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“Are you a homophobe?”
“Excuse you. What?”
“I am sorry, but it’s essential for me to know, because in the next three or more like two minutes, there will be a bunch of rugby guys coming through that door, trying to set me up for the umpteenth time, because they don’t believe me when I tell them that I have a boyfriend.”
“And do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“So, these rugby guys are actually smart?”
“Shit, are you one of the people who think athletic types don’t use their brains?”
“Actually, I am not. But I am one of the people who notice when someone tries to take the piss out of them. Thus …” The man with the dark hair and the skinniest jeans Nick had ever seen slid off the bar stool and gave Nick a little dorky wave. “Have a nice life. See you never.”
Noisy rumbling could be heard from outside the pub, the usual chaos when Nick’s team, consisting of huge guys with superb motor abilities on the field and virtually none outside of it, entered a space-limited area. One always had to fear for the interior.
Nick’s pulse increased. He couldn’t endure another night of the lads’ intrusive jokes and forced flirtations from the next poor girl they had dragged with them, promising her a chance with him. He just couldn’t.
“Please don’t leave me!” He grabbed the waving hand and squeezed it between his own, randomly noticing the difference in their sizes. “I need you.”
“Let go, please.” The words were soft-spoken and polite, but had a steely quality to them.
Nick relinquished his hold at once. “Of course, sorry, sorry, sorry. Usually, I am not like this, but we are in an emergency situation.”
“We are?” A striking eyebrow quirked.
Gosh, the man really didn’t get it.
Okay, time was of the essence. If the reputation of his puppy eyes held any truth in it at all, they had to prove themselves now. Nick concentrated the whole power of his imploring gaze into the eyes of the man in front of him. They were a strange hue of blue. Dark grey? Hard to say in the dim light of the pub.
“You are my boyfriend of half a year. Your name is Evan. We met when I was at home for the Christmas holidays. You like reading and writing and dogs and me. You were head boy at school to give the younger kids, unsure of their sexuality, someone to talk to. We plan to visit my dad in France for the summer. You haven’t been here in Leeds before, because you’ve just spent a few months in Ireland for a student’s exchange program. Got it?”
The door banged open.
Nick’s heart pounded.
He could hear Pebbles’ voice, their captain, shouting the team’s first order right from the threshold. In his wake followed eight men and two women, one of the two giggling, the other looking around as if looking for someone. She had to be the one they wanted to set him up with tonight. He had developed a six sense for them. Nick spared her a moment of sympathy, because it wasn’t her fault that she had been lured here under false pretences. But the sympathy for himself exceeded by far.
He dropped his voice to a desperate whisper. “Please, please! I will make it up to you. I swear. You can have everything from me. But, please, be my Evan for tonight.”
“Nick, there you are!” Pebbles had discovered him, sauntering his way over. “Guess what! We’ve got a surprise for you.” Pebbles waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
Nick remained speechless, caught in the dilemma of not knowing whether he had to fend for himself tonight or if he had backup for once.
With the litheness of a dancer, the man, whose dark curls were really impressively springy, managed to turn around and nestle into Nick’s side in one smooth move. Nick felt the man’s arm sliding around his waist. Automatically, his own went around the stranger’s slim shoulders.
A small part of his brain was wondering about the softness of the flannel beneath his hand, while the other, panicky part tried to keep up with the proceedings. He could hear himself answer, positively curious about what would come out of his own mouth. “Great! But I’ve got a surprise for you, too.”
The stranger at his side stretched his hand out to offer it to Pebbles. “I am Evan. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
°°°
If someone had asked Nick yesterday how he felt about another man sitting on his lap, leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder every time he laughed at the dumb jokes of Nick’s rugby mates, while holding on to Nick’s arm, which he had slung around the man’s middle to steady him, and painting small goosebump-raising circles on Nick’s forearm with his thumb, Nick would have said that it probably would be a bit strange at first, but that rugby was a contact sport and he didn’t mind physical closeness to other males.
