Chapter 10

Sage welcomed Carl into her pleasantly warm—much too warm for layers—home for dinner. He stripped off to Jason's t-shirt, draped his pullovers over a clothes hook in the hallway, and let Leo haul him to the lamp-lit lounge across from the dining room. There, the face from the photo sat in real life.

He was perched on a plush couch, the warm light from a nearby lamp glowing over his straw-coloured hair. He looked up as Carl entered, features chiselled, jaw strong, eyes gentle and curious. He was dressed in casual jeans and a stylish polo shirt. Neatly pressed yet at ease, comfortable. All in all, rather charming.

Carl smiled at him. "You must be Poppy?"

Sage called for Leo to ‘help her a minute' and Leo ran off.

"She's leaving us right to it," Poppy said, smirking.

Carl dropped himself into the adjacent armchair. "She wants to see if we spark."

"What's your first impression?"

"Well, I now know you didn't use a filter on your photo."

"She sent you my photo?"

"How well do you know your cousin?"

Poppy laughed. "Of course she'd have done that."

The doorbell rang; Carl overheard Sage wondering who it was as she padded down the hallway, and Leo came into the lounge with sparkling water. Over the clinking of ice in the glasses, he heard muffled voices and Sage laughing cheerfully.

"Tell me, Jason, what do you do?"

Carl snapped his attention back to smiling Poppy and sipped his cool water. "Can we agree to talk about anything but work?"

Poppy chuckled. "I feel you. Agreed. What are your thoughts on—"

Whatever Poppy wanted to ask got lost as Grayson strode into the living room. There was an immediate shift in the air, something more than Carl's baffled lean in his direction. Poppy seemed to be stunned too, and fair enough. Not only had Grayson decided to come to dinner after all, he'd come in style. Black jeans moulded to his frame and a crisp white shirt that sat perfectly on his broad shoulders, top button casually open. His dark hair was impeccable, framing a cleanly shaven face, and his eyes hit them both hard. Carl was still breathing through the punch when Grayson swung his gaze to Poppy.

Sage scurried in behind him. "We're all here. You know Poppy."

"I do." The glare that came with that was... quite something. Possibly part of the reason he'd failed to mention it earlier?

Sage eyed them and quickly suggested they all move to the dining room.

The dinner table was set with bright plates and bone-handled cutlery on funky native-bird placemats. A big red pot was the centrepiece; crispy bread and a bowl of salad flanked it.

The lighting was brighter in here, and Carl couldn't shake the feeling as he sat across from Poppy that Grayson—seated adjacent to them both—was running some kind of silent interrogation.

Carl shook it off and thanked Sage for inviting him for this lovely dinner as she spooned meaty stew onto their plates. She smiled and looked at them all. "I'll need your honest opinion on the food. I confess, I'm using you as guinea pigs."

"Guinea pigs?" Poppy asked, grinning.

It was a pretty nice grin but wow, Grayson didn't seem to think so. Not if his curled lip and judgy eyes were anything to go by.

Carl kicked Grayson's foot under the table, making the guy swing his intense gaze his way. "What're you doing?" Carl mouthed.

Grayson opened his mouth to say something, but took his steaming bowl from Sage instead. "What are we testing for?"

"The mums on the school board have asked me to join their fundraising team for the talent show."

"More like forced you," Leo grumbled.

"Hush. I've always wanted to be invited to help with these events. They're always at capacity though. This year they finally let me in. I'll be in charge of the food—I thought stew and fresh bread might be a winner?"

Carl and Poppy dipped their spoons into the stew and tasted, humming. "It's excellent."

"Taste's great!"

Grayson and Leo slicked on disapproving grimaces without so much as a taste. Grayson said, "They're asking you to donate everything?"

"Mostly it'll be cupcakes from the bakery."

"When did they ask you to volunteer?"

"At the Street Greet."

"Last minute? To donate all the food? They're exploiting you."

"I'm sure it's not like that," Sage said kindly. "They even said Leo and I could join the team-building session. A fun time at some escape rooms."

Leo frowned. "You want to go? I asked if we could do one last year and you said it was the last thing you'd ever want to do. Too many riddles."

