Imperfect Harmony (21 page)

“Your new boyfriend?” Max still looked incredulous, but he fought some internal battle and managed to get his expression under control. “Well, okay then. Hi, Mr… uh… John, I guess?” He held out his hand.

“John’s fine. Hello, Max.”

Rhys had to admire John’s composure. The pinkness was still colouring his cheeks, but he met Max’s gaze as they shook hands.

“Is dinner nearly ready, Mum? I’m starving.” Max moved to stand behind his mum, looking over her shoulder as she stirred gravy briskly in a pan. “God, that smells good.”

Rhys was grateful to Max for giving them some breathing space. “Sorry,” he mouthed at John.

John shrugged mutely and gave Rhys a slightly feeble smile.

After the shaky start, dinner actually went pretty well. Max was on his best behaviour and only accidentally called John “Mr Fletcher” once when he asked him to pass the salt. John simply quirked an eyebrow at him and Max apologised immediately. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not trying to be funny. It’s going to take me a while to think of you as ‘John,’ okay?”

John actually smiled at that. “It’s fine,” he said, and Rhys’s heart lifted at the thought that John might be around long enough for Max to get used to calling him by his first name.

After they’d eaten, Rhys sent his mum away to put her feet up on the sofa while she finished the glass of wine.

Rhys washed up, John dried, and Max put things away. Then Rhys put the kettle on and made a round of coffee or tea for everyone except Max, who claimed he had homework to finish and escaped back up to his room.

“By
homework
he probably means computer games,” Rhys’s mum said with a wry twist of her lips. “But as long as I don’t get too many text messages about lunchtime detentions, I let it pass. He seems to manage to keep on top of his homework somehow, even though I rarely see him doing any.”

John chuckled. “I think a lot of kids have got it down to a fine art. They just do the minimum required to get away with decent marks.”

“Yep,” Rhys agreed. “I know I was an expert at that. It’s amazing what you can get done at break time if you have to. He’ll probably copy it off one of his mates or cut and paste something from the Internet.”

Rhys had meant it as a joke, but the matching expression of mild disapproval on his mum’s and John’s faces was a little disconcerting. He was suddenly forcibly reminded that he was a lot closer in age to his younger brother than he was to his boyfriend. When he was alone with John, Rhys truly didn’t give the age difference any thought. It really didn’t matter to him. But for the first time, he understood why John might feel uncomfortable about it; he seemed to be so much more aware of it than Rhys.

His mum changed the subject after an awkward pause. “So, John, do you know when you’ll hear more about the job you’ve applied for?”

“The deadline for applications was Friday, so I expect they’ll be shortlisting this week and calling people for interviews soon.”

“You’re bound to get one, surely?” Rhys asked. “Given that they invited you to apply?”

“Hopefully,” John said.

They chatted for a little longer about work-related things. Rhys asked his mum about her week, which had been busy. They were short staffed at the surgery due to the usual rounds of winter viruses, so she’d had to cover for a colleague and work on her day off.

When she started yawning, John took that as his cue. “Thank you so much for dinner,” he said, standing up. “But I’d better make a move. It’s getting late. No… don’t get up,” he added as Rhys’s mum made as if to rise. “Thanks again. It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too, John. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“I’ll see you out,” Rhys said.

In the hallway, he got John’s coat off the peg for him and watched as he put it on, then wound John’s scarf around his neck. “I could come back with you if you want?”

Rhys didn’t want John to leave. After another weekend together, it felt weird to be going their separate ways, even if only for a few days.

“No. You should stay here tonight. I think your mum will want to talk to you.” Rhys frowned. “About me, come on. You know what mums are like. I hope I made a good impression.”

Rhys moved closer and reached out to straighten the collar of John’s coat. “How could you not?” he asked softly. Then he pulled John in and leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips. The kiss was soft but lingered. Rhys half hoped the promise in it might make John change his mind and try to whisk Rhys back to his house for the night.

