Imperfect Harmony (14 page)

With Rhys panting behind him and urging him on, it didn’t take long at all.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me,” Rhys muttered. “It’s going to feel so good.” He tightened his grip, stroking harder. “Imagine this is my arse, how tight I’ll feel around your….”

“Fuck,” John groaned, and that was him done.

Afterwards John rolled Rhys onto his back and blew him until he was arching off the bed and cursing. John pulled off when Rhys was on the brink and finished him off with his hand. When he was done, Rhys pulled John down into a kiss, and when they finally separated, there was Rhys’s come all over both of them and John’s wet patch on the bed.

“I should swallow next time,” John said as he surveyed the mess they’d made.

Rhys grinned. “It feels so weird having sex again after not doing it for so long, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose….”

“I meant
good
weird, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“I should hope so. And yes, it does feel weird, but it’s definitely good.” John smiled at the sight of Rhys sprawled out on the sheets. Having someone in his bed was fun. Having
Rhys
there was wonderful. He sighed a happy sigh. “Okay. I need to get ready for work. Do you have to be somewhere this morning? If not, you’re welcome to take your time. You don’t need to leave when I do.”

“I’m working this morning too. A ukulele workshop with a class of thirty nine-year-olds.”

John laughed. “Wow. I’m not sure whether that sounds like fun, or like hell.”

“Probably a bit of both.”

“Want to share the shower, then, seeing as we’re both in a hurry?”

“Okay.” Rhys held out his hand and John pulled him up.

Showering with Rhys was good for getting John over any residual self-consciousness. He felt exposed at first, holding in his belly as Rhys rubbed the suds of the shower gel into John’s body hair.

“I love your fur,” Rhys said. “It’s so sexy.”

John grimaced again when Rhys made him turn around so he could wash his back. Nobody found back hair sexy, surely? John was a hairy guy and had never seen the point in waxing the fuzz that grew on his shoulders and in the small of his back. David hadn’t minded it, and since David, the last thing on John’s mind had been impressing anyone else—until now.

But Rhys made no comment at all, and when John turned around again, he noticed Rhys had a semi, so John’s back fur couldn’t have been a turn-off.

Rhys handed the shower gel to John with a smile. “My turn.”

Rhys was beautiful soaking wet and covered in bubbles. The ink on his skin emerged from under the suds as John swept them away with his hands, admiring the designs beneath again. John found the dark hair in Rhys’s armpits fascinating in its contrast to his pale skin. Rhys was ticklish, biting his lips and trying not to flinch away as John washed him thoroughly there. It made him want to take Rhys back to bed and pin him down, find all the other places that made him squirm. But they didn’t have time.

As they were getting dressed—Rhys into yesterday’s clothes because that was all he had—John said, “Presumably you can’t go straight to work. You must need to go home and change and pick stuff up for your lesson?”

“Yeah. I need the lesson plans, and although I dress casual in primary schools, I’d quite like to put a clean T-shirt on.”

“Do you have time for breakfast here?”

“As long as I’m quick, then I can nip home and grab my stuff. It’s at a local school so I’ll be biking it anyway.”

John didn’t like the idea of Rhys cycling. He knew it was irrational, and his anxiety talking, but cyclists were so vulnerable. “Do you have a car?”

“No. My mum lets me use hers sometimes. I like cycling, though. It’s the only exercise I get because I can’t be arsed with anything else.” He grinned and held out his arms. “You only have to look at me to tell I’m not the gym rat type.”

John thought Rhys was perfect just as he was. But he wasn’t sure how to say that without sounding cheesy, so he kept it to himself.

In the kitchen, John made them cups of tea while he waited for the toaster to pop. Rhys had helped himself to cereal and was sitting eating at the table. John looked out of the window as he stirred. The rain from yesterday had cleared, and the lightening sky was blue and clear outside the kitchen window.

“What are you humming?” Rhys asked.

John hadn’t noticed he was doing it, but when Rhys mentioned it he realised he was humming “I Can See Clearly Now.” John started singing it then, tapping the teaspoon on the side of the mug he’d been stirring to keep the rhythm.

