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# What's Up, Pussycat?

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# Louise Lyons

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COPYRIGHT

What's Up, Pussycat? © 2017 Louise Lyons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

More from Louise

# Chapter One

Cupping cold hands around my mouth, I breathed out and rubbed them together to warm them. A thick frost covered the ground, and the January air stung my nostrils. I watched my breath curl from my mouth like steam and blow away in the breeze.

Stillness blanketed the graveyard. No one else was crazy enough—or desperate enough—to visit their loved ones in the middle of the night in sub-zero temperatures. But I'd lost Andrew at exactly two o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, six months earlier. Every week since then, at that exact time, I religiously visited Andrew, whatever the weather and however I felt.

Tears welled in my eyes and tracked down my cold cheeks. I felt their faint warmth as they made their way to my chin and dripped onto my jacket. I blinked and glanced around the area. The moon, bright in the cloudless sky, cast an eerie light over the grave stones. I returned my gaze to Andrew's stone, from which a long shadow almost reached my toes. Stretching out one foot until the shadow covered it, I let out a shaky sigh. I was lost. Lost and alone.

It had been a freak accident that took Andrew. No other vehicles had been involved. Andrew's car left the road on a bend when its tires hit a patch of spilled oil. An unforgiving road sign had been in the way. The doctors reported he died instantly and wouldn't have suffered any pain. I hadn't been with him at the time, and not a day had passed since, when I hadn't wished I'd been in the car, too.

Andrew had been performing in a theater in Leicester. His troop had already played in their home city of Nottingham for three months, and the Leicester run had almost been at an end. After that it would have been Birmingham and finally, London.

Andrew refused the offer of accommodation in Leicester, and insisted on driving home every night so he could be with me as much as possible. The journey was only thirty miles and he'd done it six days a week. On one of those days—usually Fridays—I made the journey instead so I could watch the show, and we spent the night in a hotel. I never grew tired of seeing Andrew perform, however many times I saw whichever musical he'd been a part of. That time it had been _Cats_. Andrew played a character named Mistoffelees—a black cat with white "paws" and face, who danced and performed magic. He was magnificent, and I watched each dance in awe. Sometimes I wished I'd made more effort to continue my own acting and dancing career, but I never had the confidence of my lover. I took a step back and concentrated on writing instead.

"Why did you leave me?" I whispered aloud. It was a question I'd asked many times, usually when I sat on the bench just feet away from where Andrew had been laid to rest. "Seven years wasn't enough. You said we'd have forever. Remember? Every year on the anniversary of the day we met, you said it was one more year in the rest of our lives. What am I supposed to do now?" My voice cracked and more tears rolled down my cheeks, quickly becoming a stream. The agony of losing the man I'd been with since I was eighteen—the only man I'd ever been with—hadn't lessened since we'd been parted. Twenty-six visits and each one had seen me paralyzed on the bench, blinded by tears and unable to see a way forward.

"I'm sorry, darling. What must you think of me?" I scrubbed at my cheeks and sniffed hard. My weeping always ended the same way—with apologies and promises to do better, that I never managed to keep. "I can almost hear you saying, 'come on, man, get a grip. Life won't live itself.' Remember saying that? I'd get all upset about absolutely nothing sometimes and you'd tell me how silly I was being and... and k-kiss my tears away."

Another sniff and I wiped my face with my sleeve. I shivered from head to foot. The cold had seeped through my duffel coat and jeans, and my feet were numb. I'd forgotten to wear gloves, and I could barely feel my fingers as I pushed up my sleeve to look at my watch. Almost three. I'd been there an hour.

I stood slowly and looked down at the yellow rose I'd placed on Andrew's grave when I arrived. I always brought one flower of a different type or color each week, because Andrew had been a keen gardener and loved a lot of color. He'd always complained that winter was mostly green and brown. I couldn't tell a flower from a weed, so I visited a florist every Saturday and purchased a single bright bloom from the kind, elderly lady behind the counter.

"I have to go now, my love. I'll see you next week. Don't go anywhere, okay? I love you."

I returned to my car and started the engine. Ice had already begun to form on the glass. I turned up the heater and sat there for a few minutes to thaw out both myself and the car. By the time the ice had turned to water and trickled down the windshield, I was in control again.

I drove home to the little house with its overgrown garden that I'd shared with Andrew since our first anniversary. I didn't bother to switch on any lights. I went upstairs, stripped down to my underwear, and crawled into the narrow bunk in the guest room. I hadn't been able to sleep in the master bedroom since I lost Andrew.

Sleep came quickly and at last I could forget, for a few short hours.

