Page 50 of The Other Side

“I’m not sure.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I panicked.”

“I noticed.”

Osian covered his face with one hand. “Can we pretend the last ten seconds didn’t happen?”

“No chance.”

Drum was still smiling as he reached for another pepper and chunk of halloumi, swirling them in the dressing.

“You know,” Drum said softly, “I like this.”

“The food?”

“Yes, but this.” He gestured between them. “Sitting here. Eating together. Making each other smile. It’s something I’ve never had. Not since we were kids. And it’s different now.”

“It is.”

“I’ve been lonely.”

Osian put out his hand and laid it over Drum’s. “Not any more. Never again.”

Their eyes met and neither of them looked away. The kitchen suddenly felt much smaller. Osian became acutely aware of the distance between them, just the width of the table, close enough to notice the tiny scar near Drum’s eyebrow, the flecks in his eyes, the way one corner of his mouth lifted before the other when he smiled.

“You’re staring,” Drum said.

“I know.”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

Osian shook his head. “I like looking at you.”

Heat crept into Drum’s cheeks. “That’s a bit tricky.”

“Why?”

“Because now I can’t remember how conversations work.”

Osian laughed. “We don’t have to talk.”

Their fingers curled together naturally, as though they’d done it a hundred times before. They had, but a lifetime ago.

“I think you should take your top off now,” Drum said softly.

“I thought you’d forgotten how to converse?”

“I’m not thinking about talking.”

Osian stood up and peeled his T-shirt over his head. Drum let out a breathy sigh. He pushed to his feet and walked round to stand in front of him.

“Your skin is golden,” Drum whispered. “Are you like that all over?”

“Possibly.”

Drum pushed the table out of the way, then dropped to his knees in front of him and Osian forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.