If someone asked him tonight, Nick would have to insist on a raincheck to answer, because he didn’t fucking know what was happening to him right now. And this had only partially to do with the fact that the arrival of five latecomers had forced Fake-Evan to sit on his lap for at least two hours already, because there simply wasn’t enough space for all of them in their booth. Nick had almost cancelled his plan as he saw how shy Fake-Evan had reacted when faced with the team’s leering and cheering at the suggestion. But something in Nick’s face had to have convinced him to go through with it, and he had placed himself onto Nick’s thighs, planting a kiss on his cheek, and had said: “It’s my favourite place anyway.”
It was like an accident.
Nick couldn’t look away.
Nick had been so naive.
In his mind, Fake-Evan would simply be introduced to the group, some stupid comments would have to be met with some kind-hearted snark, and then Pebbles and the others would leave him in peace, finally accepting that he was in a steady and happy relationship.
But, of fucking course, this was not what had happened. Instead, his captain and the rugby lads took a liking to Nick’s “boyfriend” and began to talk to him and even ask him questions. Never before had Nick experienced them being so civilly talkative, honestly.
It had to be because of Fake-Evan himself, whatever his real name was. Nick was determined to find that out at some point, because it felt borderline-psycho to call him Fake-Evan in his own head. Anyway, as it turned out, Fake-Evan was the kind of person who was not only funny and intelligent, but also kind and sassy and able to tease them all without offending. He knew so much about English literature and film history that the imaginary hobbies Nick assigned to him developed a life of their own and evolved easily into Fake-Evan’s course of studies.
Pebbles’ girlfriend was an English student, too, so Pebbles astonished everyone at the table with his impromptu inside knowledge of Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day .
“He is so damn caught up in all these obligations and narrow thinking,” Pebbles had just said, looking contrite about a fictitious butler.
“Sure, but all these rules also give him a structure to live by. He’s never learnt to live with full freedom, it must be frightening,” Fake-Evan said.
Pebbles nodded and looked sad.
Nick was gobsmacked - at Pebbles’ insightfulness and at Fake-Evan’s awesomeness.
Also, the latter was a rather pleasant and surprisingly comfortable weight in his lap, considering the slender lines and sharp angles of his body. Nick enjoyed the safety of not sitting alone for once, and his arm had found its way around the grounding waist all on its own.
Trust the team’s biggest clod to destroy the peaceful, three-rounds-of-stout-in mood, because:
“Hear, hear!” Christian called out and put his empty glass on the table with a loud clunk. “Let’s have another round, and then we want to see you two kiss!”
What the fuck?
No, no, no, no, no, no, nooooooo!
Shocked, Nick almost choked on his own spit. “Come on, man, that’s dumb. We are not a peep show. I won’t force Evan to kiss me in front of you, guys. He has just met you. How old are you anyway? Fourteen?”
Christian laughed. “At fourteen, we would insist on some nudeness. As we are mentally only thirteen, we are content with some tongue action. You owe us.”
Nick shook his head. “You are mental. We won’t do it. And we don’t owe you anything. Sod off!”
Pebbles chimed in. “You withheld him from us for a crazy long time, Nelson, and we love him.” He patted Fake-Evan’s knee clumsily. “We love you Evan and we love that you make our Nick here so happy. So one little kiss is not too much to ask, is it? In our hearts we are all romantics.”
“Idiots, that’s what you are,” Nick mumbled. “We just won’t do it. Forget it and carry on.”
“Aw, Nelson, who would have thought that you are such a prude.” These words came from Bob. Nick had never liked Bob, really. “He is always going on about you, you know? Evan this, Evan that. How wonderful Evan is, how lovely and capable and perfect, until we all thought that such a flawless person simply couldn’t exist.” Bob chuckled. “It’s actually uncanny how well he described you. We might have recognized you even without the introduction.”
Fake-Evan, who had listened quietly to the banter around him, turned his head and found Nick’s eyes. “You described exactly how I looked?”
Thank all the deities in and around this earth that the pub’s lighting was so shit. Nick’s face burnt up. He managed to shrug nonchalantly, ignoring the firestorm in his belly.
“Not only looked,” Nick admitted quietly. “You are … really special.”
