Chapter 13

Ryan held the menu, glancing over the top at Graham, working out what he fancied. Him. I fancy him. No, I don't.

Graham was staring intensely at his own menu.

‘Carbs, or no carbs?' Ryan asked, firmly switching off that earlier unwanted thought.

The waiter arrived. ‘Do you want to order drinks?'

Normally Ryan would have water, but he felt buoyant, elated that his mum was happy, that he was spending unplanned leisure time with Graham, so he asked, with a touch of unsureness, ‘Wine?'

Graham lowered his menu. ‘With food. Why not? Let's push the boat, right out.' Graham looked at the waiter. ‘We've just been to the gym. Don't want to undo all our good work.'

‘It's Friday night, treat yourselves,' he said and exchanged a look with Graham. An almost wink.

Something felt odd in Ryan's stomach. An itchy uncomfortableness. He didn't want the cute waiter exchanging almost winks with Graham. He wanted to…no he absolutely bloody well didn't. That was stupid to even consider.

‘You choose,' Graham said.

Ryan picked a mid-priced white. ‘Is white, okay?'

‘Very okay.'

The waiter left.

Very okay?What did he mean by that, Ryan wondered. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Ryan decided to dive in with, ‘I'm going carbs. What about you?'

‘Do you know what, I think I'll go carbs too.' Graham paused. ‘Continue to push the boat, all the way out. What were you thinking?'

‘Steak and chips with fried mushroom.' Ryan thought if he was having carbs, he'd have the best carbs ever.

‘I'll have the same,' Graham said.

The waiter arrived with their wine, opened it, let Ryan sample.

It tasted like chilled, nice, white wine. ‘Great.'

He poured, then asked if they were ready to order.

Ryan took a big swig of wine, to steady his nerves that had appeared from nowhere, for some reason, then gave their order, realised he probably shouldn't have spoken for Graham. A big confident man like Graham was perfectly capable of ordering for himself. Ryan blushed at the mistake, sipped wine to distract himself.

‘How would you like it done?' the waiter asked.

There was an awkward moment when they both said the other should go first, finally Ryan insisted that Graham say his.

‘Medium rare,' Graham said.

‘Well done,' Ryan said, his eyes widening as the wine relaxed him, and he looked forward to biting into the juicy steak and crisp chips.

The waiter left.

‘What got you into your line of work?' Ryan asked, pouring them a second glass of wine each. Wow, well that had gone down quickly!

Graham talked about working in a shop, how he liked to help customers, how he used to spend too long with one customer, until finally he did it with a woman, to ensure she had the perfect outfit for her son's graduation. Then he'd been asked to leave, because he spent too long chatting to customers. So, he left to work somewhere that had a personal shopper service, which he volunteered for, when others didn't want it. A few years of that and then after some C and D grade celebs, he had their quotes and pictures, he set up his own business. Graham's eyes shone when he talked about his work.

It was addictive, compelling, to hear Graham talk so enthusiastically about his profession. Ryan wondered if he'd ever be so joyful about his work. He doubted it.

They had finished the wine. Funny that.

The waiter arrived with their food and took an order for another bottle.

Why not, it was Friday night. ‘You don't have work tomorrow, do you?' Ryan asked, soon pouring them another glass each.

Graham shook his head. ‘Client asked to reschedule.' He lifted his glass full of wine. ‘Friday night!'

Ryan joined in, maybe they were talking a bit loudly, as someone on another table seemed to scrunch up their face, but whatever. Ryan was having a great time. It was exhilarating, the evening so far. He was really enjoying himself, relaxing and the feel-good hormones from the gym were mixing nicely with the light-headedness from the alcohol, giving him the confidence Ryan so often lacked in social situations.

The rest of the meal seemed to pass in a bit of a blur, to Ryan. They might have ordered another bottle of wine, but then again, they might not have. They definitely shared a pudding, both laughing at how they were watching the sugar intake, having had all that wine. There could have been dessert wine, but later, Ryan couldn't remember. They had two spoons and shared one bowl of tiramisu, creamy coffee-soaked sponge that they ate so quickly it was almost like it hadn't been there.

