“Fucking amazing!”
Chapter 11
Harvey
This was going so badly. I had a handle on it, but the moment Killian burnt his finger, everything went to shit.
Unable to move, I went into panic mode, paralysed, but Killian was calm, even though I could tell he was hurting. I should have known nothing would go to plan. I’d overslept, then the call with Julie.
I’d sat on my bed for longer than I should have, debating whether to call the whole thing off, but by the time I’d decided it was worth the risk, time was running away from me.
I was almost done, then he arrived, and if he thought I was flustered because of the meal, he was dead wrong.
He strolled into the kitchen as if he’d been there forever. He’d gazed around the room, taking in the old, battered cupboards and the electric oven I’d never replaced. Why should I? It worked, albeit a little temperamental.
What was it about him that made me put all my fears aside and want to try? I’d never felt that way about anyone before. All theagony I’d harboured as a young teen until now had left me with the notion that loving a man, hell, even looking at a man in any way other than platonically, was wrong.
Killian threw all those notions out of the window.
He was beautiful, and when he sang, my knees weakened, and my heart swelled. I hadn’t felt that way since I’d seen my parents dance, but then all that had been snatched away, and I was left empty inside. Nothing since had even come close to filling the void.
Until now.
The more I saw him, the more I wanted to know.
My skin still tingled, my clothes so fucking tight that I wanted to rip them off, and the urge to slice into my skin still lingered, but he was telling me with his actions that it could happen and that I wouldn’t burn in hell for all eternity.
With his encouragement, I dished up the food and carried it through to the dining room. He ate with gusto, as if it were the best thing he’d tasted in forever. Was his joke about Pot Noodles true? I was thinking not.
But my hunger had deserted me. I poked and prodded at the food, taking forever to chew the smallest amount. It wasn’t bad, probably one of my best, but I was nauseous.
I ate a little more of the sticky toffee pudding, and again, Killian ate like a starving man, throwing his spoon into the bowl once he was done.
“It’d be rude of me to lick it, wouldn’t it?” He winked, and the smile that turned my insides to jelly was back.
“I mean, you can. Or you could eat mine if you wanted to?”
He chuckled, and I pushed my bowl towards him. “You eat it. You’ve barely eaten anything tonight. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look. “I know this has been difficult for you. I don’t know exactly whatkeeps you locked away in this house, but there is so much more to life for you to enjoy.”
“I’m not sure you’d understand if I told you.” How could he? He was free to be who he was.
“Try me, Harv.”
Why did I love it when he called me Harv? I’d always been Harvey, or Harvey Barton if Mum was pissed with me.
How much to tell him? I barely knew him, but I also knew that I could trust him with my story. How could that be in such a short space of time?
He didn’t scream, ‘Trust me’ when you saw him. He shouted, ‘Look at me,’ and I’d certainly been doing that a lot.
I gazed down at my hands, at the torn fingernails and the shredded cuticles, and began to talk.
“Mum said I was always a lonely child, preferring one, maybe two, close friends. I remember this one kid. Patrick was his name. We’d sit together at break time, sit next to each other in class. He was the best friend ever, and then one day, he didn’t come to school, nor the next, or the next.”
“What happened to him?”
I shrugged. “His parents moved away, and he was gone. After that, I didn’t really bother with friends. I hated how his leaving had made me feel.”
“How old were you?”