Fake-Evan watched him for a long moment. Then he nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t mind one kiss in front of your team.”
Instantly, Nick’s eyes flew to Fake-Evan’s lips. Holy shit, what had he gotten them both into? And why did the man play his role so damn well that Nick needed to remind himself increasingly often that they were doing exactly that - faking it?
He loosened his grip at Fake-Evan’s waist that had gotten too tight suddenly.
“If you are sure?”
He croaked, searching the dark eyes for any reservations or hidden doubts. The last thing he wanted was forcing the other man into something that he loathed. Of course, he always had the option to get off Nick’s lap and tell everyone the truth, but Nick had the impression that Fake-Evan wasn’t someone who let people down easily. Also, and this was what made Nick go through with it, he didn’t appear worried or hard-pressed in any way. Rather, he gave off pretty amused vibes, which, okay, was something Nick could work with.
Again, Nick’s eyes went to Fake-Evan’s lips. He had never kissed a man before. But the longer he looked at the man’s mouth, the more he wanted to try. Surprised, Nick noticed a stirring in his stomach, something like excitement and … arousal?
He took a deep breath.
“If you are sure?” He asked again, more determined this time.
“I am sure,” Fake-Evan answered, smiling now. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the lads, would we?”
“No, you damn well wouldn’t!” Pebbles confirmed fervently and thumped Fake-Evan on his back, underestimating his strength like always and sending the slender man directly into Nick’s chest. Nick's arms went around him protectively.
He glared at Pebbles. “Watch it, man.”
“Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to let him fly, but Evan doesn’t seem to be suffering.” He guffawed. “I can tell he is a snuggler. The English majors all are. I know from experience.”
“Oh my God,” said Nick, but when he checked, he couldn’t deny that Pebbles had a point. Fake-Evan looked kind of comfy there, huddled against Nick’s front, his nose buried into Nick’s clavicle. In this position, Nick himself was tempted to nose along Fake-Evan’s neck, long and smooth and beautiful right in front of him. Mysteriously, Fake-Evan gave off a subtle scent of thyme and lavender, which was awfully intoxicating.
Truely, what was happening to him?!
With a load bang, Christian returned and put down a large tray loaded with pints for everyone.
“If I missed the kissing, I will be pissed!”
“You are pissed anyway, but no kissing yet,” Bob said gleefully.
“Okay, then grab a pint, and let’s go!” Christian yelled and sat down. “And by let’s go , I mean you two.” He panned his full glass dangerously into their direction. “Kiss! Kiss, kiss, kiss …”
The others chimed in.
Of course, they did.
“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. …” The bellowing crescendoed.
Geez, why couldn’t he have normal friends with normal social behaviour?
The heads of the other pub guests started to turn at the tumult in their booth, and Nick began to sweat. He hated it when all the attention in a room was on him. And with this pending kiss, he was so out of his depth that—
Something warm and soft brushed his lips, tentatively. Nick was startled. The pressure increased, still soft, but more insistent, catching him, capturing all of his attention. Oh, this was nice. This felt so lovely, this was …
Nick, having closed his eyes at the first touch, caught on.
There was the tip of Fake-Evan’s tongue at the corner of his mouth now, teasing gently, probing, testing, prodding, and then sliding audaciously into Nick’s mouth when he gasped a sound, which was not a moan, not yet. He wasn’t so easy!
Who was he kidding? He obviously was.
Why did Fake-Evan taste so good?! That wasn’t normal after the amount of beer they had consumed.
Nick’s hands tightened around the body on his lap, moving Fake-Evan at bit to make it easier for them to melt together, while the other man led them into a kiss that short-circuited Nick’s brain by the time he started to suck gently on Nick’s tongue.
In the background, there was applause and salacious yelling, but Nick couldn’t attach it to anyone, and, really, he didn’t care at all. He only cared for Fake-Evan right now and his mouth mapping his own, turning his world upside down, making every single cell in his body vibrate and writhe with joy.
Nick’s hands began to wander. He tended to get handsy when aroused and a bit tipsy, and he was very aroused at this moment.
Fuck, did he have a boner ?!
