CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

“Oh my God, what are you doing?!” Noah said, springing back from Pierre.

“I kiss you.”

“No! No, Pierre! You can’t! I have a boyfriend. Harry!”

“Yes, he is very nice.”

Noah stared at him. This whole lovely picnic wasn’t an apology at all. It was a seduction!

“We are having a good time, no?”

“A good time?!” Noah spluttered.

“Noah…”

Noah stood up and brushed himself down. “No. No, I’m sorry. So very sorry, but this can’t happen. It must not happen. This is bad, Pierre. Harry is your French exchange host – you can’t just try to snaffle me from under his very nose.”

Pierre stood up too and edged closer to a very skittish Noah. “It is fine.”

“It is not fine!”

“We are both hard. You know it.”

Noah swallowed. “No. No, that’s not … entirely true. Maybe you. Not really me. But look, this has been nice, and I am flattered, I really am, but—”

Pierre stepped in and kissed Noah again, Noah immediately de-suckering himself from Pierre’s lips. “OK, thank you. I should go.”

“I upset you?”

“No. Not upset. Just bad. Wrong.”

“How can love ever be wrong, Noah?”

Noah flapped about, doing his coat back up. “Look, right, wrong, I don’t know. But Harry is my boyfriend and I love him. And now you’ve tricked me with fancy wine and lovely cheese… You created an atmosphere with your lantern and ambushed me!”

Pierre dropped his head. “I am sorry.”

Noah nodded. “Fine. Good.”

“I should have known.”

“OK.”

“I am stupid. So stupid!” Pierre slapped his hand against his forehead a few times. “I made a fool of myself.”

“Noooo…”

Pierre looked at him. “You are good boy, Noah. Harry is lucky. You are both lucky. I have made mess of this. I was thinking that the three of us… Oh, never mind. I mess it up now.”

Noah frowned. What had he been thinking?

“You go. I pack up here,” Pierre said.

“Alone? By yourself in the park?”

Pierre shrugged.

Noah swallowed. He knew he should talk to Harry about all this, but in doing so he would have to tell him what happened, and he had no way of knowing how Harry might react. He knew how he would react, if it was the other way round. And that would not be good.

Plus, thinking about it, it looked terrible. A picnic. A lantern! Wine and baked cheese! Noah might as well claim that Pierre turned up with a packet of condoms and a sex manual, but he was still surprised when the kiss happened. How stupid would Harry think he was?! It might be best … to bury this.

“Um … about what happened, though?” Noah said.

“Huh?”

“We should… I mean, obviously you made a mistake, and you weren’t to know. What I’m saying is, I don’t think Harry would be happy if he found out what you did, you know? So, what I’m saying is, I would be prepared not to say anything about it? You know?”

“Thank you.”

“OK, good. So, just to confirm, we will both say nothing? Pretend nothing happened? We came out, had a nice, basic picnic, chatted … and went home. That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“OK. OK, then. Right.” Noah shifted about awkwardly on the spot, wanting to go, but feeling a lot was now up in the air. “And, look, it was nice… The picnic, I mean. The picnic was a good picnic. Lovely, in fact. I liked it. So … thank you.”

“You are welcome. We are friends?”

“Yes!” Noah said. “Friends, for certain!”

“We hug? As friends?”

Noah took a breath. Swallowed. “Sure. As friends.”

With permission apparently granted, Pierre came up and enveloped Noah in his arms, pressing himself tight against him, breathing heavily into Noah’s neck. They stood like that for what felt like minutes. But it was a “friends” hug, so it was fine. Just friends, saying goodbye. Just friends, who may totally coincidentally have had hard-ons, saying thanks for a nice evening, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Totally fine.

Noah wriggled free. “OK. Right. Thanks. Bye, then.” And he turned and scooted off. Heart racing. Mouth dry. Doing his best “trying to make it look like fast walking when you’re really running” walk, perfected through years of hurrying along school corridors. He tried to rationalize what had just happened.

Why hadn’t he just run away after Pierre first kissed him? Why did he let it happen a second time?

Shit, he hated himself.

How could he have been so weak and pathetic?

Was it because part of him was paranoid that Pierre had done the same thing with Harry, and Noah needed proof he was worthy of being snogged too? Like, some stupid game of boy one-upmanship?

Christ, what a mess.

He hurried towards the exit on to Gordon Road. He would make this up to Harry. He would redouble his romantic efforts with him. He would make it very obvious to Harry that he was the one for him. And by next week, Pierre would be gone, and with him, the horrible secret that must never be told.

He jumped when he saw her, looking like the Slender Man, lurking in the shadows by the street lamp. “Eva?”

“Hallo, Noah.”

“You scared me, Eva. What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“Waiting,” she replied.

“Well, I would call it lurking, Eva. Lurking is a criminal offence in England, did you know that? You must come home, Eva. Where it’s safe.”

Eva glanced at him. “Meeting a friend.”

“What sort of friend?” He glanced down at her guitar case that rested on the ground.

“Enjoy your evening with Pierre?” Eva said, a twinkle in her eye, the merest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Noah froze. “Just chatting.”

“Nothing else?”

Noah felt his heart jump into his throat. He took a breath. “Er, bit of food. Some … crisps. A Coke. Nothing major. Just catching up. Why?”

Eva shrugged and looked away. “Cool.”

“OK, then. So, come on. I’ll walk back home with you.”

“Go away, Noah.”

Noah gasped. “Eva! I am your English host! You must come with me!”

“I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

“Er, no, you’ll come back now!”

“Or I’ll tell Harry what you did with Pierre.”

Noah stopped. “Didn’t do anything.”

Eva snorted. “Cool.”

“OK. OK, then, fine. Do as you please.”

“Leave the front door unlocked.”

“OK.”

“And don’t wait up for me.”

Noah looked her in the eyes – her stare was hard. Defiant. “Fine.” Noah turned, plunged his hands in his pockets and walked off, deep in worry about what Eva might or might not have seen. Noah knew he hadn’t actively kissed Pierre back, but what might Harry make of a maliciously presented report suggesting the contrary?

Also, was that what Jess Jackson had done, when relaying the information about Harry and Pierre at the cinema? Was it simply the case that Harry had been ambushed too, but had not responded in any meaningful way?

All these thoughts.

All these dilemmas.

He was lost in his own little world, but he still saw her. The lone woman, sitting in a black Vauxhall Astra, parked across the street, pointing a camera in his direction and taking photos.

He instinctively looked over his shoulder. What was so interesting and photo-worthy?

Nothing.

He stared in her direction, a tingle playing on the back of his neck. Something didn’t feel right. He hurried off, but he needn’t have worried. She started the car and pulled away, disappearing quickly up the road and round the corner, swallowed up into the night.