But when they parted, John gave him a rueful smile. “I’ll see you soon. Tuesday, maybe? Or Thursday?”

“Either. Both. Text me.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Rhys.”

Rhys couldn’t resist stepping forward and putting his arms around John for another kiss and then a hug. He breathed him in, warm and comforting and sexy. “Bye,” he finally said, letting John go.

He closed the door quietly and turned away with a heavy sigh.

“God, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” Max’s voice from the top of the stairs made Rhys jump. He looked up as Max came down the stairs.

“How long were you there for?”

“Long enough.” Max gave him an amused look, stopping on the bottom step so he was looking down on Rhys even though they were almost the same height. “Seriously, dude. I can’t believe you’re shagging one of my teachers!”

“He’s not one of
your
teachers.”

“He works at the school where I’m a student. Same difference. Whatever, I don’t care. It’s just weird. How old is he?”

“None of your business,” Rhys snapped. “What does it matter, anyway? We’re both adults. Age is irrelevant.”

“You sound a bit defensive for someone who doesn’t care.” Max shrugged then, and shouldered past Rhys, who had his hands clenched by his sides.

Rhys glared at Max’s back as he went into the kitchen. He was probably looking for leftovers already, the greedy bastard. Still fuming, Rhys went back into the living room and threw himself down on an armchair.

“Don’t let him get to you,” his mother said, obviously having heard their exchange. “You know how much he enjoys winding you up.”

“Yeah.” Rhys let the word out in an irritated huff.

“So. John seems nice….”

Rhys raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Her expression was fond, but there was a hint of concern there too. He braced himself for the
but
he knew was coming.

“I can see how much you care about him.”

Okay, that wasn’t what he’d expected. Rhys felt his cheeks heat, and he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged his lips up at the corners. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled too. “You’re rather transparent. It’s lovely to see you looking happy. He seems like a good man.”

“He is,” Rhys agreed, relieved.

“But….” And there it was. “Are you sure you want the same things? He’s obviously fond of you, but do you think he’s as serious about the relationship as you are?”

“I’m not that serious. It’s early days… we’ve only been seeing each other for three weeks,” Rhys protested.

But even as the words came out, he knew it wasn’t true. The fact that he knew exactly how long it was since they’d first kissed, first had sex, first slept together, first fucked, belied his insistence. All those milestones branded in his consciousness marked out the rapid descent of his fall for John.

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” his mum said knowingly. “When you click with a person, you know. And you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah.” It felt as though he’d known John much longer than the few weeks since they’d met.

“I just think… perhaps you need to talk to him about where he sees things going for you? I’d hate to see you hurt because you’re expecting more than he’s able to give you.”

“Yeah,” Rhys said again, picking at the skin around one of his nails so he didn’t have to look at his mum. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have because it was forcing him to examine some rather uncomfortable worries he’d been trying to ignore for the last couple of weeks. “Okay, maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it. But I’m really tired, so I’m going to go next door and get ready for bed.” He got up, still avoiding her eyes.

“Rhys?”

He looked at her reluctantly, and she gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry to interfere, but I worry about you.”

“I know.” She always had, and she was even more fiercely protective of him since Lyle. “It’s okay.”

She stood up and put her arms out. Rhys went, hugging her tightly until the comfort seeped into him.

“Thanks, Mum,” he said when he finally pulled away. “Goodnight.”

“Night, love.”

Back in his own flat, Rhys felt deflated and edgy.

He turned the TV on and tried to watch it, but his mind kept wandering along difficult paths that all had gloomy destinations.

His mum was right. He and John needed to have The Talk about their relationship. They needed to work out whether it had a future or was just a bit of fun in the here and now. Rhys knew what he wanted; he had to hope John felt the same.

When they were together, it was hard to believe John didn’t want something serious, something that would last—or at least that he wanted to try for that, because there were never any guarantees. What they had was good. Their relationship was built on trust, on shared interests and empathy, and the chemistry was definitely there.

