Chapter 1

‘You're doing what?' Ryan asked.

His mum was perched on a stool by the kitchen island. ‘Don't be like that. I thought you'd be happy for me.' She held his hands, stared into his eyes. ‘Tell me you're happy for me? Please.'

Ryan's heart squeezed for her. He was standing in the kitchen of the family home he'd been brought up in. Had a very privileged upbringing thanks to his actor mum, and TV presenter dad. He was expecting her to tell him she had a big part in an American movie, the big break into Hollywood she'd always hoped for but had never quite happened. Not that she was getting re-married.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, how to handle this? He loved his mum, and wanted her to be happy, it was just that after one divorce, he hoped she'd have learned marriage wasn't worth bothering with. ‘I am happy.' He swallowed, bit his bottom lip. ‘Who is he?'

She smiled.

Good, so the lie about being happy for her was worth it. He felt a bit better.

‘He's my driver,' she said. ‘We've known each other for ages. For years, he's worked at one of the studios where I've been doing that daytime TV chat show. He's been there longer than me actually. Since he was in his twenties, so he's worked there for nearly thirty years. He's been taking me to work for decades. Since me and your dad were together.'

Interesting. Ryan raised an eyebrow. That made this man in his fifties, about a decade older than his mum. Feeling less positive now, Ryan blinked.

‘Nothing untoward, of course. Back then, he was married. We both were.' She looked away for a moment.

The pain at the divorce from his dad obviously still hurt. She'd said it had been on the rocks for a while and luckily his dad had divorced her before meeting his now husband, Matt.

Ryan swallowed. It still caught him unawares, remembering his parents were not only divorced, but his dad was married to a man Ryan's age. It happened, of course. Just Ryan didn't expect it to happen to them.

‘Your dad is very happy with Matt. Can't you be happy for me. Dave is going to make me very happy. I know he will.'

How a divorced driver who was ten years older than his mum, would make her happy, Ryan had no idea. But she seemed to think he would. With care, he asked, ‘How long has he been single?' Was he a serial womaniser, or cheated on his ex. Did he have some weird thing about his mum, sort of celebrity stalking, but allowed because he worked with her. Anything was possible. He'd read that one of the women from ABBA had been in a relationship with a man who'd stalked her. Stranger than fiction, right.

‘Few years,' his mum said. ‘At fifty, he got divorced. Said it was the best birthday present he'd ever had. So, three years ago now.'

He sounded great. A real role model. Someone Ryan should look up to. Not. He stared at his mum.

She was looking at him with that pleading, sad look, she really wanted him to get on board with this but he just couldn't. ‘I know what you're thinking, he's marrying me for money.'

He hadn't been thinking that, but he bloody well was now. ‘Why did he get divorced?' Felt an easy place to start, putting aside the gold digger aspect for one moment.

‘Kids left home. Two of them. Almost the same age as you and Sophie. We used to talk about our children on my way to the studio. Friendly man.'

Yeah, he bet this bloke was friendly. To the woman who had been married to one of the highest paid TV presenters in the UK, and who herself was a well-known UK TV actress. Turn on one of the channels showing older British dramas and you couldn't escape seeing his mum's face, from decades ago, playing a wife, girlfriend, mother, or even a woman in a bonnet and big dress running to get into a horse carriage.

‘So, what happened?' Ruan asked, feeling his temper fraying.

‘The children flew the nest; he and his wife were knocking about the place alone. He was at work; she'd got herself a job doing something or other. And they…' She shrugged. ‘Drifted, is what he said. They were living their own lives, perfectly fine, but not doing much together. Anything at all, towards the end, he said. They used to holiday together, but that tailed off. Said they'd sit at the restaurants and have nothing to say to each other. So, they knocked that on the head, he told me, pretty soon after.' She looked at him. ‘Come on, it's not the first time a couple have divorced like this. He's a good man. Honest. Simple. Plain and straightforward.'

This prospective husband sounded like a tub of plain yoghurt, but Ryan didn't say so. ‘Isn't it a bit…' He trailed off. Couldn't think of the right word to say without upsetting her. Slushy was what he meant. A bit sad, for two people their age falling in love again. A bit much. A bit unrealistic.

She shook her head, tutted, jumped off the stood and made coffee with the expensive shiny machine. She sniffed, lifted her head, still facing her back towards him. ‘I know what you're thinking.'