“I love that song!” Rhys said. “I’ve been working on an arrangement of it for the choir, but I haven’t managed to get it right yet.”

“You were singing it the first time I saw you,” John said. Your voice blew me away before I even saw the rest of you.”

Rhys flushed and smiled.

John started singing again, and Rhys joined in, putting harmonies around the tune. They carried on until they got to the middle section with the crazy long note on the word “skies” where the key changed, and then it all fell apart.

“Yeah, that’s where I got stuck,” Rhys said ruefully. “It was hard to make that work for an a cappella arrangement. I think I need to be more creative.”

John had finished spreading butter and jam on his toast now, so the time for singing was over. He joined Rhys at the table and they ate in companionable silence.

When Rhys finished his breakfast, he put his bowl and cup by the sink. “Okay, sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got to dash. “No, don’t get up. I can let myself out.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder. “You’ve got toast crumbs in your beard.”

“One of the hazards of being a beard owner.” John brushed them away.

Rhys bent down to kiss him. “I’ll see you tonight, then?” he said as he straightened up.

“Um,” John frowned, confused for a moment.

“At choir… assuming you’re still coming?”

“Oh yes, of course. Definitely.” Maggie had been cleared to drive now, but John was well and truly hooked. Even if he hadn’t wanted to see Rhys, he’d be looking forward to singing tonight now that he remembered what day it was.

“Brilliant.” Rhys’s smile was wide, and John’s heart flipped as he grinned helplessly back.

John couldn’t stop grinning as he finished eating his toast, listening to the sounds of Rhys packing up and letting himself out. As he drove to work, he found himself singing “I Can See Clearly Now” as the sun rose.

This is what happiness feels like. I’ve missed it.

Even a tedious day, mostly spent covering history lessons at the Grove School for a teacher who was out on a training course, couldn’t dampen John’s spirits. He set the work the teacher had left and let the kids get on with it. He suspected half of them were actually on their phones under the desks, but as long as they were quiet and not throwing chairs around, that was good enough for him.

For the last lesson of the day, John was to cover a music lesson for a year eight class. Usually John disliked covering lessons in his own subject, but for the first time he found himself quite excited about it. The lesson plan involved singing rather than instrumental work, and inevitably that made him think about Rhys as he skimmed through the notes the teacher had left.

The kids were boisterous, but enough of them were enthusiastic with it that they ended up being quite fun to teach. John revised the song with them—a three-part round from Zimbabwe—and by the end of the lesson he had them making a great sound. Even some of the most reluctant singers looked quite impressed with themselves.

“Good job,” he said to them as the bell went. “That was great.”

“Thanks, sir,” one of the girls said to him on the way out of the door. Her friends giggled, but the girl sounded genuine. “That was a fun lesson.”

When the kids finished filing out of the classroom, Anna Dawson, the head of the Music Department, came in.

“Hi, John,” she said. “Sounds like you were having fun with 8R.”

“Yeah.” He glanced up from packing up his notes. “It went quite well, I think.”

“We’re losing Tim Schofield at the end of this term. He’s just handed in his notice—he got a job as head of department over at St George’s School. We’ll be advertising the post at the end of the week. It’s full-time and permanent. I wondered whether you’d be interested?” She smiled.

“Oh.” John stared back, not sure what to think. He realised this wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting; a little more enthusiasm was appropriate. “I… um. Yes, maybe.” He let himself imagine it. A permanent job in the area, teaching his own subject again. Perhaps he was ready for that. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Good. With your level of experience, you’d be a strong applicant. Okay, I’ll let you get on. Thanks, John.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

He looked around the classroom after she’d gone, taking in the displays on the wall about famous composers and different styles of music, the racks of instruments against the walls, and the empty seats where the students had been. He felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of planning lessons again, inspiring kids to learn, instilling them with an appreciation of music.

Yes, maybe it was the right time to reclaim this part of his life too.

Choir that evening was equal parts exhilarating and embarrassing. John felt like a teenager with a crush as he tried to avoid catching Rhys’s eye, because when he did he couldn’t stop himself blushing.