Nick forced himself to open his eyes and check in with Fake-Evan, who made a grumpy sound when Nick's lips withdrew for a second, but, quick-witted, understood what the problem was immediately, and solved it by taking Nick’s hands and sliding them under his t-shirt.
Alright, that, right there, had been a moan out of his own throat. Nick admitted it. A big, extremely loud one. But there was silk under his hands. Fake-Evan’s skin felt like silk over lean muscles and he smelt like a fucking French garden in spring. How could that be?
Running purely on instinct now, Nick man-handled Fake-Evan into a position that provided more friction against his own crotch. His imagination threw images at him of grabbing the man and spreading him on the table, taking off all his clothes and finding out what was hidden under them.
Nick’s pulse raced. His muscles tensed. At some point, he had begun to pant, but he couldn’t be bothered anymore. Nick pushed forward, pushed deeper, took the mouth under his with urgent, sensual, heated kisses. He wanted to devour the man. He wanted …
All of a sudden, Nick was dripping icy-cold. A loud gasp let him know that he wasn’t the only one drenched in … ale?
“Fucking hell! You assholes, why did you do that?!”
“Saving your decency, man!”
The lads roared with laughter. Nick could have strangled them, one after the other.
His hands stroked down Fake-Evan’s wet sleeves. “Are you alright?”
The dark-haired man sighed. “Yes, only sticky and wet.”
“I am so sorry. They are sodding morons. I should have never—”
Fake-Evan’s hand landed on his mouth. “You’ve done everything right.”
The faint smell of thyme was still discernible through the disgusting ale stench.
“Yoshllgdt,” said Nick.
Fake-Evan took his hand away. “Pardon?”
“Why do you smell so good?”
“I was cooking earlier. Maybe it’s that.” Fake-Evan focussed on a point near Nick’s collarbone, clearly having a shy moment again, which was incredibly intriguing after what he had done with his lips and tongue a few seconds prior.
“You smell really, really good,” Nick assured him and then got silent, because what was one to say when one had just gotten the best kiss of one’s whole life from a stranger, a male stranger on top of that, in front of an audience of a dozen rowdy observers?
They kept on watching each other for quite a while. There were question marks hanging above their heads. Nick could almost see them. He was certain that their questions were different, but it was a good sign that they both had any, right? It meant that this … this whatever it was between them was not quite over yet. Right?!
After throwing a glance at the lads, who were happy to leave them in peace now that they had had their fun, Fake-Evan leant forward, lowering his voice.
“Am I the first man you have kissed in your life?”
“Shit, was it that bad? Is this why you’ve noticed?” Nick fidgeted.
“No, it wasn’t bad at all.” Fake-Evan said. “You were just terribly nervous, and I was wondering why.”
“Could be, because I was about to kiss a stranger,” Nick said in a low voice.
“But didn’t you know that they would make you do that?”
Nick flinched. “I am sorry. I must have blocked that out earlier.”
“And why did you tell them you had a boyfriend? You could have easily told them of a girlfriend at home.”
“Gosh, it’s so dumb, but. Okay. I was at the musical Dear Evan Hansen with my fourth graders that day when they pressed me again for details and it all slipped out.”
“That’s really dumb.”
“I am weak, I know.”
“Weren’t you worried that they didn’t accept you as queer?”
“They are pushy, not narrow-minded.”
“You need to learn to stand up for yourself, Nick.”
“I do.”
“Are you a teacher?”
“No, but I will be when I have finished uni.”
Fake-Evan nodded thoughtfully. “You must work on your panic reaction mode, when you want to be a good teacher, you know that, right? Evil kids, other teachers, helicopter parents? They will kill you otherwise.”
“I’m aware.” Nick sounded pathetic and he knew it. “I am not the best under pressure.”
Fake-Evan smirked, touching his lips lightly. “I wouldn’t say that .”
Nick felt his pulse rise again. By now, he felt like a rugby match was a hugely relaxing event compared to this rollercoaster of an evening. This expression on Fake-Evan’s face now reminded him painfully of the boner situation earlier, which, thankfully, had waned during the last couple of minutes.