# Chapter Two

"Finley, you look terrible, love. Did you go to the grave again last night?" Carol McInnes, Andrew's mother, bustled around the kitchen, helping herself to coffee and grimacing over the sour milk. She visited at least once a month to check on me. She and Andrew's father had coped much better than I had. They'd been devastated by the loss of their son, but they still had two other sons they doted on. They'd welcomed me from the first day Andrew introduced us, and treated me as part of the family.

"I go every week," I reminded her.

"I know, and it's not good for you. You can't live in the past forever. What do you think Andrew would have said to you?"

"Get a grip," I answered automatically. "Life doesn't live itself."

"Exactly. You haven't been living since he left us. Don't you think he'd want you to move forward and try to be happy?"

I nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"He wouldn't want you to spend your life alone and unhappy," Carol went on.

"I'm not ready to see anyone else. I can't even imagine it."

"I didn't suggest you go out and find a date, unless you want to. If you think Andrew would have any objections to that, then you're wrong. He'd want you to find love again. But aside from that, you need to find an interest or some friends. Something to get you out of the house and occupy you. I hate to see you so despondent. You work and sleep and talk to him, and that's all."

"I know. I'll be okay. I just need a bit more time."

"It's been six months, sweetie. I wish you'd come over and have dinner with us sometimes at least. Do you visit your own folks?"

I shrugged again. I hadn't forgiven my parents for refusing to visit Andrew and me. They'd tolerated it when I came out to them at seventeen, but their disapproval had been evident. They'd always been aloof, as far back as I could remember, but finding out they had a gay son had widened the gap between us. They met Andrew on a couple of occasions, but they hadn't wanted to acknowledge their son meant to spend the rest of his life with another man—or seven years of it. Since Andrew died, my mother telephoned me and visited a few times, but I made it clear I'd rather she continued to keep her distance. The last time I saw or heard from her had been two months ago.

Carol stayed a couple of hours and made use of my kitchen to cook a light meal for us. She'd been more of a mother to me than my own flesh and blood, and I loved her dearly. Every time I looked at her face, I saw Andrew. He'd been so like his mother, with his chestnut hair and bright turquoise eyes. Strangely, he'd had nothing physical in common with his father except for the dimple in his chin.

I spent the rest of the day sprawling on my large leather sofa, watching TV and thinking. Several times my attention was drawn to the pictures around the room that I hadn't had the heart to put away—pictures of Andrew and me. There were several shots taken on various holidays: standing together on a beach in Barbados, at the top of a mountain in Austria, and on a cruise in Canada. We'd traveled a lot and loved to explore new places. I couldn't imagine going abroad somewhere new without Andrew.

My gaze landed on the framed photo on the coffee table—the one of Andrew as Mistoffelees. He was sitting in his dressing room, beaming from ear to ear after the first night of the show. He still had full makeup on—whiskers and all. His eyes shone with delight at how well things had gone, and I remembered exactly what he'd said after I took the photo.

" _I wish you were doing this with me, babe. You'd have made a gorgeous cat."_

I hadn't been on the stage in three years, and I wondered whether I'd be capable of performing. I'd never taken a lead role in anything, but I'd been in the _Lion King_ for a year as Scar. That had probably been the only time I enjoyed myself on stage. It had all been downhill from there, and I accepted it wasn't for me.

I picked up the entertainment magazine with Andrew's name on it, that continued to arrive in the post every month. I'd never bothered to contact them to cancel it, and I hadn't been able to bring myself to open it. The six copies I received sat on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, still in their plastic wrappers.

I tore open the latest issue and flicked idly through the pages. There were pictures and articles on the current London shows, and several pages about smaller musical troops, including the Nottingham-based one Andrew had been a part of. They had a two-page spread on _Cats_ , with an advertisement in the middle.

" _Auditioning for Skimbleshanks, Mistoffelees, and Victoria, January 31. Roles to start March 1 for a six-month run in London. Call for an appointment."_

The troop had changed actors every so often when the existing ones needed to move on, or weren't doing a good enough job. After Andrew died, his understudy played Mistoffelees for a month while they ran auditions. A young guy named Matthew Cartwright had played Mistoffelees ever since, but apparently he'd had enough, or they'd had enough of him. It sounded as if he were meant to finish the Birmingham shows, then a new actor would take over for London.

Sighing, I tossed the magazine aside. I could never do it. I couldn't even imagine auditioning, let alone performing on stage night after night in front of hundreds of people. I turned my attention back to the TV, but my gaze was drawn to the photo of Andrew in his cat costume again and again. It was almost as if my lover was speaking to me.

