AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” George said. He was zipping up his training bag, carefully not looking at Joq. It was clear he was not on board with this dinner, but Joq got the feeling he was trying to walk the middle ground—he seemed to believe he was a phase for Finn and was shoving his own feelings aside because of it and, for that reason, he was telling himself he was in a solid relationship with Joq.
Oh, Joq knew George loved him, but George was in love with Finn too. Joq knew that for a fact now, and he wasn’t going to let it play out anymore.
“I’ll keep him warm for you,” Joq joked.
George went still.
“I’m joking, babe,” Joq said, a bit pissed off.
“Yeah,” George said, gruff. He didn’t look at Joq as he said goodbye and left.
Ever late, Finn’s “It’s me,” came over the intercom at seven thirty.
Joq buzzed the gates open, clasped his tingling hands together. He wrung them out, turned the oven off, and went for the door.
“Finn, hey,” Joq said as he opened it before Finn was up the steps.
Finn smiled up at him. He looked nervous, but relaxed too in the chill way that never seemed to leave him. His hair was mussed and longer than it had been at the start of the season. It looked almost blonder in parts, which was a mystery in the Victorian winter. His smile was close mouthed, eyes wary.
“Hey, Joq. Good to see you,” he replied, ever polite.
“Come in, come in,” Joq stepped aside.
He let the door swing shut with a click and watched Finn toe his shoes off. Finn was a large presence in the entrance of the house. All athletes had that impressive physical presence—the height, the muscles, the zero percent body fat—and Joq was used to it. But Finn’s energy exuded a warm calmness Joq found irritating.
“Smells good,” Finn said around his smile, head tilted so he was looking down at Joq to meet his eyes through the fall of his hair.
“Roast,” Joq said. “Before we get to that, come with me. I want to show you something.”
He moved past Finn and went for the stairs.
“Uhm, what?”
Joq glanced back. Finn was standing still, his socked feet on the carpet just inside the living room, his eyes uncertain around a nervous smile.
Joq laughed. “I’m not going to murder you, I just know George would want you to see this.”
“See what?”
Goddamn kid was pretty fucking suspicious for all his hippy vibe.
“Memorabilia,” Joq gave his best impression of being super impressed by elite athletes and their junk.
But Finn shook his head. “I don’t feel comfortable going upstairs without George here.”
And, wow. Joq had not expected this resistance, or directness. Kid was full of surprises. It made the mean part of Joq flare to life.
“Kid, I’m not going to jump you,” Joq said, a hint of disgust in his voice.
Finn’s eyebrows went up. “I think I can take you if you tried.”
And, alright then. Kid was no pushover. Joq quickly changed tactics; it was an effort to stay nice, but he could do it.
He forced a laugh. “Take a seat,” he waved at the living room. “I’ll bring it down.”
Finn nodded, like he’d won this round, and for a second he looked adorably young—like he was defending the honour of his relationship and fidelity to George and had made that clear. Which he had, Joq supposed as he jogged upstairs and went into his office, but it was the naivety of his youth showing if he thought he could win one battle and win the war.
Finn was perched on the edge of the couch, hands clasped, back erect, the perfect picture of discomfort when Joq came back down. His phone was on the coffee table in front of him.
