AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lake grinned. Grady was getting it. “Precisely.”
Grady just shook his head and then went inside. He left the door open, so Lake figured that meant “come in.”
“What kind of drink are we talking?” he asked as he followed Grady inside. “I can’t have coffee this late, or I’ll never sleep. Hot chocolate?”
“I was thinking more whiskey,” Grady said. “But I probably have hot chocolate in here somewhere.”
Whiskey would mean that Lake couldn’t drive home, but hey, he was used to waking up in weird places on New Year’s Day.
Lake eyed the four moving boxes that were stacked neatly by the door. “Spring cleaning?” he asked. It was still summer, but spring cleaning was an all-year-round activity for some.
“No,” Grady said shortly.
There was a story there, Lake could tell. It piqued his curiosity. “Old clothes for the op shop?” he asked as he toed off his shoes and put them beside where Grady had left his own on a rack near the small table by the door. It did not surprise him one iota that Grady seemed to be a neat freak.
“No.”
He whistled as Grady led him through a small lounge. The dark navy-blue walls should have made it feel even smaller and claustrophobic, but mixed with the furniture, it just looked cosy and inviting. There was a soft-grey L-shaped couch, a standing lamp with the same-coloured cover beside it, and tasteful décor scattered around: cushions on the couch that didn’t look like they were deformed, a black-stained coffee table with books—books,not magazines—and coasters. There was even a fern that looked like it was healthy and not in danger of dying—magic or a fake, obviously.
He whistled again, appreciatively this time, at the big TV mounted to the wall. There was a sweet surround-sound setup hooked up to it. Lake glanced around and spotted the speakers at the top of every corner of the room.Nice.
When they got to it, the kitchen was even nicer. The walls were a cream colour, but the cupboards were all the same dark navy as the walls in the other rooms. The bench-top was a bright marble, accentuating the sheer size of the island bench in the middle of the space. It was neat—holding another plant, and Lake needed to ask him his secret because who actually kept their indoor plantsalive?—with a sick-looking knife block beside the double sink. Lake had never seen the sink on the island bench before; it was pretty cool and overlooked the rest of the room. It meant being able to socialise while washing dishes instead of having your back to the room. Two low-hanging ceiling lights with more navy-blue colours were placed perfectly apart above the island bench.
Lake thought maybe it was time to look at some renovations for his house because his standards had just been lifted a hundredfold. He loved his house, but this place was a whole other beast. It was fuckingbrilliant.
“Don’t want to talk about it, huh?” he asked as he pulled out one of the two high-back bar stools—navy blue with a nice rich wooden structure, of course—and sat down. The island bench had been separated into two; the first half was a full block, probably with lots of cupboard space Lake would see if he went around to the other side, and then the second half was hollow underneath with room for the stools to be pushed into. It was cosy as fuck. He wondered what the bedrooms—bedroom?—looked like.
“What gave me away?” Grady asked sarcastically as he got two scotch glasses from a high cupboard. Lake’s attention drifted to Grady’s arms, where his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. His arm hair was dark and thick, and Lake briefly wondered what it would feel like under his fingertips.
“Do you want another list?” Lake asked, forcing himself to look away from Grady’s forearms.
Grady stared at him for a second as though trying to work out if Lake was a figment of his imagination before shaking his head and moving away. He disappeared into what must be a pantry—or an escape route, who knew?—before coming out with a bottle of whiskey. It had a samurai-looking guy riding a horse on the front, with writing in a different language that Lake couldn’t read because he’d fallen asleep in most of his language classes, including English, dreaming instead about flying through the air like a bird.
“That looks hardcore. What is it?” Lake asked. Once Grady had finished pouring and put the lid back on, Lake stretched forward to snag it so he could read it properly. “Shinobu Koshi-No,” he sounded out. “Japanese whiskey? Look at you, all cultured and shit.” It looked like the fancy stuff they put on the top shelf at bars and kept behind the counter or in the cabinets at bottle shops.
“Only the finest,” Grady deadpanned. He held up his glass in a mock toast. “Just try it.”
“Bottoms up,” Lake said as he lightly touched his glass to Grady’s before swallowing half the glass in one go. He wheezed and coughed as he put it down. His lungs wereburning.“Holyshit.”
“Might want to drink it slowly,” Grady said, taking a sip of his own.
“Yeah, thanks for the warning.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. Then finished the second half the same way because he kind of liked the way his head exploded when he did it. It was strong but went down smooth, with hints of pear and roasted nuts once the burn faded. There was probably so much left in the bottle because it didn’t take much to getfuckedwith it. “This is good shit. How many am I allowed to have before I’m cut off?”
“Do I look like a bartender to you?” Grady asked, pouring another when Lake handed over the glass. “You can have as many as it takes for you to pass out.”
“Where am I passing out?” Lake asked, smirking. Logistics were important and better discussed before he had gotten so hammered that he couldn’t think straight.
“I don’t have a spare room,” Grady said, “but you can take the couch.”
“Is it comfy?” Comfort was key, and couches could be hit and miss.
“No.”
Lake bet that was Grady’s first word. “Can I bunk in with you? If you want to touch butts while we sleep, I’m okay with that.”
Grady raised an eyebrow, and the level of judgement in his eyes as he took another sip was impressive. “We can see how drunk you get. At some point, even the couch will feel like a bed of soft feathers.”
“I like the way you think.” Lake let out another loud wheeze as he drank his next glass like a shot. A terrible way to drink it, Lake was sure. But he liked the way it burned going down, and no one had ever accused him of having manners.