He'd hurt her. Brilliant. Upset his own mum. Didn't mean to. Never did, but he was protective of her and didn't want some random nobody taking her for a ride. ‘I'm just looking out for you.'

She turned, wiped tears from her cheeks, handed him a coffee. ‘You think there's no fool like an old fool. Don't you?'

Basically, in not so many words, yes. He looked at the floor, couldn't make eye contact with her. ‘Look, everyone deserves love. Whoever, and whatever age they are. It's just—'

‘You can't bear the thought of your mum having a sex life, is that it?'

It wasn't what he'd been thinking, but it definitely was now. He knew it happened. She'd been seeing some bloke last year, said it wasn't anything serious. Just a bit of fun – her eyes had twinkled at that and Ryan knew exactly what she meant. In some ways that was easier, because there hadn't been any danger of him getting his hands on what his mum had. Or ever needing to refer to him as a step-dad.

Ugh.

He shook his head. ‘I'm not gonna lie, I don't love thinking about that. But it's the same with Dad. I know he and Matt love each other, but I don't need to consider it with much more detail than that. I want you to be happy. But I don't want anyone taking you for a mug. Taking the piss out of you.' Financially, was unsaid, but he was sure she understood.

She took a sip of coffee, put her hand on one hip. ‘I was not born yesterday. I had boyfriends before your dad. I've had a few since actually. But this Dave, he's the first man who I can be myself with. He's not after Julia Lopez the Actress, he just wants the woman who he drives to work.'

‘At the TV studio. Being on daytime TV to three to four million viewers a day. It's hardly like he's dropping you off at Tesco, is it Mum?'

She shrugged, looked away, finished the small cup of coffee. ‘I can't be someone else. I can't pretend I'm not Julia Lopez from the television. I've gone out with men who've only been interested in me because of who I am.'

‘Have you? Who? When?'

She shook her head. ‘Never you mind. I spotted what they were after from miles away. Dave is different. Trust me, I know what I'm doing.'

He sighed. If she'd not told him about anyone else, she was dating, except the man last year who was just a bit of fun, then possibly this was it. The real thing. Love.

She held his forearms, looking into his eyes. ‘I want you to meet him. Will you do that for me?'

Another sigh. For her, he would. ‘Suppose so. But I'm not calling him Dad.'

‘Wouldn't expect you to. And I don't think he'd be too happy either. He has his own kids. Who I've yet to meet. We both kept it to ourselves until, we were sure. Now we're telling our families.' She made a face. ‘Nervous or what. Step mum. Nice.'

So, it was serious. He nodded. ‘Fine.'

‘Bring a girlfriend. You do have one now, don't you? Handsome man like you. I don't understand why you don't have to beat them off with a stick.'

He shook his head. No girlfriend. Not before, not now, and not likely in future.

‘Nothing going on in that department?' she asked.

He blushed.

‘Didn't you get serious with some girl at uni? I'm sure Sam told me, that time you both stayed here that summer between your second and third years.'

It was the summer that Sam, Ryan's best friend in the whole wide world, had started seeing a woman. But Ryan didn't think she was right for him and so they decided to move away from the university town in Staffordshire, back to London for some fun. Ryan acknowledged now that he had an ulterior motive, that being a touch of jealousy about the woman spending time with Sam, when Sam was Ryan's wing man, and had been right from the first day of the first term, when they were in halls of residence together, and on the same course.

‘Fizzled out,' Ryan said.

‘Shame. She sounded perfect for you. How is Sam getting on, now he's working?'

They were both on the same graduate training scheme at Soleil, a French manufacturer of luxury electric vehicles. Did the academic bits together, but were working in different departments, located in separate offices. ‘Loving it. Like me.'

‘Is it just him, or does he have a brother? I remember you saying his parents weren't around. I wanted to mother him, feed him up.'

That had been why she'd happily agreed to them spending that summer at the house he stood in now. Great days. Long summer's evenings, hanging out together. ‘Sam doesn't have a girlfriend either,' Ryan blurted, as if it made any difference to why he himself didn't have one.

‘I don't want you turning out like your dad. He was a bloody workaholic and look where that got us.' She rolled her eyes.

‘I'm meant to be a workaholic. I'm starting out. I want to learn as much as possible. Be like a sponge and absorb everything. Get the best job. Earn all the money. How else am I meant to afford designer clothes and the newest Apple gadgets?'

