2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“So, Daxy. I’ve been thinking.”

Little did Jason know, one use of a nickname would have dire consequences for him. I do not like nicknames, and I already know where this is heading. We’re on our third date. We met at the primary school where I work. He was just a temp, but we hit it off immediately. He was covering a class because another staff member had a stomachache. Cue the eye roll. Grab an Imodium and tough it out like the rest of us.

Anyway, we started talking during lunch break and I thought he looked cute in his beige trousers and crisp white shirt. I should have known right then. Beige is boring and reliable, but not fun.

We had a good time on the first date. The second date went even better, and he was amazing in bed. But this third date is going where they all end up. In the bin.

Even after clearly stating to Jason that I am not interested in anything serious or long-term or anything that requires more than a few hours of my time, he still hasn’t got the message. Judging from the tone of his voice, he believes he has convinced me to change for him. Well, I have news. It’s not happening.

With a forced smile, I ask him while finishing my beer. “What’s that then?”

“Well, we’ve been getting along so incredibly well these past few dates that I feel like I know every little detail about you already.” Jason bats his stupid eyelashes. I’m salty that he’s ruined my evening. “Now, I know you said you don’t do relationships,” his tone is slightly pleading, an edge of hopefulness to it I instantly want to squish under my foot. “But I believe we’ve got something special here.”

And there it is.

I hold in the sigh and clench my fist under the table. Why can’t I just go on dates and hook up without having to be in a committed relationship? They’re not my cup of tea. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Do not rate. Why is it so hard to get your dick wet these days? Like suck it and move on.

Jason reaches out to hold my hand across the table. However, I’m familiar with this move; they believe holding my hand will magically alter my thoughts. It won’t, no matter how hard you try. I move my hand aside and gesture to the waiter for the bill.

Such a shame, because it was a great meal. I ordered the steak, while Jason opted for the salmon salad. He paired his meal with a glass of white wine, while I had a beer. It was pleasant. Jason, with his cute appearance and blond hair perfectly styled to the side with just the right amount of gel. The navy shirt complemented his beige trousers nicely. I was looking forward to pounding his ass tonight. Now I’m going home to use my hand. Sad times.

“Look Jason, you’re a really nice guy, but this just isn’t going to work out. It’s me, not you.” That good old line. Make them think you’re the problem, not them.

“Oh, don’t be like that. You just need a bit more time. That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.”

You’ll be waiting a long time then. I order him an Uber since I drove my car here. I know I’m being a cunt by not driving him home, but I’m over it. Chivalry is dead, ladies and gentlemen.

With a smile, I pay the cute waiter and leave a generous tip before getting up to leave. In a fluster, Jason trails after me.

“Dax, come on. I’m sorry. I know I come on too strong, forgive me. Let’s go back to yours and we can talk about it.”

Thankfully, his Uber pulls up. “Thank you for your company tonight,” I lean in and kiss his cheek, “but we won’t be seeing each other again. So do yourself a favour and lose my number.” I pull open the car door for him, not because I’m a gentleman, but because I just want to hurry this along.

“You’re an arsehole,” he says with a huff, getting into the cab.

Never said I wasn’t. I slam the door, walking over to my BMW to drive myself back home. To my house. My nice, big, empty house.

Walking through the door, I hear the jingle of my keys as they land on the kitchen counter, and I immediately head to the fridge to grab a cold beer. Another night gone to shit because people don’t listen.

The piercing sound of my alarm clock startles me awake. 8 A.M. on a Saturday morning.

My routine has been the same for the past 6 years, ever since Jake, my son, went off to university. He is currently pursuing a medical degree and thoroughly enjoying the university experience. Juggling his studies, hospital shifts, and quality time with his boyfriend, Lewis, doesn’t leave us with a lot of time for family stuff, but we make it work. We have a video call every Saturday, and he sends me text messages throughout the week. Once a month, we gather at my place for family night, and even my ex, his mum, joins us.

Jenny and I crossed paths at university, where we were both pursuing our dreams of becoming teachers. Our schedules aligned perfectly, and we ended up in every single class together. We were drawn to each other, and we found comfort and joy in our friendship. However, as time went on and the demands of university consumed us, dating became too overwhelming for us both. We had already been spending all our time together, so transitioning into a romantic relationship seemed like the logical next step.

A few fumbles later, and she was pregnant. Talk about throwing a spanner in the works. Yet again, we found a way to make it work.

With my parents’ wealth, I enjoyed a privileged upbringing, for which I’m grateful. However, becoming a young father was not the path they had in mind for me. Additionally, they were not happy when we decided not to marry, but Jenny and I eventually decided that we were better off remaining friends.

Jenny is the only girl I’ve ever slept with, and it wasn’t mind-blowing for either of us. It was only after I became interested in a guy on the football team that I realised I was gay. Mother dearest, not wanting her reputation as a parent to be tarnished among her snobby friends, generously contributed to our purchase of this house when Jake was born so we could live together as a family.