In his heart of hearts, though, Rhys knew John was uncomfortable with the age gap sometimes. Maybe he thought Rhys was too young to settle down with him, or perhaps John would prefer to be with someone closer to his own age. Someone with less ghosts than Rhys. Although maybe it was the ghosts in John’s past that were the problem.

John had been with David for so many years. Rhys had seen his mum go through losing a long-term partner—albeit to a break-up rather than a bereavement—and he knew how difficult she found the thought of starting again with someone new. Rhys could never replace David, and he wouldn’t want to. He couldn’t compete with what John had lost.

Sighing, Rhys gave up trying to watch television; he couldn’t focus. But there was no way his mind would let him sleep yet.

He got out his guitar and went back to the song he’d been working on for the last few days. The working title was “Second Chances,” which seemed apt given that it was inspired by his relationship with John. He had the tune and chords worked out now, but only snatches of lyrics. The tune fitted the tone of the words he had so far: sweet, wistful, and hopeful, yet with a hint of melancholy.

He strummed the chords and hummed the melody, fitting in fragments of phrases as he went. Every now and again, he paused to scribble something down. The minutes stretched out, spinning into an hour, then more. When exhaustion finally rolled over him in a heavy wave, Rhys set the guitar aside to yawn and stretch his aching shoulders. He looked down at the words he’d written and smiled.

Still a work in progress, like the relationship it was based on, but it was starting to make sense. He was nearly there.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

They didn’t see each other before choir on Wednesday, and John was aware of missing Rhys, a slight hollowness in his chest. Nothing like the raw, unsubtle ache of grief, but a delicate longing.

Originally they’d planned to get together on Tuesday night, but then John was called for an interview on Wednesday, so he’d wanted to prepare for that at home.

When he arrived at choir, Rhys greeted him with a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek, heedless of Maggie, who was back this week, and a couple of other early arrivals. Nobody reacted, so John presumed the news of their relationship had filtered through the choir now, as such things tended to. Small-town gossip was impressive like that.

“How was the interview?” Rhys asked.

“I think it was okay. I’m not the best at them, as you can imagine. I’m not very good at selling myself. But I really tried. They observed me doing a lesson with a year eight class too, and that went pretty well.”

“When will you hear?”

“By Friday at the latest. They’re interviewing two more candidates tomorrow, and then they’ll decide.”

More people interrupted them, arriving and coming to sign in. John left Rhys to it and went over to chat to the other basses. Ken greeted him warmly and engaged him in conversation, the awkwardness of last week forgotten.

At the end of the session, John hung back as the others made their way out. Maggie tactfully excused herself to go to the toilet, leaving John and Rhys alone for a few minutes.

“I’ve missed you this week,” Rhys said.

John had been trying to guard his feelings around Rhys since the week before when he’d seen Rhys’s lyrics. But when Rhys said things like that, with his heart on his sleeve and his feelings written all over his face, it was impossible not to respond honestly. “Me too. It feels like ages.” His heart tugged in Rhys’s direction as he thought about his empty bed at home. “Want to come back to mine again?”

Rhys’s lips curved in a mischievous smile. “I thought you’d never ask.” He nodded at a small sports bag tucked under the table in the corner. “I was going to suggest it myself, so I came prepared.”

When Maggie came back, John blushed hard. “Um… Rhys is coming back with me tonight.”

Maggie, bless her, barely batted an eyelid. “That’s nice” was all she said.

At the car, she tried to climb into the back, but Rhys insisted and went ahead of her. “No, no. The front’s more comfortable.”

They sat in awkward silence as John drove through the night-time streets. John kept wondering what Maggie might be thinking about him taking Rhys home to spend the night. He was blushing the entire drive back, and he was surprised the car windows didn’t steam up with the heat of his embarrassment.

They flanked Maggie to help her to her front door. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, and it was dark and the path was uneven in places.

“Thank you,” she said as they released her. “Have fun. But don’t keep each other up all night.”

“Maggie!” John wanted the ground to open up, but Rhys just snorted.