“Gone for Christmas then?”
“I’ve been gone every Christmas since the war in Syria kicked off.”
Rhys traced lazy patterns on the back of Jevon’s hand. He wanted to ask more, but at the same time, the thought of Jevon leaving the country in just eight weeks time made him feel sick.Thiswas why he didn’t do relationships. Because life always got in the way and fucked everything up, and he had no idea what to do with the ever-growing, bone-deep affection he felt every time Jevon crossed his mind. Every time they touched.
Kissed.
More.
I can’t do this.
But I need him.
Rhys took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. The pizza place had filled up while they’d eaten and it was kicking. Staff flitted around with trays of food, and the hot guy manning the pizza oven seemed to be in constant motion. Rhys watched him work, absently admiring the flex of his tanned forearms and the concentrated expression that made him equal parts alluring and intimidating. The dude was hot, and Rhys was about to say so when another man approached the chef from behind.
This dude was half the size. Slender and blond, he reminded Rhys a little of Dylan. He climbed up the other man’s back and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. The chef’s answering smile was blinding.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jevon squeezed Rhys’s fingers, breaking into his reverie. “I hung around here a lot when my sexuality first started making itself known.”
“Just to watch them?”
Rhys could understand that. Dylan and Angelo’s relationship made him jealous as hell, and Harry and Joe were so utterly perfect together, Rhys often wanted to puke in their presence, but the moody chef and his elegant partner were a joy to watch. Like the distance between them and Rhys made their love easier to bear.
“Not just them,” Jevon said. “There’s a few queer blokes around here—more than a few, actually—and being around them made me feel normal.”
“You don’t feel normal?”
“I donow, but I didn’t for a while. There were moments when I was so terrified, I couldn’t imagine how it would ever end well.”
“What changed?”
“Lots of things over time. Work, family, relationships. Things that I thought were gospel turned out to be the opposite. My dad being sound was a big factor, and Efe is my best friend in the world, but something has always felt missing. I figured it was just the sex, but then I met you, and... well... it’s more than that.”
Of course it was. Rhys had pictured himself having sex with Jevon so many times, it almost seemed like they’d done it already. But it wasn’t enough. Being with Jevonwasso much more.
A new chef took over at the pizza oven, and the dark-haired man and his partner disappeared. Rhys watched them go, sensing Jevon’s gaze on him but unable to face him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
“I watched them fuck once.”
That got Rhys’s attention. He turned to Jevon and wondered instantly how he’d held out so long. “I’d let him fuck me.”
If Rhys’s candour offended Jevon, it didn’t show. “Which one?”
“The darker dude.”
Jevon shook his head. “It was the other way around.”
“For real?”
“Yup. I didn’t watch it all, so maybe they switched, but what I saw was so sensual and hot, I knew I’d like bottoming... if I ever found the balls to try.”
If. A tiny word that held so much power. Rhys rarely topped, preferring the oblivion of having his own brains screwed out, but he wanted to fuck Jevon. Needed to. Even if it tied a bow around the heartbreak they were surely heading for.
Rhys caught the eye of their server and signalled for the bill. “Let’s get out of here.”
Eight
Being with Rhys was the perfect contradiction. Jevon had never felt more like his true self, but with that peace came the relentless sensation that Rhys wasn’t entirely happy. That he wasn’t happy with Jevon.