Page 22 of Unrequited Sloth

“I suspect we’d have to book in advance, but we can walk down and have a look.”

Bobby smiled and gave Gabriel a wink. Thankfully, he was sitting down, or his knees would have given way. Was this man being deliberately flirty, or was it just how he communicated? Whichever it was, he needed to stop, or Gabriel would need to have a drink, and then he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

It was two o’clock in the morning when they stumbled into Gabriel’s hotel room. The no-drinking thing hadn’t lasted long once they were out and about, but at least this time they’d paced themselves. Gabriel felt pleasantly buzzed, rather than wasted like he’d clearly been the night before. Bobby was drunker than he was, but the guy needed it.

They hadn’t been able to get Drag Race tickets, but the guy at the booth had suggested a local drag show just off the strip, so Bobby had insisted they go there. It was clear Bobby had no issue being in a gay club and had mentioned he’d been out in Soho with his brothers. Gabriel was the one who’d felt funny. What if other guys hit on Bobby, would he get jealous? That hadn’t happened, though, and now they were back in his room, and Bobby was pulling his clothes off, showing off that perfect muscular body.

“Are you okay, Gabriel?” asked Bobby, snapping him out of his trance.

Had he been staring? He felt his face heating, so he nodded and rushed into the bathroom. Gabriel needed to pull himself together. He was sharing a bed with Bobby Kavanagh, his fake husband. He snorted. What a ridiculous thing they’d done. Thank God they weren’t American citizens, or they’d be in serious trouble. Had there been a moment when they’d kissed, like you do at weddings? Gabriel liked to think he would remember kissing Bobby, so it was unlikely. Even though he’d seen it enough on film and TV, it was still bizarre to Gabriel that they’d let people who were completely shit-faced get married.

He freshened himself up and stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt. He wasn’t getting into bed with Bobby in just his underwear. Walking out into the bedroom, he realised Bobby hadn’t got the memo. He was sitting up, trying to work out the TV remote. His big chest, with a smattering of blond hair on it, was on display, as well as the top of his abs. Gabriel was so fucked. Why had he suggested this?

Gabriel padded over to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. Thankfully, that was free, as the minibar prices were astronomical. He passed one to Bobby, who thanked him and smiled. It was hard not to imagine this being Gabriel’s life, having this man sitting like this in bed every night. Although, if they were an actual couple, Gabriel would straddle him right now. Something he shouldn’t be thinking about unless he wanted to give Bobby an eyeful.

He got into the bed on the other side, just as Bobby got the TV on. He scrolled to some US crime show, but then lay down with his back to the TV, so it was obviously just for background noise. That meant he was facing Gabriel, who was itching to get his phone out of the safe. Not because he wanted to check if he had any messages, but it would give him something to do, so he didn’t have to look at Bobby, who was staring at him. Gabriel looked at him; those blue eyes dazzled him immediately.

“Thank you for today,” said Bobby.

“You paid for the trip. I should thank you.”

“Not about the trip. Just being here for me. Fuck knows what’s going to happen when we get back, but if I’d been on my own today, I don’t think I would have got through it.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure what to say. He felt his eyes watering.

“Hey, don’t get upset.”

Bobby reached over and stroked Gabriel’s arm, and it felt like he’d been electrocuted in the best possible way. Was there a good way to be electrocuted? His heart was beating like crazy, and he was doing all he could to make sure his dick didn’t get hard. Thank God Bobby hadn’t put his hands any lower.

“You’ve got a kind heart, Gabriel. You’re going to make some guy very happy one day.” Bobby smiled at him. “Good night,” he said, before turning the other way.

“Good night,” he replied, trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew this would be the last time he ever shared a bed with Bobby Kavanagh.

CHAPTER 8

BOBBY

Bobby had been expecting his phone to explode with messages when he turned it on, but there was nothing from his fiancé, best friend, or anyone else who had been at the stag do. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Bobby didn’t like confrontation outside of supporting his clients, but for nobody to contact him at all . . . it was hard for that not to hurt. Now he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

When he’d gotten back to London, Gabriel had prearranged a cab for himself, so they said their goodbyes and he left. Bobby had taken so much comfort from Gabriel’s support, and he couldn’t thank him enough. No words could articulate what it had meant to him. He wouldn’t have wanted to spend the last two days with anyone else, and Gabriel gave the best hugs. They were more comforting than the ones he got from Ryan.

Bobby was on the Heathrow Express, unsure whether he should go home. Alex wasn’t due back until tomorrow, so at least he had a night to himself before he had to face her. They needed to talk, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like he could stay with his brothers, as they both lived with flatmates, and his parents were in Devon. Not exactly commuting distance to the office. Dillon wasn’t an option either, for obvious reasons, and he also shared a flat with others. In fact, all his friends were in rented flat shares. The only exception was Gabriel, but then he was a guy who had his shit together. Bobby was on good money, but the intention had been to buy a place together with Alex after the wedding. Alex rented her place, and Bobby wasn’t even on the lease.

Once he arrived at London Paddington, he jumped onto the Bakerloo line to get home. It took him another forty minutes before he was finally lugging his case up the stairs to the flat. They were on the top floor of an old Victorian house, which had three floors, each converted into a flat. He put his key in the lock, and it wouldn’t go in.

What the fuck?

He checked he had the right key. There were only two – one for the main front door, which had worked, and the other for their flat. He tried again, but with no luck. What the fuck was happening? Having nothing else to do, he knocked on the door, and his jaw dropped when it opened and Alex was standing there. Before he could say anything, she slapped him hard across the face.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“What the fuck, Alex? I live here.”

“Not anymore. I’ve packed all your stuff.”

His face stung like a bitch. “Why are you angry with me? You’re the one who’s been cheating.”

She slapped him again.