Cold Feet (2 page)

He checked that his wallet was in his coat pocket and picked up his car keys from the coffee table.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few.”

Ryan turned back to the fire once the door had closed behind Sam.

He couldn’t resist poking it even though it was burning beautifully. There was something so satisfying about a fire you’d built and lit
yourself
. He added another log and then moved back to sit on the sofa, staring at the flames as he tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Damn Jon and his crappy car
.

It would have been fun with all four of them there. But Ryan felt weird about being here alone with Sam.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he told himself out loud. “He’s your best mate, and you share a house with him, for fuck’s sake.”

But the nervous flutter in his belly persisted.

Ryan and Sam had been mates since the first week of uni when they got talking after a lecture. In their second year, they’d moved into a shared house and had been living together over a year now. Their relationship was easy, effortless almost.

On the surface they might have seemed like an unusual combination, what with Sam being an ubergeek and Ryan being on the rugby team. But when you dug a little deeper, they had a surprising amount in common. Sam teased Ryan for being a ‘secret geek,’ and threatened to out him. Ryan’s laughter at that joke was always a little forced, because Ryan had a different secret he was putting a lot of energy into hiding. And Sam was part of the problem—because Ryan’s feelings about Sam were…
complicated
.

When Sam had come out to Ryan and their other housemates shortly before last Christmas, Ryan had honestly been surprised. Not because Sam was super
straight-acting
or shagging loads of girls or anything—unlike Ryan—but simply because Ryan hadn’t given it too much thought. Though once Ryan knew Sam was gay—and dating another guy, so presumably doing gay things with him—it was pretty much all Ryan could think about. And imagining
Sam
doing stuff with another guy was really fucking confusing. It threw Ryan into a state of arousal and jealousy and gave him a road-to-Damascus wake-up call about his own sexuality.

But he wasn’t ready to face it. A couple of times he’d almost said something to Sam. It would have been good to talk to someone who understood what he was going through. But he kept chickening out. Then when Sam broke up with his boyfriend and was single again, Ryan didn’t want Sam to think he just saw him as a convenient opportunity for bi-curious experimentation. Sam meant way too much to Ryan for him to risk their friendship by making things awkward.

Ryan sighed and tugged his fingers through his hair, restless with nerves. He got up and started exploring the cottage a little more. Some instructions taped onto the wall in the kitchen told him how to put the water heater on, so he did that. Then he poked around in the kitchen cupboards a little, finding a few tins of beans and stew, and some dried packet mixes of pasta and rice that might be useful if they were stuck for food.

He heard the sound of the front door and went out to greet Sam as he came back in with his hands full of bulging carrier bags.

“Bloody hell, is it snowing?” Ryan asked.

Tiny white flakes had caught in Sam’s hair and stood out on the shoulders of his black jacket.

“Yeah, not much. Just a sprinkle.” His pale cheeks had flushed pink from the cold.

Ryan followed him through to the kitchen and took a bag to unpack—bread, margarine, some cheese, a dozen eggs, a couple of tins of baked beans, and a box of cornflakes.

“It was pretty basic, I’m afraid,” Sam said apologetically. “Maybe I should have driven further and found a better supermarket.”

“This is fine. We’re not gonna starve.”

Sam had unpacked the all-important beer and some assorted snacks.

“I got you those extra hot Doritos that you like.” He threw the bag at Ryan, who caught it one-handed.

“Aw, cheers, mate. You’re so good to me.” Ryan grinned.

“Don’t you forget it.
”

“I’m starving already.” Ryan looked at his watch. “Beans on toast?”

“Sure.”

They started on the beer while they cooked, and once they had two steaming plates of beans and cheese on toast with scrambled eggs, they took their food and drinks through to the front room.

“It’s lovely and warm in here now,” Ryan said.

He sat back on the sofa and kicked off his shoes so he could put his feet up on the coffee table. The warmth from the fire seeped through his socks and into the soles of his feet as he ate. It was bliss.

After dinner and their second beer each, they were feeling far too lazy to wash up, but Sam cleared their plates away when he went to get a third round of drinks.

Once the focus of eating had passed, Ryan felt awkward. Normally this was the time they’d be watching TV, or firing up the Xbox for a game, or at least putting some music on. But here only the crackle of the fire and the
rustle-thump
as a log slipped and settled disturbed the silence. The sofa sagged in the middle, pushing them together, and Ryan was aware of the not-quite-enough space between them. But part of him wanted to make the space go away entirely.

That thought had him standing abruptly. When Sam looked up in surprise, Ryan made his excuse. “I’m gonna take a leak.”

Upstairs, as he peed Ryan gritted his teeth and gave himself a stern talking-to.
Stop being weird
, he told himself.
If you keep being jumpy, he’s going to work out something’s wrong
.

When he got back downstairs, he found Sam looking in a low cupboard under the dresser.

“Hey, I’ve found games and stuff in here,” Sam said. “Want a game of chess?”

“Sure.” Ryan smiled in relief at the distraction.

They were back on familiar ground now. Chess was one of the secret geeky things Ryan liked, although he usually pretended not to, and at uni he and Sam sometimes played if they were in the mood for it.

“Just so you know, though,” Sam deadpanned. “You’re going down.”

“Oh yeah?
In your dreams, boyo.
Bring it.”

Four games and three hours later, it was two all. Ryan was knackered, and Sam was yawning too, but there was no way anyone was going to concede a draw. So they set the board up again.

The tension mounted. They leaned in close, their knees touching as they studied the board. It was Sam’s move, and he’d been thinking about it for ages, his chin in his hand and his brow furrowed with concentration. He was chewing on his bottom lip and when he released it, it was red and flushed, wet with his spit. Ryan realised he was staring and dragged his attention back to the board just in time to see Sam finally move his bishop.

