CHAPTER THREE
Sam set three pints on the table and shook a bit of spilt lager off his fingers. He and his mates didn’t always find time to meet at the weekend, but Friday nights at the pub were there for whoever could make it. A full house would be the six of them, but tonight it was only him, Alex and Dave. “What are you two grinning at?” he glanced between them, brows furrowing. They looked far too suspicious for his liking.
Dave snagged his pint and took a long drink before using it to gesture at Alex. “I was just telling him about your new neighbour.”
Alex smirked. “What are the chances, eh?”
“The pair of you can fuck right off.”
Out of the five close mates he had now, Alex was the only one apart from Dave who’d gone to the same school as them. Alex gestured to the stool next to him. “Sit down and get that miserable look off your face. It’s Friday, and for once we’ve all got the weekend off.”
That was true.
Sam shook off the sour mood Whitmore had managed to induce, even after all these years, and took a seat. Hopefully his mates would take the hint and drop the subject. It wasn’t as though it was all that interesting anyway.
As soon as he was settled, pint in hand, Alex slung an arm around his shoulder. “Dave says he’s hot as fuck now, and you want to bang him.”
Choking on the mouthful of beer he’d just swallowed, Sam glared daggers at Dave.
“What?” Dave shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s true. Just because you’re still harbouring some ridiculous school grudge, doesn’t make him any less fuckable.”
Sam opened his mouth to object, but then faltered. Maybe Dave had a point. “So he’s turned out all right. He’s still a tosser.”
“Was a tosser,” Dave added. “And apart from that crap with Nigel, he never did anything that the rest of us didn’t do.”
Rubbing his temples and trying not to rise to the bait, Sam sighed. He really didn’t want to rehash it, not when he was trying to relax after a long week.
“Look.” Alex let go of him and sat back. “Why don’t you pop round, introduce yourself like any good neighbour would.” Sam rolled his eyes, and Alex huffed. “Oh, don’t give me that. You’d have been straight round there if Dave hadn’t told you who it was.”
“It’s possible.”
Okay, fine, it was probably more than likely. A hot guy moves in next door? Of course, he was going to go round and introduce himself. Especially after the scene outside the removal van. But that was before.
“Why don’t you do it anyway? We’re all adults now; school was a lifetime ago. He’s probably a nice guy. And if he’s not,” Alex added at Sam’s scoff, “then what have you lost? Ten minutes out of your day and you get the chance to say, “I told you so,” to me and Dave.”
Sam’s thoughts flitted back to Thursday morning, and he shifted in his seat. Glancing down at his pint so he didn’t have to look Dave in the eyes, he said, “I’ve already spoken to him.”
“When?”
“And?”
Alex and Dave spoke at the same time, and Sam took a sip of his drink, delaying the inevitable. “Thursday morning before work. I bumped into him outside the flat.” He shrugged. “He looked knackered, so God knows what he’d been up to.”
“And?” Alex asked again.
“And nothing.” They stared at him expectantly, and Sam sighed. “He introduced himself. Apparently he goes by Charlie these days. I told him my name, and he remembered me from school.”
Silence.
“That’s it,” Sam said. “He went into the building and I went to work.” More silence, and Sam fidgeted with his glass. “What?”
“Jesus.” Dave laughed and shook his head. “You’ve not seen the guy in about fifteen years, and you didn’t even ask how he was, what he was doing now, or I don’t know, if he fancied catching up over a coffee?”
“Why would I? It’s not like we were mates at school. I hated him.”
“I know, but—”
“And he didn’t exactly rush to ask me either. I don’t know what the big deal is.” Sam rested his elbows on the table, eyes narrowing as he looked at Dave. “Why are you so interested?”
“No reason. I’m just curious. It’s like a blast from the past, and I figured it’d be interesting to know what happened to him after school.”
“You go and take him out for coffee then.”
Dave smirked at him. “Maybe I will.”
Sam frowned, the idea of Dave and Charles Whit—Charlie—chatting irritated him for some reason. Regardless, he managed a smile and waved his almost empty glass under Dave’s nose. “It’s your round.”
WHEN SAM HAD the weekend off work, and that was usually the case more often than not—people weren’t keen on having you in their home at the weekend—he tried to make the most of it. If the weather wasn’t too shit, that usually included a run at some point. Or at least a long walk if he couldn’t be arsed with strenuous exercise.
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. So far November had been especially mild, and the clear blue sky invited him to venture out. Not feeling like donning his running gear, Sam dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, grabbing his coat as he reached the front door. He picked up his wallet as an afterthought—maybe he’d pop in at Costa on the way back and treat himself to a nice coffee.
And maybe cake, too.
