Chapter 4

Chapter Four

How are you doing?

Dougie. Why did he always text at such inappropriate moments?

Every time the text came through, it knocked Quinn off his feet. Not because of those romantic clichés, but because every time he thought he was over this man, he came back to remind him of everything they once had.

Quinn stood outside his shop on Castle Street where foundation walls from the thirteenth century met the nineteenth. His shop, Kings & Queens, looked inviting with warm yellow lights, a perfect example of Victorian architecture.

‘You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Daniel Craig, not the man who played Bond, exited the shop. He held his set of keys in his hand, ready to lock up.

‘Oh, yeah, no, fine.' Quinn struggled to find his words. ‘I'm just going to deal with something in the shop. You go home and have a nice evening.'

‘You sure?'

‘I'm sure,' Quinn said. ‘How has today been?'

‘Wonderful. Always wonderful.' Daniel's tote bag swung at his shoulder, full of books. ‘Some reading materials.'

‘That's good,' Quinn said, moving past Daniel to get to the shop entrance. ‘Thanks for your help.'

‘See you soon,' Daniel said, before stopping.

‘What?'

‘Those trousers look good on you.'

Quinn recalled his ordeal with Noah in the graveyard. The hippie trousers struck again.

‘Go home, Daniel. You're tired.'

Daniel saluted, smirking, and headed to wherever it was he lived. Quinn looked at the converted church building and up to his apartment window above his shop, where a lot of nicer clothes waited for him.

The longer he stayed out on the street, the bigger the opportunity for people to see his hippie trousers. He headed into the shop and closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood and taking a deep breath.

The champagne. The spotlight. Noah.

He couldn't think any more about it.

Kings & Queens was his labour of love. Once falling apart, it was now perfect. Queer flags flitted from the ceiling, and across the bookshelves, from trans representation to asexual recognition. Lines of books stacked on oak shelves, reaching up to the ceiling. Good on Daniel Craig to align the books before leaving. Christmas table displays selling A Christmas Carol glittered under the twinkling lights strung between the aisles.

The floor, reinforced varnished wood, creaked under his feet. The place used to be Hay's very own church centuries ago. Now, it was a place of safety for a community Quinn felt needed serving in Hay.

He placed his wet trousers in a paper bag at the foot of his checkout counter.

His phone buzzed again, and the peace and serenity came crashing to the ground. Tense, he looked at the text message on the screen.

I miss you.

Dougie.

Dougie had broken up with Quinn almost six months ago. It had been hard because he left when things started getting tough for Quinn. He didn't share his concerns when Dougie announced he needed to leave. It also didn't help that Dougie left on their one-year anniversary.

Classy.

‘I'm moving,' Dougie declared in this very shop. ‘To Cardiff.'

He said it as though the city was the most foreign, faraway land in the world. Not an hour and twenty minutes away.

‘And I think we should see other people,' Dougie finished.

Quinn couldn't even remember what happened after that. All he could think of was that above them, his apartment was decorated for their one-year anniversary. That night should have been special.

Until Dougie, Quinn had let no one in. Who needed love? He much preferred getting lost in the pages of romance novels. That way, he couldn't get hurt.

He also knew that Dougie had walked all over him.

Quinn was notorious for letting people do that to him. Only Dougie was the one with the heaviest feet.

A defence mechanism, maybe. But he never fought back. He hated confrontation to begin with. Then he doubted his own knowledge when making a point. Yes, it was much better to appease the other person by nodding along and giving them three bags full, sir. And those romance novels let him escape to a world where the men were perfect, and people like him owned their beliefs.

Quinn let Dougie, his first love, step over him on his way out. Six months later, he had moved on and fallen back into the rhythm of life before Dougie.

Now that rhythm was hit with the blues. His phone buzzed.

Cardiff isn't the same without you.

When had he even been in Cardiff with him?

It wasn't like they had any memories there.

His phone buzzed again, and this time an image of Dougie's dick graced his screen.

He exited the text, as if a crowd of people surrounded him and might see him looking at something so inappropriate.

What a way to make an apology.

If that was even what it was.

Who said I miss you and then sent you a dick pic?

Guys like Dougie. Guys like Noah wouldn't do such a thing.

He considered typing back. Maybe saying don't text me again. An eye roll emoji, perhaps. Or just block his number.

These thoughts left his mind as quickly as they entered. He would say nothing, and hope that it would go away. It was something Quinn always did.

His eyes drifted to the counter at the window, lingering on a drawer.

Yes. Everything goes away if you just ignore it.

I'll ignore this.

But could he ignore his trousers? Quinn observed them, complimented by Noah, adored by Ivy. Perhaps they weren't so bad, after all. He'd keep them on. He considered himself calm enough to spend an evening with Ivy. He didn't want to be sitting with her flustered over Dougie and his texts. No, he would put this out of his mind and that would be that. Dougie was horny. He didn't miss him. That was all.

Another message.

Remember this in you?

Quinn ignored the text and left for the pub.