" _You can do anything you want, babe. Anything you put your mind to. I believe in you."_

"Could I?" I wondered aloud. "Could I be Mistoffelees?" I tried to picture myself in that costume, with white legwarmers and gloves on, and my face painted to resemble a cat's. I knew the songs and the solo dance Mistoffelees had to perform. I'd rehearsed it with Andrew over and over, until Andrew could do it perfectly without thinking about it. I was the same height and build as Andrew—five seven with a slim, toned body. Mistoffelees was supposed to be small and the height limit for his character was five eight.

I imagined how it would feel to get on the stage again—terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I remembered what it felt like to look out over the sea of faces watching, and hear the cheers from the crowd at the end of an act. I was sure I wouldn't have the confidence to do anything about it, but how proud Andrew would be if I tried and somehow managed to succeed. Maybe it was just what I needed. If I could play the role Andrew had played and do it well, I'd no longer have to worry about how much I was letting him down with my endless moping and pining. He would be proud of me.

I snatched up the magazine again and leafed through the pages to find the article. Scanning through the ad until I found a telephone number, I pulled out my cellphone. I tapped in the number before I could change my mind.

"Good afternoon, this is Forest Theater Company. How may I help you?" A woman answered, sounding stiff and uninterested.

"Hello, my name's Finley Harrington. I'm calling to arrange an appointment to audition for the role of Mistoffelees. I understand you're auditioning on January 31."

"We've had an awful lot of calls. I'm not sure if there are any slots open. Hold on, please."

I listened to a clunk, followed my rustling and throat-clearing. Then the voice came again. "Eight thirty in the evening. Name, please?"

"Finley Harrington," I repeated. My heart thumped with nervous excitement.

"You'll need to present yourself at the company headquarters fifteen minutes prior, to sign in. Please bring a photo identification such as your passport or driver's license," the woman reeled off. "Do you need to take down the address?"

"No, I know it, thanks."

"Thank you. Good-bye." The phone went dead before I could say anything else. I put down my phone and looked at the photo of Andrew once more.

"I did it, Andy. I got an audition."

# Chapter Three

I arrived at Forest Theater Company's large building at eight o'clock. I'd spent the past two weeks practicing Mistoffelees' solo dance at every available opportunity. It hadn't been easy in my small living room, but I managed. I could hardly prance around the garden, six inches deep in snow as it had been for the past week.

I visited Andrew on Saturday nights as usual, and I still left with my eyes and throat sore from crying, but at least I had something positive to say. I'd been able to tell Andrew about the audition, and I imagined I heard my lover encouraging me, the way he always had.

" _You can do it, babe. Believe in yourself the way I do."_

I presented my passport at the desk in the lobby of the building and signed a form. I was instructed to go up to the second floor where there was a changing area, should I wish to change my clothes. I ran up the stairs two at a time and found the large room, already occupied by at least twenty young men and women in various stages of dress. The girls must have been auditioning for Victoria, the white cat in the musical. The boys would be either for Mistoffelees, or Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat.

A few people glanced in my direction, but no one spoke. All were engrossed in what they were doing. Some were putting on outfits and makeup to appear as cat-like as possible, while others donned leggings, leotards, and ballet shoes. I stood in a corner as I stripped off my fleece tracksuit to reveal the leggings and lycra T-shirt I wore underneath. Over the leggings, I wore loose shorts, feeling shy about the clingy outfit that drew attention to my crotch. I took off my socks and slipped my feet into the black dance shoes I'd dug out of my closet two weeks earlier when I began to practice.

_Don't let me fuck this up_ , I prayed silently, as I sat down and looked at the clock on the end wall of the room. Ten more minutes.

A door opened and two girls came out, one dressed as a white cat and the other in a leotard. The door swung shut and they went to where they'd left their belongings and began to change. The speaker on the wall above my head crackled and a tinny voice issued from it: "Catherine Clarke and Mike Jones, please."

A girl and a boy rose from their seats and disappeared into the room. I folded my arms and tried not to fidget. My heart raced and my stomach churned. I hoped I wouldn't throw up, and I took deep breaths in an effort to quell the nausea. It was only then I remembered the terrible stage-fright I'd suffered in the past. It made me question whether I was doing the right thing. If I got the role, I'd dread every show, and this time I'd be putting more pressure on myself than before—I wouldn't want to let Andrew down.

I'm out of my mind. The small amount of confidence I'd summoned to enter the building slipped away, and my imagination saw me tripping over in the audition, and falling on my ass in front of whoever was judging the performances. I'd make a fool of myself, and I'd have to visit Andrew the next day and admit I failed.