She smiled. ‘So, you'll meet him? Dave?'

Ryan nodded, hugged her, holding her tightly. This house, his mum, were the only parts of his childhood that had seemed to stay the same. And now his mum was moving on, changing, and what would be left?

‘Staying for dinner?' she asked.

He shrugged.

‘Don't strain yourself, will you?' She opened the fridge. ‘I know you're going to like Dave. He's sort of adrift with his style. A bit old-fashioned. Mid-fifties and he's…I've suggested he have a makeover. Not makeup, but you know, like those shows, where they get the person a new wardrobe, haircut, all that. I've been recommended somebody who's the best in London.'

‘Great,' he said, not really meaning it, but looking forward to dinner with his mum all the same.

She seemed really happy over dinner, talking about this Dave bloke, convinced Ryan would really love him. Which made Ryan more disinclined to do so. Because he was stubborn like that.

In the car on his way home, Ryan decided it couldn't be that bad. If this man made his mum happy then who was he to argue? It was the dating thing that he returned to. The longer he went without a girlfriend the more people found it suspicious. But he just wasn't interested. Not in a relationship. Seemed all destined to end, just like his parents' so called perfect marriage. Relationships were for suckers and Ryan definitely wasn't one of those.

He arrived home, hoping the light would be on, signalling Sam was there.

No. Oh well. Living with Sam had been an easy decision, they did everything together anyway, lived together the whole time at uni. It was a shame they weren't working at the same office, but Sam was specialising in aerodynamics, and body shape design, whereas Ryan was interested in power, electric, fuel efficiencies and that sort of thing. Still, they saw plenty of each other most evenings.

He removed his shoes, then went into their small flat.

Some people had commented on them being like a couple and Ryan was sensitive about that. Sam wasn't that way inclined; he always had a girl on the go. Ryan felt prickly about it because of his dad. Him and his dad both being gay, that would seem a bit weird…wouldn't it?

He opened a bottle of lager, sat on the sofa and channel surfed, nothing on. Picking up his iPad he clicked to the tech magazine he subscribed to, wondering if there were any must-have gadgets, he could treat himself to.

The chances of father and son both being gay, that's gotta be one in a million, hasn't it? He flicked the next page, read a review about a webcam. Couldn't pay attention.

Not about Sam, because they were like brothers, it made him feel funny even thinking about it, but Ryan had a feeling he'd ignored ever since that family holiday ten years ago.

He didn't mind seeing women, dating them, taking them out, making a big show of it, but when they got serious, he bailed. He also wasn't that into the sex side of things. He only did it occasionally when he was expected to, but before the women became too close, started wanting it regularly, wanting him to… he'd say it was all too much, too serious, too emotional and then he'd dump them.

Harrison, was his name: the swimming pool lifeguard at a holiday village. Ryan and his family had stayed in a lodge in the forest. They went swimming during the day. His parents had taken their devices off them, made them play bloody board games in the evening, they weren't allowed to even watch television. It was stupid and ridiculous.

Ryan was just eighteen and felt too old for family holidays. He had his own car, a seventeenth birthday present from his parents and they'd not let him drive there in it, waste of petrol when he could travel in the family car.

Earlier that night, he'd escaped from another round of bloody Monopoly, walked to the swimming pool, hung about buying sweets from the vending machines. Got chatting to Harrison, who'd seen him earlier with his family.

Harrison was the same age as Ryan had been. Mature for his age. Pale ginger hair, light skin, beard, worked out. They got talking about the gym at the holiday village, how most people didn't have a clue, tried to lift the heaviest weights first time, ended up injuring themselves.

‘Tomorrow night,' Harrison said, ‘if you can get out, me and some mates are going for a drive after work. Come along. If you want.' He said it like it was nothing, he didn't care either way.

Ryan did. He wanted to spend more time with Harrison. He wasn't sure why, but when he decided he liked someone, he sort of became a bit obsessed with them, very quickly developed really close friendships. Needed them.

They agreed when to meet the following evening.

Without his phone, it was like olden times, how his parents had said they met with friends. He needed to stick to the time.

The following evening, they were at a restaurant in the centre of the holiday village, talking about how great the holiday was.

Ryan said, ‘I need to go.'