Again, Fake-Evan leant forward, his chest pressing into Nick’s.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Fake-Evan murmured. “I am not trying to tell you what to feel. But can it be that you don’t know that you might, just maybe, not be … totally straight?”
It was a pretty cautious remark, considering the fact that Fake-Evan sat in direct contact with Nick's lively crotch.
“Ehm … maybe?” Nick gulped. “I mean, obviously I don’t hate it that you—”
Fake-Evan wriggled a bit.
Nick moaned quietly. His dick was killing him.
“You did that on purpose,” he accused.
“Only readjusting.” Fake-Evan’s innocent eyes might be even more effective than Nick’s puppy ones.
The next second held the heaviness of a Before/After moment in Nick’s life.
Fuck it.
He jumped.
“After the events of tonight, I don’t think I am straight,” Nick said.
Fake-Evan’s lips touched Nick’s ear lightly. “I don’t think so, either.” He pulled back a bit to look into Nick’s eyes, suddenly much more serious. “Are you okay?”
Nick nodded dazedly. “I’ve never considered being queer anything negative so, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just so surprising in a disturbingly big way to be honest. Also …”
This went too far for a talk in a pub with a stranger, didn’t it?
“You can tell me.” Fake-Evan smiled at him encouragingly, all the snarkiness and sassy banter safely put on hold.
He made it easy for Nick to ignore the embarrassing tears that seemed to clog up his throat and choke out: “I am afraid of what else I may have missed about me if I didn’t know something so huge about myself.”
Fake-Evan cupped Nick’s left cheek in his warm hand, a bit sticky from the beer glass, and ran his thumb in a tender arc below his eye. “Don’t worry about it. You have all the time in the world to find out. And you are still the same person. You only add things, you don’t take anything away from you. There will only be more of you to like.”
“You like me?!” There was a small explosion of giddiness in Nick’s belly.
Fake-Evan checked again if any of the others were looking and then took one of Nick’s hands below the edge of the table and laid it slowly on his own crotch, giving Nick every chance to pull back. Nick’s eyes got huge as he felt a distinct bulge there that he hadn’t had the capacity to notice until now, being so focussed on his own reactions. Instinctively, his hand increased the pressure and he palmed Fake-Evan fully.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Fake-Evan winked, his pupils having dilated with Nick’s touch. “Apart from that,” he shot a pointed look down, “I also think you are a very nice person and I would like to get to know you better, if, well, if …”
Ah, one of the fascinating bouts of shyness again.
Nick withdrew his hand only to put both of his arms around Fake-Evan’s back. “I’d love that.”
Fake-Evan beamed. He really was adorable as hell.
Nick fastened his hold. “You actually are gay, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sherlock, indeed I am, always was, probably will be forever.”
“Sorry for asking earlier if you're a homophobe.”
“Better ask than assume, I guess.”
“Do you always see the positive side?”
“I try. I’ve learnt that it often makes life easier.”
“I would love to hear more about that. About you.”
“You do?”
“Very much.”
“I would like that, too.” Shy again. Nick was struggling against the urge to cuddle the adult man on his lap within an inch of his life.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Fake-Evan asked.
Nick frowned. “Not particularly.”
“Not to end the evening. Just to … move it somewhere quieter.”
Oh.
“Oh!”
“You are unfairly cute.”
“Oh.” Nick blushed like a wildfire.
“Not helping your case right now at all,” Fake-Evan teased, stroking his fingertips over Nick’s hot cheeks.
“Can I kiss you again, please?”
“You can do more if you like as soon as we are elsewhere.”
“I live with Pebbles.”
“My place it is.”
“I really like you, Eva— ehm.”
Fake-Evan tilted his head questioningly.
Nick whispered. “How are you called for real?”
“My name is Charlie Spring,” he whispered back.
“Charlie,” Nick sighed. “I love that name.”
Charlie giggled. “Well, that’s great, because I must tell you, Nick Nelson, just in case you might need to invent another imaginary boyfriend, Evan is a terrible name in general.”
Nick soaked up the mirth sparkling in Charlie’s eyes, making cautious promises that he might not have this particular problem ever again.