Page 45 of Wear It Like a Crown

It was Mo who broke the tension. “Look, we’ve done this since we met at uni. Always the same thing for World Cups and European Cups, and Champions League past the group stage.” Taking the list off the fridge, he passed it to Nate, who examined it with a serious expression while Mo continued. “I was a piss-poor student then, totally depended on a shitty job in a café and bargain deals at Tesco’s. That’s why we settled on a bottle of wine. Difference being that I always bought whatever was on sale, and Joshua and Tristan raided their parents’ cellars.”

Joshua went to empty the second bag of crisps into a bowl. “You say that like we didn’t take a personal risk. I think Tristan narrowly escaped being disinherited once.”

“What did he do?” Leo asked, glancing up.

Mo grinned. “Accidentally gifted me with a bottle of some fancy French wine that was pretty much irreplaceable.”

When Leo gave a small laugh, Joshua found himself staring at the crinkles around his eyes. It took him a moment to join in. Even then, he felt a little out of breath.

SIX

If Leo were to count only his waking hours, there was a chance that over the last ten days, he’d spent nearly as much time at Joshua’s place as his own. What had started with that very first breakfast on Joshua’s terrace had evolved into strategy sessions in Joshua’s living room, into rambling conversations and clicking with Joshua’s friends over beer and movies, exchanging glances while Nate laughed a little too hard at Mo.

Throughout those early mornings and late nights, Leo had come to find traces of himself scattered about. There was his name on the betting list pinned to Joshua’s fridge, there was Mo’s sketch on the blackboard, which showed a cartoon version of Leo and Nate giving each other high-fives, and there was a teacup that Leo had claimed as his own because he strongly identified with the words printed onto the ceramic. A litany of “tit twat wanker tosser fuckwit arsehole” helped him wade through a small but vomit-worthy portion of the online speculation about Joshua’s sexuality. In the absence of an official statement from Buckingham Palace, rumours were running wild.

Well. That statement was about to happen.

“So people are mostly worried about two things, yeah?” Sprawled on the floor in shorts and a tank top, Nate waved a printout of some fancy graph that linked the frequency of certain key words to topics.Leo had blanked out a minute into the explanation of how Nate had grabbed the data, and tuned back in for what it meant. “There’s those who think you’ll hit every club in town?—”

“Every dick in town, more like,” Tristan put in with a bright grin.

“Only fair, isn’t it?” On his back with his head on Joshua’s thigh, Mo didn’t even bother opening his eyes. “Our boy’s got to make up for lost time.” His drawl was lazy and amused, and Leo liked him, he really did, but something about the words didn’t sit well. They shouldn’t be joking about Joshua running wild with meaningless flings, not when Joshua would need to sell the very opposite to the public. Not when he had told Leo that he wanted something steady, seeming almost embarrassed by it.

Show me the guy who’ll stick around once the media calls on the hunt.

Leo had done his best not to linger on that early admission, yet his mind kept replaying it at odd moments,show me the guy, show me the guy. He was about to protest Mo’s careless treatment of the topic, but Joshua beat him to it.

“I don’t think I can make up for lost time by, like, fucking my way through—just, never mind.” Joshua shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. And not only because it would look bad.”

“You’ve always been a bit of a romantic,” Mo said, blinking his lids open for a small grin at Joshua. Some kind of private joke was tucked into it, and Joshua smiled back just like that, warm and intimate, his fingers hooked into Mo’s sleeve.

Objectively, they were beautiful together. At the same time, it was strange to watch them like this, knowing that their… arrangement had been the catalyst, the first domino to topple over and set off this chain of events. Leo wondered whether they’d done anything since that morning when Joshua had walked into James’ office. There’d been no hint of them crossing the line of friendship while Leo had been around, and each time the five of them had called it a night, Mo had left with Leo, Nate and Tristan.

In any case, it was none of Leo’s business. He made himself look away.

“We can easily counter that fear by Joshua emphasising how much of a family guy he is. If we make it clear that casual flings aren’this style at all.” Shifting to pull both legs under his body, Leo leaned his back against the sofa table. The telly, on mute, showed a commercial in which a woman was slathering salad oil all over a guy’s well-developed chest. Leo assumed that it was so tasty she wanted to lick it off him. Okay. “He’s looking for something serious, and the reason he’s coming out isn’t because he wants to run amok in gay clubs, but because he hates lying to the country. To his people.”

“Minions,” Mo corrected. In spite of the humour woven into his voice, he shot Leo a quick glance that conveyed respect.

“Minions, underlings, smallfolk.Semantics.” Leo nodded at Joshua. “You said you wouldn’t tell lies. This is largely accurate, isn’t it?”

Joshua blinked prettily. “Me having minions?”

“The rest,” Leo said. He leaned over to poke Joshua’s stomach. “Do try to keep up, little prince. Being cute is no excuse to slack off.”

As soon as it was out, Leo wanted to take it back. Flirting just for the hell of it, joking around, no strings attached—that was so far in his past that it felt like part of an entirely different person. He’d shoved it into a box, closed the lid and sealed it, left it to collect dust. And it had worked just fine, right up until Joshua had come back into his life and stirred up memories of an easier time. It carried the scent of fresh grass in the spring, a whiff of the musty smell that had clung to the books in Eton’s library, and a hint of the wax that had made the staircases shine, smooth with centuries of use. Last night, for the first time in half a dozen years, Leo had dreamed of hurriedly pulling on his school uniform, leaving his room in bare feet and running to make it to the Chapel in time.

A gentle nudge of his hand jolted him out of the thought. With a start, he realised he’d been looking at Joshua without really seeing him, and it was Nate who’d brought him out of it. Nate’s expression was questioning, and Leo shook his head incrementally. Later, he’d explain later. Maybe.

No, he would.

The expectant silence informed him that he’d missed something, most likely Joshua’s reply to his comment. “Sorry,” Leo said. “Blanked out for a moment there. Just remembered that I need to call James about the interview slot. Did you say something?”

Overcompensating—a beginner’s mistake, offering an explanation where none was needed. He knew better.

“Never mind,” Joshua told him. “It wasn’t important.” He angled himself away, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Nate, what else are people saying?”

While Nate went back to consulting his graph, Leo kept studying Joshua’s profile for a few seconds longer. He couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something.