Sage flushed and waved it off. "The mums said if it was too much, I didn't have to go to that. But you know, the offer was made."

"What an offer," Grayson bit out, and Carl was starting to feel why he was so upset. These witches seemed indeed to be using Sage, knowing how much she wanted to contribute and be included, making her donate a lot of costly food, and ‘offering' a chance to join the team-building, betting that she wouldn't come.

"I'll go with you," Grayson said and held up his hand to stop any protests. "I'll pay for my own ticket. Besides, those mums are always calling me for favours even when I have other plans." He looked regretfully towards Carl, and Carl recalled the quiz night—having to stand in Grayson's place. "They owe me."

"What does the event raise money for?" Poppy asked with a winsome smile to everyone at the table, ending and lingering on Carl. "I'd be happy to donate."

"The funds go towards a new school pool."

"Mum, can I have more meat?" Leo asked.

"Sure, sure. Eat up everyone, before my bottomless pit here beats you all to it."

As they refocused on their stew, Carl felt eyes on him from Poppy's side of the table and glanced up to find he was right. He swallowed his mouthful. "Where abouts do you live?"

"Kelburn, up on the hills. Beautiful view." Poppy leaned in. "I could show you sometime."

Grayson grabbed a stick of bread and ripped into it so hard Carl felt the table jostle.

He forced himself to concentrate on the man across from him. "You've always lived in Wellington?"

"Best city in the world. Don't you think?"

"There are some wonderful views," Carl said, gaze skipping briefly to Grayson, who kept stuffing bread into his mouth.

So violently delicious?he wanted to ask.

Carl smirked around another swallow of stew.

"Could you pass me the salt?" Poppy asked, snapping Carl's attention back to him. Right.

Carl held out the salt grinder for him, and Poppy's hand closed around it, touching Carl's fingers warmly. Carl shot his head up, meeting a sparkly smile—

A third hand swiped the salt from the bottom, and Grayson began grinding over his bowl. "May as well circle it around," he said, smiling from Carl to Poppy and back again as he continued to grind.

Finally, with a good plunk, Grayson set the salt next to Poppy and spooned stew into his mouth. His face froze.

"Too much salt?" Sage called down the table. She and Leo had been eyeing the whole interaction and Sage seemed to find it most entertaining. Her eyes glittered bright blue under her strawberry blonde hair.

Grayson shovelled three spoonfuls into his mouth. His voice rose in pitch as he declared, "Exactly how I like it."

Sage's eyebrow started to come up, much like Carl's own, and Grayson pointed his spoon at Leo. "How was your day?"

"Great. Had my first lesson. Jason's piano is grand!" Leo giggled at his joke and gazed admiringly towards Carl. "There's a talent show at the school holiday charity event. A bunch of kids have signed up. I didn't think I should, but..."

Sage gasped. "You'd really perform in front of a crowd? I thought the idea gave you stomach cramps. Remember those boys will be performing too."

"I always chicken out because I'm too scared. I know I might get laughed at, and I know those boys always win. But"—Leo took a deep breath—"Jason said we need courage to live our dreams."

"You're right, you're right!" Sage gave Carl the biggest, most thankful smile. "Such a motivating speech!" She looked back to her son, pride filling her eyes. "You'll really do it?"

Big, pleading eyes suctioned onto Carl's. "If Jason will help me? Tell me how to improve?"

So much hope drilled into Carl his throat seized up with the pressure of it. On a practical level, there wasn't much he could do to actually help. He also felt guilty that Leo and Sage really believed he could. But alongside the guilt was a feeling of massively blooming responsibility. He'd made Leo feel like he could be brave enough to go on stage against his bullies. To take that pillar of new-found courage away from him... that seemed as bad—worse, perhaps—as the lies.

Carl grabbed his water glass and gulped, stealing a glance at Grayson who gnawed his bottom lip, eyes pensively dark, like he couldn't work out the best response either.

"I'd love to support you being brave," Carl finally said. That was whole-hearted and true.

Leo leapt out of his chair with a fist in the air. "Can I come around again tomorrow and you help me pick a piece to play?"

Carl nodded under a stiff smile and hurriedly bowed his head towards his food.