Throwing off my cover, I get up and stretch. God, I’m getting old. I’m sure my body never used to crack this much. I put on my glasses, straighten the bed, and take a quick detour to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

I quickly pick up my iPad and prop it up on the kitchen counter as I toss some bread into the toaster. When it rings, I answer and am greeted by Jake’s smiling face. “Hey, son. How’re things?”

“Ah, you know, busy. I had a full week at the hospital. I’m tired as heck, but I love it.”

His warm smile reaches his eyes. “Oh, I have some news. Lewis’s mum invited us to go stay with her for the week… in Paris! Can you believe it? So, I get to relax before it all starts again after Christmas.”

“Well, that’s nice. How the other half lives, eh?” I laugh. Jake deserves a break; he works so hard, and one day soon, he’ll be a qualified doctor. We’re so proud of him for following his dream career. “Where’s Lewis?”

“He’s packing for us now; you know I’m terrible at it.” We both laugh. Yeah, I do. The one time Jenny and I asked Jake to pack his own case for a family trip to Florida at age fifteen, thinking he was old enough to start doing things for himself, turned out to be too much of an ask. Jake ended up bringing three pairs of joggers and two hoodies in 40-degree heat because he’d forgotten that he might need anything else. He’d been too busy reading a medical book the night before and forgotten to pack till the last minute.

“Yeah, I remember,” I smile.

“So, Dad, what’s the plan for the run-up to Christmas? Got any hot dates lined up? How many have you had this week?” he asks with a smirk because my son knows about my terrible dating history.

“Cheeky sod! I’ve only had one this week, but this guy...” I trail off.

“Wait, don’t tell me! He thought he was ‘ the one ?’ How dare he!”

I sigh, pushing back my messy brown hair. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’ve gotta be running outta guys,” Jake chuckles. “There has to be someone who can make my dear old dad weak in the knees.”

Oh, they make my knees weak. That’s not the problem; it’s the rest of it. Once Jenny and I agreed to remain friends and co-parent Jake, they both became my top priority. Juggling between university and raising a child, I found myself with little time for anything else. By the time Jake left for university and Jenny moved out, I had become set in my ways. I like my own company, my own space, my routine. That’s why Saturday’s my cleaning day. I dust and vacuum every corner of the house, from top to bottom, change my bed, and do all the laundry. Then I go food shopping for the week and end up ordering Indian takeout, grabbing a cold beer, and watching a movie. On weekdays, I work at Kingslee Primary School, where I’ve been for the past ten years. And once or twice a week I try to get laid.

Fun, with no commitment. Although, lately, I’ve been wondering if I’m truly having fun or if I’m just kidding myself.

“You know how I am Jake; I think my time for settling down has been and gone.”

“That’s rubbish and you know it. You’re only forty-two. You’re just scared. Don’t be afraid to start over, Dad.”

Wise words coming from my son. “Don’t you try to use your sweet-talking doctor skills on your old man! Save them for Lewis and your patients.”

Scared my arse. I ain’t scared. Nothing scares me. I just don’t like change, that’s all.

“Yeah, all right. Anyway, you gonna ask me?”

“Ask you what?” I know exactly what he’s asking me.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dad. Tristan. You always wanna know how he is. Not sure why you can’t just call him yourself.”

Because he’s your best friend, and it’s weird. Every time I even hear his voice, my heart starts pounding like some lovestruck creeper. And then the memory of that kiss returns...

Shaking my head, I focus on Jake, who bears an uncanny resemblance to me—brown hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. Jenny always jokes that after carrying him for 9 months, he finally came out looking like a mini version of me.

“Tell me, how’s Tristan?” I cave.

Jake smiles. “I’m about to call him after we’ve finished talking, but he’s good. Still loves his job. I’m about to break it to him that I can’t see him this week, because, ya know, Paris!”

“Ditching your best friend for your man, eh?” Now my mind wanders and wants to know if Tristan will be by himself over Christmas. He and Jake used to be glued to the hip, till Tristan dropped out of uni and got himself a job instead.

“Don’t say it like that. I worry about Tris enough as it is. He’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

I’m just about to ask Jake what he’s talking about when Lewis appears. “Hey Dax, how’s it going?”

“Good, Lewis. Yourself?”

“Yeah, just trying to get this one ready for our trip.” He nudges Jake and kisses his cheek. Lewis is a good partner. He loves Jake, and that’s all I care about—that my son is happy. Lewis is his person. They’ve been together for two years now, and I couldn’t wish for a better potential son-in-law.

“Jake told me. Lucky you! Maybe you can go visit Grandma and Grandpa. They’re spending Christmas in Marseille.”

“Yeah maybe. You gonna be okay over Christmas?” Jake’s voice takes on that sad tone I don’t like. I know he worries about me, too. “We’ll come see you when we’re back. We still on for a New Year’s family night, right?”

“Hell, yeah, we are. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Go enjoy yourselves. Lewis, take care of my boy.”

“I always do, Dax. Have a good Christmas.”

“You too, Lewis. Jake, go get yourself sorted, and text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, Dad.”

“Love you, son.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

I hit End Call , and pull up my music app, hitting play. The sounds of Michael Bublé fill my kitchen, putting me in a festive mood as I take out my cold toast and slather it in butter. Nothing like buttered cardboard to start your morning.