‘Why?' his dad asked with a frown. ‘I've not taken a week off work, we've both' he looked at Julia ‘taken a week off work for you to disappear. We're only here for seven nights.'

‘Who is it?' his mum asked. ‘Is it the girl you were talking to when we went swimming?' Her face lit up.

This told him that was the right answer. He looked away, tried to blush. ‘Might be.'

‘Let him go. You never know, this might be his first girlfriend.'

His sister, Sophie laughed. ‘This, I've got to see!'

His dad shrugged.

His mum patted his arm. ‘Be back at the lodge, by ten.'

Ryan huffed. ‘I'm not seven years old!'

‘You're still living under our roof; you stick to our rules.' His dad stared at him.

Ryan knew he'd say that. Could have said it at the same time as his dad did. If he got back late, what were they going to do, ban him from having his phone? Not let him watch TV? This holiday was like some ridiculous boot camp for misbehaving children, nothing could make it much worse.

He stood, then left.

Harrison was in his car behind the swimming pool building. ‘I thought you were bailing on me.'

Ryan got in. ‘Where now?'

Harrison started the engine, left the holiday village and drove them into a nearby wood, where he parked and switched the lights off.

‘What about the others?' Ryan asked.

‘They're coming later.'

Something felt off. No, not quite off, but not as Ryan had expected. He didn't feel in danger, he was big enough to look after himself. He didn't get psychopath vibes off Harrison, but there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Harrison reached over to the back seat, brought two bottles of beer, opened them and gave one to Ryan.

They clinked them, toasted and sat in silence.

Ryan wondered about him driving later, but decided not to worry about that. One beer was nothing.

They talked about Harrison's job, Ryan wanting to go to university, he added that he found his sister irritating.

‘Yes,' Harrison said, ‘I do too. Girls aren't really worth it.' He opened the glove compartment, leaning across, his arm lightly brushing Ryan's legs. He lit a roll up cigarette, but it wasn't just tobacco, it was a spliff. Casually offered it to Ryan.

Ryan was definitely worrying about how they'd get back, if Harrison was stoned and drunk.

‘Village is only round the corner. You can walk it if you don't want me to drive you.' Harrison said it as if he'd read Ryan's mind and wanted to reassure him all was fine.

Ryan took the spliff, inhaled, coughed, remembered why he didn't smoke, and felt light headed. He'd done it a few times at school, parties, never bought it himself, but at a party it was all right. Took the edge off.

The next part remained fuzzy in Ryan's memory. It was a decade ago, but also, he'd been a bit drunk and definitely stoned. He'd felt lightheaded and relaxed. Now he wasn't worrying about Harrison driving, he was leaning into the experience: enjoying the conversation, the intensity of it being just the two of them, like at the start of a best friendship.

They talked about sex and drinking and smoked some more of the spliff. Then they were discussing why they went to the gym. Harrison asked Ryan to feel his muscles on his forearms. They were hard.

Something funny happened to Ryan, a tingly sensation in his groin he'd not experienced before, not with the girls he'd kissed and fooled around with as a teenager.

Harrison lifted his T-shirt, was talking about how he wanted a six-pack, told Ryan to touch, see how hard it was.

Ryan was fascinated with the smooth stomach, how the hair became thicker running down the middle in line with Harrison's navel, then how it was thinning out to the sides. He touched it. Smooth hair, hard muscle.

Harrison held Ryan's hand there, then took a drag on the spliff, put it to Ryans lips.

Ryan opened his mouth, making eye contact with Harrison, then inhaled, shut his eyes, stopped thinking and decided he'd just do, go with what happened. If something didn't feel right, he'd stop.

Harrison rubbed the hard bulge in Ryan's jeans.

Ryan enjoyed it, it didn't feel right, but it didn't feel wrong, so he didn't stop him.

Then he unzipped Ryan's jeans, reached inside his underwear and grabbed his hard-on.

It was as if all the air in Ryan's body disappeared. The relief at his erection not being constrained, the tightness of Harrison's hand gripping around it, felt wonderful. He shut his eyes, it didn't feel wrong, it felt right. Exciting.

Harrison's hand guided Ryan's onto his own erection, he unzipped himself, then placed Ryan's hand so it was gripping his cock, the same as Harrison did to Ryan's.

They sat in silence, their fingers formed an O around each other's hard docks, slowly pulling up and down, in time with each other.

