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“I,” Joq hesitated, images accosting him of the absolute shitshow his life was, of watching George falling in love with another guy. But Chris wasn’t George. And this was a hook-up. A good hook-up. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” Chris breathed out.
Joq frowned. “I’m not giving you much here.”
“You’re giving me everything I want,” Chris replied, so sure of himself.
Joq shook his head. “Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
“You will.”
Chris rocked back on his heels and smiled, something shy and pleased about it.
It made Joq’s heart thump and nerves flutter in his stomach.
“Alright, well, I better?”
“Yeah, yeah, course,” Chris stepped back, still smiling.
“Bye, Chris.”
“Later, Joaquin.”
Joq made himself shut the door. He leaned against it like a dramatic heroine and listened for Chris’ footfalls. It took a minute, but eventually, he heard him leaving.
Cat. He was buying a cat. He was doing that. It wouldn’t interfere with his sail around the world plan because he’d seen people with their cats onboard. Perfect.
His phone dinged.
He went into his room, scooped it up and read the message on the home screen.
Thanks xx
Joq groaned and went over to the window.
Chris was waiting by what looked like a latest model BMW SUV—Jesus, what did he actually do?—smiling up at Joq’s apartment.
Joq looked back at his phone and felt sick with nerves when he thought about how to reply. He didn’t get what was wrong with him. He wasn’t this guy.
He sent a thumbs up and cringed.
As he watched Chris looking at the notification and smiling, he felt butterflies; but it was chased by that same desire to flee.
Later that morning, Joq got to the shelter and the woman raised an overly plucked eyebrow at him when he told her the cat he wanted to see.
“You want that one?”
“Yes,” he replied steadily. How bad could she be?
Several hours later, he had a cat and, it would appear, he’d lost access to his bedroom—the feral maniac hissing bloody murder when he so much as cracked the door open.
Well, he didn’t mind sleeping on the couch.
9
“What’s with you?” Brendan asked, exasperated but slightly disinterested, which was code for: I actually care about you, asshole, tell me why you’re being an indecisive wanker over something as simple as a fucking logo design.
Chris threw his pen on the boardroom table, watched it roll over the designs spread everywhere, and heaved a sigh.