"You're a musician?" Poppy murmured, gaze roaming over him with even more interest. "Maybe you can play on my instrument."

Grayson's glass tipped over, ice and water rushing across the table and into Poppy's lap, causing Poppy to squeal and jerk to his feet.

He flicked water off himself and glared at Grayson, then his glare steadied into something contemplative. "Huh." He smiled suddenly. "Never mind. Pants are removable."

Carl's gaze sank to Poppy's soaked lap, and suddenly Grayson was whirling Carl out of his chair and into the kitchen. "We'll clean up and help with dessert."

Grayson snapped on rubber gloves and started piling boards and knives and wooden spoons into the sink. Carl found a tea towel and dried things as they came out coated in suds.

"Why'd you decide to come to dinner?"

"I shouldn't have. I told myself not to."

"You told yourself not to?"

Grayson turned on the taps again. It took him a while before he answered. "Ah, because I have so much on." He prodded the mass of bubbles. "But I couldn't help it—Sage and Leo are always so much fun to hang with."

Carl stepped closer and was about to ask Grayson's thoughts on the Leo situation when Poppy came through with a stack of bowls.

"Let me help."

He took the tea towel from Carl and inserted himself between them. No chance of a private word with Grayson after that. Not during dessert, not before or after Leo went to bed, not while they capped the evening off with a brandy.

"Sage," Poppy murmured from the couch where he reclined comfortably in shorts borrowed from Sage. "Do you mind me crashing here tonight?"

"Course not."

Poppy's gaze cut to Carl. "Maybe I'll see you around tomorrow morning?"

Grayson pushed out of his armchair, thanking Sage for dinner. "Time to head off." He looked at Carl. "Shall we leave our host to it?"

At the door, Carl put all his layers back on, and outside—door shut behind them—Grayson added his scarf. "That's how puffed up you should've come."

"What's with you tonight? You're acting . . . off."

Grayson marched through the gate, turned down the footpath and threw Carl a look. "He kept ogling you."

"Ogling me."

"That t-shirt's very clingy and your jeans are outrageous."

"What's wrong with them? Other than the pinching."

"You looked like you wanted to be ravished there and then."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"What's the problem if I did look... ravishing?"

"You wanted to boost Carl's confidence. Not Jason's."

"Is that why you were weird all evening?"

Grayson jerked his head away; his throat jutted with a deep swallow. "Didn't we agree to be friends? A good friend would look out for you. The real you."

The real him.

In the quiet of the night, under the soft glow of a streetlamp, those words fluttered in Carl's stomach.

He stepped forwards and Grayson's body tightened, but he moved his head to fix a gut-punching gaze on Carl. Deep, thoughtful—and as he claimed, protective.

Air shifted and leaves rustled, and abruptly, Grayson stepped back. "I'm surfing tomorrow. Early." He narrowed his eyes at Sage's house and then looked over at Carl. "Did you want to come?"

Carl didn't havemuch experience surfing—and neither did Jason, judging by the lack of wetsuit in his wardrobe. Despite not having gear, Carl was strangely eager to go.

He shook off little electrical zaps, putting them firmly away in the ‘Ignore' column of his brain, and focused on the nature, the fresh air, and the early morning.

He jumped into Grayson's idling ute and handed over a travel cup of steaming coffee. "I love that we're early birds."

Grayson took the offered cup with a glance at Carl's lap and a raised brow. "Because of catching worms?"

Heat flooded Carl's cheeks and he groaned. "You're going to hold that untimely fall against me forever, aren't you?"

Grayson laughed. "My groupies go to such lengths, the least I can do is appreciate their efforts."

Carl swatted Grayson's arm. "Take that back."

"I really don't want to."

"It's a wonder your head isn't twice as big."

They were the first to arrive at Houghton Bay, and the cool sand beneath Carl's bare feet sent happy shivers through him. Dawn painted the sky in strong strokes of rippling pink, and beyond the ragged, rocky coastline was a stunning view across Cook Strait to the South Island's mountainous peaks.

Stripped down to his wetsuit, Grayson hefted his surfboard under one arm and admired the view. "The day you lost your bike, a pod of dolphins visited the bay. Saw orcas here once too."