Ryan's tingling spread through his balls, up his stiff shaft, and he wanted Harrison to go faster, so he went faster on Harrison's cock. He kept his eyes shut, it felt better, easier to ignore what was happening and just feel it through his body.

Then Harrison was using his mouth, not to kiss Ryan's lips, but on Ryan's erection. It was warm, and slick and moving up and down his shaft. It felt better than his own hand. He thrust his hips upwards, kept his eyes shut, held his arms above his head.

Harrison stopped, then guided Ryan's hand back onto his cock.

Opening his eyes, a little, Ryan saw that it stood proud, upright, ginger hair sprouting around the base, the head was shiny, rounded like a mushroom. Ryan found it fascinating. Was mesmerised by it. Probably the spliff and the beer. He wanted to do what Harrison had done to him, but it felt a bit…gay. Not that Harrison had said he was, they'd not said anything for a long time.

Ryan leaned forwards, examined Harrison's hard-on close up. If he put it in his mouth, it would mean he was gay. Wouldn't it? And he couldn't be gay. Because he wasn't like that. He didn't wear the clothes they wore, the music they liked, the things they enjoyed. He was a proper man, into cars and engineering and bodybuilding and all the manly stuff.

Except, at that moment, his head swimming slightly, and the scent of something salty, possibly cock, and Harrison's breath deep, Ryan wanted it. So. Damned. Much.

But that would mean…No. He sat upright, shaking his head. ‘Can't. Don't wanna. I'm not. Don't mind it, if others are. Doesn't bother me. But I'm not.'

Harrison shrugged, put Ryan's hand so it gripped his own shaft, gently pulling it up and down, showing Ryan what he wanted.

They had more of the spliff, more beer and carried on playing for quite a while. Ryan shut his eyes, pulling up and down Harrison's shaft.

Harrison's lips and mouth were doing things to Ryan he'd never imagined possible. He didn't want to watch what was happening, but feeling it was fucking fantastic. Finally, Ryan cried out with pleasure as he finished in Harrison's mouth, who then swallowed.

Ryan opened his eyes a little, saw a cheeky grin on Harrison's face as he looked up. Ryan squeezed his hand, and shook and realised the stickiness on his fingers was Harrison, he'd already gone.

Done.

There was silence. The car smelt of spliff, lager, sweat and the milky saltiness of come – normally only something Ryan smelled when he was alone.

Harrison wiped himself with tissues from the glove compartment, handing Ryan some so he could do the same.

They pulled their clothes back in place.

Harrison started the engine.

Ryan opened the door. ‘Gonna walk. Clear my head.' He slammed the door and walked back alone. Did that really just happen? Harrison's stickiness on his hand confirmed it had. The desire to taste it, and the repulsion at what they'd done, warred deep within Ryan. He wiped his hand on some dewy grass, firmly putting his hand in his pocket for the walk back.

He avoided Harrison for the rest of the holiday. Didn't go swimming in case he bumped into him.

After the holiday, Ryan was driving his new car and his mind floated back to that night in Harrison's car, how he'd enjoyed it, but felt repulsed at himself, how he wanted it again and also wished it had never happened. How he'd been fascinated by Harrison's hard-on, wanting to, but unable to suck it. Both those feelings had existed at the same time within him. And one minute he was driving and the next his car was in a ditch, having missed a tree by a few feet. He was no longer in the car with Harrison, but in his own car, wondering what the bloody hell had happened. He told his family he was distracted by the radio, because he couldn't tell them the real reason. Sophie thought it was funny he'd written off his birthday present, before he'd even had the car a year, but he wondered if she'd find it so amusing if she knew the reason why.

During the first term at university, he was seeing a girl who lived in his halls of residence. He liked how she took charge, told him what to do. They dated for a few months until what she wanted was what Ryan had been fearing. He did the deed, concentrated hard on what he was doing, made himself try and enjoy it, but it was the most awkward experience ever. She dumped him soon afterwards, saying he wasn't as into her as she was into him. It was true and Ryan was relieved.

Ryan didn't want to wait up for Sam to come home. Felt a bit too co-dependent, clingy. They were best friends and Ryan liked it that way. Shaking off the niggling feeling the memory of the family holiday had resurfaced, he returned to the tech magazine on his iPad, until his eyes felt heavy and finally, he went to bed.