he hadn’t. Uncertainty passed over Connor’s face. Maybe Connor was one of these people who just liked Star Wars and didn’t like any other sci-fi films?
“Chris Pine? Love him as Kirk, and the special effects on the second one, I thought they were amazing.”
A weight lifted from Ash. Maybe he and Connor would never be the kissing kind of friends. But maybe for the summer, they could be the kind of friends who met up at the pub for a drink.
Ash could push his disappointment to one side for a while. Especially when a happy smiley Connor had Ash’s chest tightening and arousal shooting through his body. He could imagine Connor’s hands on him, the taste of his lips, and he realised he was pretty far gone with this.
He wanted Connor. And he would do everything in his power until Connor wanted him back.
They left at the closing bell, darkness a blanket over the dimly lit village and in companionable silence stood outside The Wychwood. Connor had called a cab, he’d driven to the pub but Ash guessed he hadn’t expected to be drinking. The sound of a text being received had Connor checking his phone.
“Two minutes,” he said.
“I enjoyed tonight,” Ash offered, “I’d like to do it again.” Might as well get that out there so Connor knew. Either Connor would look at him horrified and run, or he would be mellow enough to see the benefit in another night in the pub talking films. Just as friends, of course. Ash could do friends as well as the next man.
Connor didn’t look horrified or annoyed or any of a million emotions that meant he was going to run. In fact he wasn’t actually looking at Ash at all. He was looking at his feet, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans and he seemed… well, Ash wasn’t entirely sure what Connor’s posture was showing at the moment. He was too tense for Ash to interpret it, too closed in to tell if it was fright, distaste, anger, or that he didn’t give a fuck. The sort of pose a man gets into when he was really scared of showing what he felt.
Lights cut through the dark, the approaching taxi winding through the village and circling the green to reach the pub. The noise of the engine cut into Connor’s dirt gazing and he lifted his gaze.
“I enjoyed tonight as well,” he admitted. Connor sounded so startled that Ash couldn’t help but smile.
“We should do it again,” Ash repeated.
“Taxi for Lawson?” the driver called through the open window of the car.
“Two seconds,” Connor said.
“Okay, mate,” the driver said before closing the window.
Then Connor did something that Ash wasn’t expecting. He reached out one hand and cupped Ash’s face, from temple to chin, his fingers brushing through Ash’s hair. He leaned closer and desire shot through Ash like wildfire. The touch on his skin was charged and erotic and he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. He leaned in as well. And suddenly there was the kiss. More than just a brief touch, this was heaven. With gentle pressure Connor tilted Ash’s head and deepened the kiss, the brush of his tongue asking for access that Ash gave willingly.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to pull Connor closer, but he was scared that would mean Connor would step away. Instead he rested them on Connor’s hips and hoped to hell that wasn’t a touch too far. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe, and then Connor stepped back, his hand still on Ash’s face.
“What you do to me,” he said. Ash didn’t give Connor a chance to speak again, reaching up and kissing Connor hard and fast before separating. Connor smiled, then climbed into the car, and before Ash could react, the car was moving away.
Right there in front of The Wychwood, with his mouth hanging open and his jeans tight, Ash lost his ability to think rationally.
Only when the taxi lights fully retreated and disappeared into darkness did Ash consider that he might well be close to losing his heart as well.
What the hell was happening in his head?