Page 75 of In at the Deep End
Coming to Owen’s barn to work, escaping Jamie, Steggie and the general chaos that accompanied his family? It had seemed like the perfect plan. Instead, he’d written three hundred words, deleted two hundred and eighty of them, and spent far too much time gazing out of the window.
And I’m doing it again.
The pool glittered in the sunshine. Owen lay on one of the loungers in a pair of yellow shorts, a paperback open across his chest. From time to time he reached for his drink without taking his eyes off the page.
A poster boy for relaxation.
Matt returned his attention to the laptop.
Post-war masculinity was frequently characterised by emotional restraint…
Delete.
His gaze drifted to the window. Again.
Why do you keep staring at him? What are you hoping to see?
He had no idea.
Liar.
Two days ago he’d wondered what seeing two men together said about him.
This morning Eric had all but laughed at the idea that he could think his way to an answer.
Sometimes you have to collect the evidence by actually doing things.
Matt had spent years focused on basic assumptions.
You met someone. You either wanted them or you didn’t. End of story. Simple.
Except nothing about Owen felt simple.
Matt already knew he liked talking to him, liked making Owen laugh. Matt could listen to him for hours.
Now, apparently, he liked watching Owen read.
Matt snorted. Well, that’s a new one.
His gaze wandered back to the pool.
Owen turned a page. He didn’t glance up once.
Matt’s breathing hitched, and his ribs felt tight. He glanced away.
Why should that disappoint me?
He’d noticed when Owen looked at him. And now he noticed when Owen didn’t.
That was new too.
Matt closed the laptop. He didn’t have a hope in hell of writing another coherent sentence until he stopped wondering why his attention kept drifting to the pool.
Maybe I just fancy a beer.
Maybe.
He stood, stretched, grabbed the bottle of water he’d packed into his bag, and headed for the door, stepping out into warmth and sunshine.