The thought had him smiling as he left his flat and headed to the main entrance of the building. He caught sight of movement through the glass panel in the door, and slowed down, squinting to try and make out who was outside.
With his nose almost pressed to the glass, Sam frowned as a familiar figure did some sort of warm-up routine on the grass. He probably shouldn’t be able to recognise Charlie Whitmore from behind, but it was definitely him. Sam was sure of it. Tight-fitting running gear leaving little to the imagination. Cocky bastard.
Sam swallowed and refused to let his gaze linger on the way the black Lycra hugged his thighs and calves like a second skin. If only he didn’t have those shorts on…
As though he felt Sam’s eyes on him, Charlie turned to face him, and instinctively Sam ducked away from the glass and hid behind the wooden part of the door. Oh my God. I’m like some creepy stalker. Again.
Why was he hiding? Why hadn’t he just walked out the door and said hello like a normal person? Had Charlie seen him?
Ugh.
They weren’t at school now.
Squaring his shoulders, Sam lifted his chin and opened the door.
Charlie stopped mid-stretch and looked up, straight at Sam. “Thought I saw someone hiding behind the door.” His smile was friendly enough, but Sam noticing a distinct mocking expression in his eyes.
Wanker.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Sam blurted, fidgeting on the spot under Charlie’s scrutiny. “I was checking something on my phone.” Ugh, he was so lame. “Didn’t notice anyone out here.” Stop talking, Sam.
Charlie raised an eyebrow, and yeah, he knew Sam was talking bollocks, but just shrugged. “Okay.”
Why did he have to be so reasonable? If their positions were reversed, Sam would have called him out on it for sure. That soft unassuming “Okay” irritated Sam more than if Charlie had called him a liar. At least then he could have answered back, maybe get rid of some nervous tension with a few choice words, but now all he could do was offer a somewhat strained smile.
The silence stretched into awkward territory, and Sam was about to make his escape when Charlie bent over and started stretching God knew what muscles—he just had his arse in the air and Sam stared at it, mesmerised.
Despite the fact Charlie was a knob, Sam could appreciate that his bum was a thing of beauty.
The black material of his shorts stretched taut across his arse cheeks, and for a second Sam wondered if they could take the pressure. Unfortunately, they held, and Sam unwittingly let out a sigh. It was times like this he wished he had the willpower to eat healthier and exercise more. Not that he was that out of shape—work kept him looking all right—and generally speaking, he was happy with his body. But when presented with an extra fine specimen, he got a little wistful.
But that would pass as soon as he got to Costa and saw their cake selection.
“You off somewhere or just enjoying the view?” Charlie’s amused tone startled him, and Sam’s gaze snapped to his, cheeks heating, and lost for words. Charlie straightened, half-turned and swept a hand out behind him at the farmers’ fields in the distance. “It’s not bad for a housing estate. I was pleasantly surprised when I came to see the flat.” He had a grin a mile wide, and Sam narrowed his eyes.
Two could play at that game.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, it’s okay, I guess. I’ve seen better though.”
Charlie laughed, and Sam just knew he was laughing at him. And why wouldn’t he? I’m acting like a five-year-old, for fuck’s sake.
Suddenly wishing he’d had a lie-in instead this morning, Sam cut his losses and said, “Anyway, I was actually headed out for a walk.” With a small wave he hoped came off as polite but not friendly, he added, “Enjoy your run,” and marched past towards the cycle path.
“Thanks,” Charlie called after him, and Sam felt the weight of his gaze all the way down the path until he turned the corner and out of sight. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for not looking round once.
“MORNING,” DAVE GREETED Sam as he opened the door and got in his van. He was far too cheery for that early in the morning. “Wow, you look like shit.”
“Thanks.” Sam rolled his eyes, but Dave wasn’t wrong. He let his head fall back against the seat rest. “I was up half the night with this stupid cough.” It’d sort of crept up on him throughout the day, and by evening, he’d developed this annoying tickly cough that woke him at what seemed like every bloody hour.
When they pulled up to the traffic lights, Dave turned to him, expression serious. “You sure you’re up for it today?”
“Yeah.” Sam waved a hand at him. “I’ll be fine. We’re almost done anyway.” They’d been fitting a new bathroom for the past couple of weeks or so. Only the finishing touches were left, and Sam just wanted to get it out of the way. He didn’t have time to be off sick. Sometimes being self-employed sucked.
“Hopefully we can get this wrapped up in a couple of hours and you can take the afternoon off.”
“We’ll see.” Closing his eyes for a moment, Sam sighed. He knew from experience that things could go wrong at the last minute. If he started looking forward to an afternoon in bed, then it was bound to take them all day.
“Guess who came out about five minutes before you?”
The words “I have no idea” were on the tip of his tongue, but then Sam noticed the grin Dave wasn’t even trying to hide. He groaned. “What did you do?”