When John and Maggie arrived, he and Rhys had greeted each other casually. They weren’t the first there this week, and Rhys was already busy chatting with one of the other women. He’d given them a wave and a smile, but that was all.

John was a mess of hormones and fluster.

When Rhys came over to the basses to go through a part with them, John kept his eyes on the lyrics Rhys had handed out, glad of somewhere else to look. But then he had to look at Rhys for the timing when he was conducting. All he could think about was that he knew what Rhys looked like naked now, and vice versa. He kept imagining Rhys’s graceful body spread out on his bed and remembering Rhys whispering in his ear that morning, telling him how much he wanted John to fuck him. John flushed all over at the thought.

The way Rhys controlled the choir had John hot and bothered too. He wasn’t bossy or loud about it; he just had them so completely in his thrall that a nod or the flick of a hand had them doing exactly what he wanted them to do. It was sexy as hell to watch.

At the end of the session, John didn’t want to leave without speaking to Rhys, but he didn’t know how to approach him without an excuse.

He needn’t have worried, because Rhys came to talk to him anyway.

“Hi,” Rhys said.

“Hi.” It already felt weird to John that he couldn’t greet Rhys with a kiss or a hug. His fingers itched to touch. The other people still in the room seemed oblivious to their little bubble of awkwardness. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks.” Rhys smiled, then asked, “When do you want to get together again?”

“Um….” John looked around nervously, wondering if anyone was listening, but nobody seemed to be paying them any attention. “How about Friday? We can run through some stuff for Saturday at Beech House.”

“I don’t think we need to do much practice. We were pretty good last night.”

The grin on Rhys’s face implied that he wasn’t only talking about the songs they’d worked on. John blushed to the tips of his ears.

“I guess,” he mumbled. When he glanced around this time, he caught Maggie watching them curiously over the shoulder of the lady she was talking to.

Rhys cleared his throat, snapping John’s attention back. “I was thinking…. Maybe we could go out, get a bite to eat somewhere, then I could come back to yours after—to practice.” There was that grin again, hopeful but a little nervous this time.

John realised Rhys was asking him out on a date. John hadn’t been on a date in over twenty years. He felt slightly terrified at the prospect, yet also excited, and touched that Rhys had asked him. He was glad this new understanding between them wasn’t just about sex for Rhys, because John knew there was more to it for him.

“Yes, that sounds good.”

Rhys’s features relaxed into a smile of relief. “Great. Let’s text each other to work out the details.”

“Are you ready to go, John? We’re the last ones here again.”

Maggie had come over and was standing by his side. The room had cleared, and John wondered how much Maggie had heard.

“Oh yes, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“No worries. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I think the caretaker wants to lock up anyway. I can hear him jingling his keys in the corridor.”

“Yes, he’s in a hurry to get home. I’d better finish packing up,” Rhys said.

“Bye then, Rhys, see you next week.” Maggie leaned on her stick and turned towards the door.

“Bye.” John held Rhys’s gaze for a moment.

Rhys licked his lips, and it made John think about kissing him again. “See you Friday,” Rhys said. He gave John a small smile and quirked his eyebrow in a way that got John all riled up again.

He followed Maggie out to his car, willing away an erection and wondering how he could be forty-two years old and getting all worked up over a smile.

“So… Friday?” Maggie raised her eyebrows as she leaned on the car waiting for John to unlock it.

“Hmm?” John tried to act innocent even though he knew what she was asking.

“You’re seeing Rhys on Friday. That’s nice.”

It wasn’t a question, so John didn’t see any point in denying it. Rhys hadn’t been particularly discreet when they made the arrangement, but John wasn’t sure how much Rhys would want Maggie to know.

“We’ve been meeting up to practice songs for Beech House.” John helped Maggie into her seat and closed the door for her.

When he got in the driver’s side, he hoped the conversation was over.

Apparently it wasn’t.

“I think it’s good, that you two are friends.”

John didn’t know what to say. They were friends, of course, but he had a feeling Maggie already suspected they were more than that. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. It wasn’t like he’d ever been in the closet. But Rhys was so much younger than he was, and John worried what people might think about the age difference. He swallowed, embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Yes.”