Page 69 of Wear It Like a Crown

What an arse. What a bloody fuckingbastard. How dare he?

Joshua almost,almostcalled him. He’d already reached for his phone, fingers numb, then opted to send a quick text to Mo and Tristan instead.

So L is a proper dick.

Dropping the phone on the bedside table, he considered putting fresh sheets on the bed. He couldn’t be bothered. The bare mattress stared back at him, like an accusation.

A shower, that was what he needed. Wash off Leo’s scent and the memory of last night, flush it all away and start this day from scratch. He left the bedroom without a backwards glance.

Beside the tub a small puddle still sat on the tiles, a reminder of last night. Joshua stared at it for too long, remembered water streaming down his back and Leo’s fingers in his hair, the helpless little sounds Leo had made as he’d worked himself into Joshua’s mouth. Thoughtless words of praise,so good, best I’ve ever had, no one else, no one else. Leo spilling with a ragged sigh, slumping a little, supporting himself with a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. Using that hand to push Joshua onto his back, even though it was crowded in the tub. Leo kissing him until Joshua couldn’t taste anything but Leo, Leo, Leo.

By the time Joshua left the bathroom in loose pyjama bottoms, Tristan had arrived. “Mo’s bringing the vodka,” he said in lieu of a greeting, then dragged Joshua into a hug.

Joshua took what felt like his first breath in years. “How did you know?”

“We know you. You wouldn’t call someone a dick unless they’d acted like the biggest fuckwit in the universe, so…” Pulling back, Tristan poked at Joshua’s collarbone. Glancing down, Joshua noticed the prominent lovebite, glaringly obvious, a bruise. “Take it he spent the night?” Tristan asked.

“Yes.” Joshua exhaled through his nose. The two cups were still on the work surface, and he peeled himself away from Tristan to empty the cold tea into the sink.

Tristan watched him, frowning. “Take it he didn’t spend much of the morning?”

“Let’s wait until Mo gets here. Don’t think I want to tell the story twice.” Leaning back against the sink, Joshua crossed his arms. “Fuck, I hate being cooped up in here. Do you think… The paps are probably stalking Windsor Castle and—I mean, they’re probably stalking everything that’s royal property, but do you think we could maybe go to your country home? Just for a bit? Bring Mo and Kels?”

“She’s got some fashion thingy tomorrow,” Tristan said. “But we could spend today there, definitely. And the night. I’ll make some calls.”

“I love you,” Joshua told him, completely honest. Just the idea of getting out of London calmed his blood so that it was no longer rushing in his ears like a waterfall, like water pouring down on him as he kneeled—no.

While Tristan went to make arrangements, Joshua busied himself with breakfast preparations. Mo arrived in the middle of it, pulled Joshua into a hug and didn’t ask any questions while he fell into Joshua’s rhythm, helping him fill the plates and carry everything out into the grey light of an overcast day. The vodka bottle took a spot of honour at the centre of the table, even though the sight turned Joshua’s stomach. It was the principle of the thing.

“So am I right,” Mo asked around his first mouthful, “that you got your hands on Leo’s dick, yeah? And it turns out he’s little more than that? Like, a dick?”

“Well fucking said,” Tristan congratulated.

Joshua put down his fork. He hadn’t been hungry in the first place. “Something like that. It was… The sex was really good. Like… I mean, I just never?—”

“Careful there,” Mo warned, but his smile was kind, and beneath the table he pressed his foot against Joshua’s.

Joshua managed to return the smile. “I’m not going to stroke your ego. We both know you’re adequately competent.”

“Do I have to be here for this?” Contradicting his protest, Tristan raised his glass of spiked orange juice. “Either way, here’s to damn good sex, everyone.”

“I don’t know. Damn good sex, yes, that’s brilliant. It’s just… I didn’t expect the emotional connection. Someone should have warned me.” Joshua’s throat felt dry when he swallowed. He squinted at the clouds, and they seemed to be frozen, no movement at all. Like the world had come to a standstill. It heightened the impression of being trapped, removed from reality, and Joshua was really fucking sick of it.

Leo had told him to stay away from all news channels. But Leo was also a massive twat, so why should Joshua listen to anything that came out of his mouth?

Tristan’s voice brought him back. “Let’s be real, the emotional connection is the best fucking thing about it.”

“Not if it’s all a lie.” Again, Joshua swallowed. “Like, ifyouthink it’s real, but the other person is just living out some teenage fantasy. And then ditching you afterwards, like yes, thanks, glad I got that out of my system.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Mo muttered.

Tristan was quiet for a moment, staring at Joshua. Then he shook his head, very slowly, and scrunched up his nose. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Way he looks at you, that’s not—no. Mate, when he watched you record that interview, that didn’t look like a teenage crush to me. And he’s prickly, yeah, but he’s also… His face goes all soft around you. Like when we did those trial runs and you were upset, and he’s the one who?—”

“Please don’t,” Joshua interrupted. No.No. He couldn’t allow Tristan to confuse him further, not when Joshua was still struggling with the realisation that he’d been wrong about Leo, all wrong. He’d thought the rough-cut exterior was protecting a sweetness underneath, was a defensive wall to hide the real Leo—the one who helped street kids and showed flashes of vulnerability, the one who kissed Joshua like he meant it, who built Joshua up and engaged him in serious discussions, the one who laughed with his eyes reduced to small slits, crinkled at the corners.

Joshua could have fallen in love with that Leo. Had been halfway there already.

Only it had been an illusion.