"At home we've got tiger snakes and giant huntsman spiders."

"Really selling it, Carl. Take me there right now."

Carl laughed. "Actually it's alright. A lot of Victorian architecture—quaint cottages and colourful gardens. The town square has a fountain and a historic clock that's always malfunctioning. There's a public park and a walkway that winds around the town, a police station I'm overly familiar with, and the best wee convenience store around. Every morning the scent of fresh donuts has the locals streaming in for their filter coffee and a good ol' chat. It's the heart of all the gossip, and I'm pretty much at the centre of it."

"Perfect for someone who loves to meddle."

"I don't meddle—" At Grayson's arched brow, Carl relented. "Yeah, okay."

"It sounds cosy."

Carl hummed dreamily as they stared towards the horizon and the nice surfing swells rushing to shore. After a moment, Carl gestured for Grayson to head in. "I'll sit and enjoy the view."

"No doubt," Grayson said.

Carl kicked up a spray of sand and Grayson dodged it, racing into the frigid water with his board.

From a sturdy log, Carl breathed in the salty air and smiled. The vast sky, the ragged hills, the wide-open sea. What more was there to enjoy on this early morning—

Wow. Grayson!

Carl sat straighter, keenly watching his every move. How smoothly he mounted his board, the harmony he had with the ocean... Wave after wave he caught with grace and style, and as the sun rose higher, his athletic figure zipped along the golden water and rode all the way to shore.

Carl choked on a hoppy-electric laugh as Grayson emerged from the water. Seriously? He looked like he was putting on a show—or acting in one.

He shimmered from the surf. Water dripped from his wetsuit, ran down his ridiculously chiselled face from hair that clung in tendrils around it. He shook his head and light hit the droplets that sprayed around him, making them glisten like crystals.

Carl shook his head in horrified amazement. Life had to be shitting him right now. No way were people this glorious in real life. This looked staged.

Carl couldn't help darting his head around.

He didn't spot any cameras, but he did spot two familiar figures jogging down the steps to the beach. His old high-school mates, now successful lawyers and general winners at life.

His stomach sank. Hurriedly, he shielded his flushing face with a splayed hand.

Grayson grabbed his yellow towel from beside Carl and scrubbed his hair, eyeing him. "What are you doing?"

"Shh." Carl grabbed Grayson by a wet knee and steered him closer, hopefully blocking himself from view. He peeked around Grayson's thigh.

"Who are you hiding from?" Grayson murmured from above.

Carl glanced up at his curious, somewhat bemused expression, and beckoned him closer with four curling fingers. Grayson leaned down and drops from his hair pattered over Carl's face. "I can't with them."

Grayson shuffled and crouched, a barrier between Carl and Classmates.

"They think I'm an uneducated bum stuck in my small town with no prospects."

A heavy growl had Carl snapping his gaze away from impending discovery to Grayson's very pink and very pinched lips. He looked about ready to whirl around and confront the fellows and Carl grabbed his wrist to keep him close. "That's what I took from subtext. They didn't say anything outright."

"You got all that from subtext?"

"They paid for my lunch."

Grayson cocked his head and repeated softly. "They paid for your lunch?"

Carl squeezed Grayson's wrist. "It was the way they paid for it."

A hand landed atop Carl's. "It's enough if you felt down after seeing them."

Carl looked into Grayson's determined gaze and once again his belly fluttered... "Ugh, they're coming our way." Eventually there wouldn't be enough Grayson to hide him from view.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for some awkward conversation—

A damp towel landed over his head.

Carl opened his eyes and blinked. Grayson was holding his towel over both of them like they were in a secret blanket fort. Sunlight filtered through the yellow fabric in a warm glow, and their breaths mingled in the sudden tight space.

Dark eyes stayed on Carl, warm and understanding, with that signature hint of mischief. Like he genuinely wanted to help, but also found the situation somewhat amusing and wanted to tease him. It made it difficult to know how to respond. Squeeze his wrist tightly until that slight smirk disappeared? Or squeeze him gently with a mouthed ‘thank you'?