The thing Ryan knew was definitely there was his leg resting against Graham's under the table. Their thighs were touching. Had been since dessert was served. Tentatively, Ryan put his hand under the table, placed it on Graham's thigh. Lightly.

They made eye contact, didn't say anything, just stared at each other. Ryan really wanted this. He thought, so anyway. Ryan's hand moved, until it found Graham's, and he stroked Graham's long finger, using his thumb and index finger to stroke it on both sides, imagining what it would feel like if that wasn't Graham's finger but his…

Then things seemed to blend from one scene, and location, gradually into another, as the evening continued. They were in the restaurant, then they were standing outside in the street, waiting for something. A car arrived. Must have been a taxi.

Graham got in. ‘Thanks for a great evening,' he was saying. The door shut.

For the first time since his mum had left, Ryan didn't feel the elation, excitement, feeling of anything being possible, he'd had since it was only him and Graham. It was because Graham was leaving. And Ryan didn't want that to happen. Ryan banged on the window to stop the car driving off. The window opened, and Ryan climbed in, couldn't manage to fasten up his seatbelt, but it went tight, so someone must have done it. He smiled. Sat next to Graham. He held Graham's hand in the taxi. It felt right, it felt exciting, it felt comforting. They were at a building overlooking water, and the taxi was gone, and then they were in the lift, and there were kisses, and hands on faces, and bodies pressed against the lift, and then they were in Graham's flat. In the hallway, there were more kisses, and slightly biting at faces, and desperate, needy, wanting, nothing else mattered in the world, scrabbling at clothes, until there were none, there was only bare skin, the clothes strewn on the floor. And Ryan was lying on his back, on the hallway floor, and Graham was on top of him, he was kissing Ryan's chest, his nipples, his stomach, and lower, and Ryan's head was swimming, as the drunkenness mixed with the need for this, and he felt a stiffness against his chest, a long hard stiffness, between his pecs, and then Graham was kissing him, wat, warm, hard, needful, and Ryan responded in the same way, but more, then Ryan's stiffness was making him thrust upwards, into nothing, into the air, or was it something, then it was wet and warm, up and down his shaft, around the base, the top, and then Graham gazed up from lower down Ryan's body, smiling, and Ryan let his head roll backwards, and the warm, slickness continued until he thought he was going to go, and he didn't stop, why would he stop such pleasure, and he ran towards the climbing sensation, until the only thing he felt was his hardness, his whole body didn't exist except that part of him, and he emptied himself, with a gasp and a held breath and he and panted, and was sweating and his heart beat faster, and he caught his breath. Then they were in a warmer room, reclining on something softer than the floor, and Graham was on his side, lying down in front of Ryan, there was a coldness, a slickness, a something Ryan didn't know and Graham was nuzzling backwards, pushing himself against Ryan, but he wasn't hard now, he was soft and warm and sleepy, but as his body awoke, his burgeoning hardness wanted to find somewhere warm and slick like it had before, but it couldn't. It was sleeping. Ryan was on his back, with Graham astride, his legs either side of Ryan's torso. Graham's body was moving up and down, and his stiffness was banging on Ryan. On Ryan's stomach, between Ryan's pecs again, Ryan liked that, and he heard a cry and a gasp and then there was stickiness on Ryan's chest, and neck and face, and Graham was pushing down, so they were chest to chest and there was no more stiffness, only happiness and comfortableness, and then Ryan wanted to sleep, and then there was nothing except darkness.

The next morning, Ryan woke, in a room he didn't recognise, in a bed he had no memory of, with a gap on the bed where not long before, someone had been. The sheets were warm, an indent in the pillows. He sniffed the sheets, warm, woody, musky, man-scent.

What happened last night?He remembered dinner with Graham, and the gym, and the sauna and having a hard-on for most of the meal. Of wanting, of needing to do something about it, and the taxi, he felt sad at the taxi….why was that, he wondered…

He rolled over and fell asleep, his head pounding and his eyes itchy with sleep.