Page 77 of In at the Deep End

Matt slipped off his long shorts and stepped into the teal ones, gazing at his reflection in the wardrobe door. They were a good fit. More importantly, they showed the result of all the hours he’d spent in the uni gym without appearing as though they were trying to.

Then he laughed.

What on earth am I doing?

Except he already knew the answer to that. He wasn’t showing off or even flirting.

I’m just…wondering.

He reached for a T-shirt, then paused. His hand drifted instead to the white vest he wore to the gym. He stared at it. Gazed at his reflection. “Oh, this is ridiculous.”

He pulled it on anyway.

Matt had spent most of his life observing other people. For once, he was curious what someone else might observe about him.

He left the house as quietly as he’d entered it, and headed next door.

Owen was still reading by the pool. Matt walked over to him, doing his best not to stare at Owen’s muscled thighs, his bare feet, legs crossed at the ankles.

“Did you find it?” Owen murmured without looking up from his book.

“Hmm?”

“Your charger. You know, the—” Owen turned his head and became very still.

Fuck.

He cleared his throat. “The one you went to fetch.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m really not with it this morning. I think it’s in my laptop bag.”

Owen’s eyes lingered on Matt’s shoulders before drifting lower. Then his gaze snapped back to Matt’s face. “What? Oh, good.”

Matt wandered over to the stack of paving slabs at the deep end of the pool. He nudged one with the toe of his trainer. “Can we talk about these?”

“Those?” Owen cursed himself for the frog that had apparently taken up residence in his throat. “What about them?”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Well, apart from the fact they’re concrete, they’re ugly…”

Owen coughed. “All of which is true.”

“So are you sure you want to keep them?”

“They’re structurally sound, aren’t they?”

Matt’s eyes sparkled. “Can we go back to the ‘they’re ugly’ part?” He laughed. “‘Structurally sound’? That’s the least enthusiastic recommendation I’ve ever heard.”

Owen grinned. “They’re paving slabs. They don’t need charisma.”

Matt shook his head. “Everything benefits from a bit of charisma.”

“You’ll have to work harder than that to persuade me paving does.”

Matt folded his arms. “It certainly would if you were trying to sell it.”

Owen lowered his sunglasses just enough to gaze over the top of them. “Fortunately, I’m not.”

Matt came over to stand beside Owen’s lounger, slid his hand into the pocket of shorts that seemed considerably shorter than the pair he’d been wearing earlier, and took out his phone.