“Nothing bad. Calm down. Charlie came out, so being the polite and friendly person that I am, I got out and introduced myself.”
Ugh. “And did he remember you?”
“Oh yeah, straight away.”
Sam glanced over at him, not sure why that irritated him. “Is that it?”
“No.” Dave’s tone was patient, as though talking to a child, and Sam sighed again.
“Sorry. I’m just tired.”
Dave laughed but didn’t contradict him. “Anyway, we got chatting, and I invited him to the pub on Friday.”
“What? Why?” Friday was the night he got to relax with his friends. They didn’t need Charlie Whitmore coming along and sucking the joy out of everything.
Dave rolled his eyes. “Because he’s just moved to this part of Bristol, he’s your next-door neighbour, and we know him from school.”
“I know, but—”
“You can relax anyway. He said thanks, but he already had plans for the weekend.”
Sam idly wondered what those plans might be, but for Dave’s benefit, he grunted out a response. “That’s too bad.”
“That’s what we thought too, so we arranged to have a catch up over coffee tomorrow morning.” Glancing over at Sam with a smirk, he added, “You should join us. I know you’re free.”
Sam had a ton1 of things to do, he was ill, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to join them. With a cough for emphasis, he said, “I’ll probably be in bed.”
“I’m sure we could move it to the afternoon.”
“Yeah, but then I’ll be picking up my van.” Which wasn’t a lie. It’d been in for a service, which was why Dave had picked him up.
Dave eyed him suspiciously. “Fine, if you’re so hell-bent on avoiding him, I’ll drop it.”
Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I know I’m being a dick. Apparently, the thought of him still irritates me even after all this time.”
“Are you sure that’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you didn’t know it was him, you thought he was hot and…,” he trailed off, meaning obvious.
Shifting in his seat, Sam frowned. “I don’t know.” He thought back to yesterday morning and cringed. “Something about him makes me act like a complete arse. I’m not sure me coming for coffee is the best idea, that’s all.”
“Oh?” Dave shot him a look, eyebrow raised, and Sam realised he’d used the present tense. Bollocks. “Anything you want to tell me?”
No, but Sam told him anyway.
He finished his story as they pulled up in front of the house they were working on, and Dave had a full-on grin by that time.
“Oh you should definitely come. I could do with a good laugh.”
Sam smacked him on the arm, then sighed, resigned. “Maybe you’re right.” Holding onto a grudge over something that happened in school was possibly taking things too far. People did change. Although not totally sold on the idea, Sam pushed his misgivings aside. “Fine, I’ll join you for a coffee. If he’s still a wanker, then like Alex pointed out, I get to say, “I told you so,” and can go back to avoiding him.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dave shook his head at him, but reached for the door handle, dropping the subject much to Sam’s relief. “Come on, then. Let’s see if we can’t get this wrapped up by lunch.”
NATURALLY, THE DAY dragged on, niggly last-minute problems taking far longer than they should. By the time Dave dropped him home, it was close to four o’clock, and Sam felt awful. He unlocked his front door, already picturing his bed, and was halfway through the hall when he heard a faint scratching sound coming from the living room.
Curious, he left his keys on the small side table and went to investigate.
“Of fucking course.” Sam stopped in the middle of the room, frowning at the unwelcome guest sat outside his window staring at him. Sam stared back, neither of them looking away until the blue-grey cat yawned. It stretched so its paws were on the glass of his patio door, then started a very lacklustre scratching, as though it knew there was probably no hope of being let in, but it was still going through the motions.
Sam scoffed at the feeble attempt. “Yeah, that’s right. No way are you coming in here.” Christ, Whitmore had been in less than a week and already his cat was causing trouble. As if hearing him, the cat rubbed up against the glass, and Sam laughed. “That’s so not going to work on me.” It didn’t matter how cute it looked with its blue eyes and big pointy ears—he may not be a cat lover, but he could grudgingly admit the thing was cute as cats go—it wasn’t coming inside.
He chanced a look up at the sky. Only a smattering of clouds marred the blue, and it wasn’t even all that cold out. Clearly, Whitmore had seen fit to leave his cat outside, so it must be used to it. Anyway, none of it was Sam’s problem. He was about to give the cat a wave before realising how utterly ridiculous and childish that was and, instead, just turned around and left him to his glass rubbing.
As soon as he slipped into bed, he felt a million times better, the relief at not having anywhere to be the rest of the day already sucking him under. His mind snaked to thoughts of the following day and the coffee he’d agreed to, but Sam shut that down straight away. He needed to sleep, not worry about all the awkwardness that was bound to happen when they met up with Whitmore. That train of thought averted, he was out like a light in minutes.