Carl squeezed midway between tight and gentle and felt Grayson's pulse ticking under his fingers. The rhythmic beat against him while they sat so close made Carl's squeeze feel... intense. He could see the trace of stubble along Grayson's strong jawline.

A moment of brighter sunshine illuminated Grayson's expression—his darkening eyes, his fading smile—

Too much!

Carl ripped his hand away and brought the towel crashing down between them. That was not intended to be a romantic squeeze. Now Grayson would never believe he wasn't interested.

If that wasn't enough to have his heart pounding, his old classmate-lawyers had crossed the beach and were within inevitable spotting distance...

Their heads lifted . . .

They glanced at him—

And looked hurriedly away again.

One pointed towards the water, as if they'd seen something worthy of their attention, and they angled themselves away from Carl towards it. As if... they didn't want Carl to spot them.

That... should be fine. Carl hadn't wanted to be spotted, either.

But . . .

His stomach dove and his throat tightened. He shoved to his feet and stumbled over the sand in his hurry to get to Grayson's ute, and once he was inside, he pressed his forehead against the glass and let it rattle through him as they drove silently back to Berhampore.

"Carl . . ."

"Don't."

"You promised we were a two-way street."

Carl swallowed and continued staring out the window at the houses and the hills flashing by.

Grayson murmured, "Those guys hurt you. It must've made you feel shitty, seeing them again."

Carl's chest ached. "It's not really them. I barely know those two. It's that... recently I feel like I'm not... interesting enough? Don't have enough to offer?" He laughed hollowly and swiped at a sting in his eyes. "If I'm a magazine, I've got no journalistic integrity."

Grayson pulled to a stop at Jason's place, and their pensive breaths thickened the air between them. Carl picked at his blunt fingernails and felt his cheeks and throat burn as Grayson observed him. "I can imagine feeling like that makes you feel lonely."

A violent hiccup raced through Carl and forcing it back down hurt his throat. "We talked about getting a dog and I was stupidly happy to be giving him a kennel, but what's a kennel to free vet care?"

Grayson couldn't know what Carl was on about, but he listened patiently.

Carl shoved a hand through his hair. "My ex, he fell in love with a veterinarian. He was mesmerised by how incredible he was, how smart. And the thing is, Nick really is a decent guy. I get why Pete chose him."

"Wait a sec. Falling for someone has no intelligence measurement like that. It happens if there's a connection. Doesn't matter what the person does for a job as long as there's this strange spark between them. Even if they don't want it and tell themselves it's crazy and they're not ready—they fall anyway."

Carl breathed in, frowning gently. That was all comforting and hopeful, but he wasn't entirely sure his life choices didn't play a role in Pete's decision.

Grayson seemed to sense Carl still needed convincing. He gripped the steering wheel and continued, "I might meet the most intelligent and accomplished person, and still be bored by them; put to sleep after half a conversation. Exhausted from forcing myself to keep up." His fingers started a soft drum over the wheel and he glanced towards Jason's house, swallowing. "Or, I might meet a kind person who enjoys bike rides and hikes and likes to be up early in the morning, and never feel bored."

Carl... got that. If some guy struck up a conversation on, like, intricate details of the middle to late Byzantine period, he'd totally start a smile-and-nod routine while mentally working out his shopping list for the upcoming week. So maybe it made sense that intelligence didn't equal being worthy of attraction?

Thinking it through like this... helped. A chunk of the silly weight on his chest came off and he could breathe a little easier. Carl wagged his finger. "This two-way street thing is gold."

Grayson's lips twitched.

Carl felt his own tick up too.

"I've got a job to get to, but..." Grayson stared into the middle distance, as if struck by a thought, then grimaced and nodded to himself. "What will you do the rest of the day?"

"Leo's coming round later. That's a whole other conversation—"

A groan-chuckle. "Not right now."

A sighing laugh seeped out of Carl as he tried and failed to get his belt to open. Grayson reached over and freed him, their thumbs grazing on the buckle with a static jump. They quickly pulled apart and he clambered out of the car. "Do something fun for yourself," Grayson said after clearing his throat. "Something distracting."

He looked over at Grayson with a smile before he shut the door. "I will. Promise."