Trying to clear his head of thoughts of Sam’s lips, Ryan noticed a threat to his queen and moved her quickly, taking an unprotected pawn.

Sam didn’t stop to think about his move this time. He swooped in with a rook that seemed to come out of nowhere.
Fuck
. Ryan really hadn’t been paying attention.

“Checkmate,” Sam said. “Told ya you were going down.”

“Bollocks!” Ryan stared at the board, disgusted with
himself
for missing Sam’s sneak attack. “Nice move, though.”

Sam sat back against his arm of the sofa and tucked his legs up, poking his sock-clad toes under Ryan’s thigh.

“God, my feet are cold, even with the fire on,” Sam said. “I wonder if the snow stopped.”

Ryan got up to open the curtains and peered out into the darkness. The sky was mostly clear, and as his eyes adjusted to the pale light from the moon, Ryan could see the grass outside, still only dusted with the slight sprinkle of sleety snow that had fallen earlier. “Yeah, it did.”

Ryan yawned and stretched, lifting his arms high. Sam’s gaze dropped to his waist for a second. Ryan lowered his arms quickly as the cool air hit the strip of exposed skin there.

“I might head up to bed,” he said. “Are you staying up for a bit?”

“Nah. I’m tired too. And the
fire’s
burned down now. Not much point putting more wood on if I’m going to crash out soon.”

As they made their way up the stairs, the temperature dropped sharply, and in the twin room they’d be sharing, their breath was visible.

There was a small electric heater in the corner under the window.

“Shall I put this on for a bit?” Sam asked, crouching down in front of it.

“God, yes. It’s freezing.”

Ryan started rummaging through his bag for something more comfortable to sleep in. He didn’t want to take too many layers off, but jeans were horrible to kip in, so he found some tracksuit bottoms instead. The rest of his clothes could stay on till he’d warmed up the bed a bit.

“Crap. It doesn’t work,” Sam said.

Ryan turned to see him crouching down, twisting the dial on the heater. “Let me try.”

“Ryan, I know how to switch a bloody heater on. It’s not rocket science. You plug it in and turn it on. It’s fucked.”

“Try a different socket?”

They found another socket on the wall behind Sam’s bed, but the heater still remained obstinately silent and cold.

“There might be one in the other bedroom too,” Sam said. “I’ll go and look.”

But he came back empty handed. “I can’t find one.”

“We’ll just have to use loads of blankets, then,” Ryan said. “I found some in the wardrobe earlier.”

They each put a couple of blankets on top of the duvets, then took turns to use the equally freezing bathroom before turning the light off and climbing into bed.

Sam’s teeth were chattering like castanets, but Ryan could hardly take the piss because he was shivering too. Only clenching his jaw stopped his teeth from making a racket like Sam’s.

“If I die of hypothermia in the night, I’m coming back to haunt Jon,” Sam grumbled. “Him and his freezing cottage and stupid broken heater.”

Ryan chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll live.” He’d put the covers over his head and was letting his breath warm the space under them. From the muffled sound of Sam’s voice, he was probably doing the same.

“I wish I’d eaten more. A big dinner might have helped.”

“Yeah.” Ryan was starting to feel sleepy now. The beer was taking its toll, and even though he was still cold, he could feel his consciousness starting to drift, so he ignored Sam’s mutterings and snuggled further into the covers.

He must have dozed off for a while, but was woken—he had no idea how much later—by an unearthly screeching from outside.

“What the fuck?” He started awake, poking his head out from under the covers, so he could listen out for the sound again. “God, it sounds like someone’s being murdered out there.”

“I think it’s a barn owl.” Sam’s voice cut through the darkness. “Is that the first time you heard it? It’s been going on for a while.”

“Yeah. I must have been pretty out of it.”

“You were snoring, so I guess so.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I keep you awake?”

“No. I’m too cold to sleep.”

“Shit.” Ryan was properly alert again now. “Do you want one of my blankets? I’m okay now.”

“I don’t want to make you cold too.”

Ryan thought for a moment. Then, ignoring the little voice in his head that was telling him this was a bad idea, he said, “Get over here.”

“Eh?”

“Come in with me. It’ll be warmer than sleeping alone.”

“Really?” But Ryan could already hear Sam’s bed creaking as he moved. He clearly wasn’t going to take much persuading.

“Course.”

Ryan shuffled over to make space as Sam lifted the covers and climbed in beside him.

“You sure this is okay? Or we could go and get in the double instead?”

“No,” Ryan replied. “It will take forever to warm up another bed. This is fine. Ouch!” Sam’s knees had jabbed Ryan in the thigh. “But keep your bony knees to yourself.”

“Sorry.” Sam turned onto his side, facing away from Ryan.

They were silent for a while, but Ryan could feel Sam was still shivering.

“You need to eat more pies.” Ryan rolled onto his side and curved his body around Sam’s slight frame. “If you had more meat on you, you wouldn’t get so cold.”

Sam tensed for a moment,
then
relaxed back against him. “You know I eat loads. I’m naturally skinny. We can’t all be burly rugby boys, you know.” But his voice was soft, and Ryan could hear the smile in it.

“Yeah, yeah. Now shut up and let me get back to sleep.”

Ryan pulled the covers up around their ears and snuggled in closer to Sam, putting his arm around him—just because it was more comfortable that way. His nose pressed into the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck and he smelled good, of woodsmoke and a hint of minty shampoo, but mostly of warm skin. He felt disconcertingly good in Ryan’s arms, lean and bony and definitely masculine in a way that set an uneasy spark of something smouldering in Ryan’s belly. Pushing those thoughts firmly away, Ryan closed his mind, concentrated on his breathing, and waited for sleep to come again.