"James Broughton and Finley Harrington, please."

I jumped at the sound of my name. Several minutes had passed and I hadn't noticed the previous applicants leave the room. I got up and walked to the door. A tall blond man wearing a waistcoat and carrying a cane got there ahead of me. James Broughton was apparently after the role of Skimbleshanks, judging by his outfit.

"Hey," James greeted, as he pushed open the door. "Which one are you?"

"Mistoffelees."

"Skimble." James grinned and stepped through the door. "Good luck, mate."

"Thanks, you too." I followed him.

The room behind the door was huge and looked as if it took up most of the floor of the building. At each end, a long table was situated, with two people sitting behind each. I immediately recognized Maurice Lipman, the stage director who had founded Forest Theater Company. I got to know him well when I'd been part of the _Lion King_. He was difficult to please, but profuse with his praise when things went well. Sitting beside him was a woman I didn't know.

"Mr. Harrington," Maurice called out. "You're here for Mistoffelees."

"Yes." I nodded.

"Where do I know you from? Come over here." Maurice beckoned, and I walked forward. James was instructed to approach the other table at the far end of the room. Before I had the chance to open my mouth, Maurice spoke again. "Of course, you were Andrew McInnes' other half, weren't you? We were all devastated by what happened. I'm so sorry. How are you coping?"

"Um..." I gulped, not having expected Maurice to bring up Andrew like that. "I'm, um, I've been better. But thanks for asking."

"You were a dancer too, weren't you? Scar most recently, as I recall. Terrible stage-fright. And yet you're back here again. Why?"

"Um, I wanted to dance as Mistoffelees to honor Andrew," I said clearly. "I know the songs and dances off by heart from when I helped him rehearse. I need to move on and do something with myself. I would very much like the opportunity to perform again."

Maurice nodded, while the woman beside him narrowed her eyes and tapped a pencil on the notepad in front of her. I wondered if she believed me, or if she thought I was trying to get the sympathy vote.

"Ah," Maurice said quietly. "Well, let's see what you've got." He looked over his shoulder at the man in the corner, whom I hadn't noticed so far. He sat beside a sound system apparently awaiting instructions. James was still talking to the people at the other table, and it seemed I was intended to audition first.

"Music for Mistoffelees, please!" Maurice called out.

I backed away from the table and took up my starting position. As the first few notes issued from the speakers around the room, I began to move. My nerves made me stiff and awkward at first, but after a few seconds I managed to forget about Maurice and the woman, and the others in the room. I imagined I was practicing at home by myself, the way I had been that morning. I twirled and leaped and gesticulated, imagining sparks and explosions issuing from my fingertips, the way they would on stage when the special effects were used. I pictured the character of Rum Tum Tugger standing nearby, singing the words of Magical Mr. Mistoffelees as I danced. When the music ended, I finished by stepping up onto a chair at the side of the room and performing a split jump, landing perfectly just feet in front of the table. I stopped, chest heaving from the exertion, eyes lowered, and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Hm," the woman uttered, and tapped her pencil some more.

"Nice, Mr. Harrington. Very nice." Maurice smiled. I lifted my gaze as the woman frowned at the director. "Wait there, please." Maurice pointed at the end of the table, and I moved aside as one of the people at the other table instructed the music man to play Skimbleshanks' song.

James Broughton was good—probably better than the current actor in that role. I gave him a surreptitious thumbs up when he finished, and James grinned.

"Thank you, both. You'll hear from us over the weekend," Maurice said. "You may go."

We both thanked him and slipped out of the room. "You were awesome." James patted my shoulder. "I hope you get the role. I heard what Mr. Lipman said."

"Thanks, I hope so, too." I wiped sweat off my face with the small towel I brought with me. "You were really good. Better than the current guy." I lowered my voice for that statement, and James beamed.

"Thanks, bud! Fingers crossed for us both, then."

I put on my warm outer clothes and set off for home. I didn't expect to get the role, even though Maurice had seemed impressed. I managed to pull off a good audition, but Maurice remembered my stage-fright and would probably be concerned it would interfere with the shows. Besides, I had a lot of competition. The changing room had been full of people getting ready to audition, and I remembered at least six with black cat outfits. The law of averages told me perhaps half of those in leotards or shorts and T-shirts, would be after the role of Mistoffelees as well.

I looked forward to seeing Andrew the next night. I hadn't heard from the theater company on Saturday, and even though I doubted I'd get the role, I was pleased I could tell Andrew I auditioned. I managed to smile for at least part of the time I sat on the bench looking at the carved letters in the gray stone. Andrew would be proud of me for getting this far. It was the first time I didn't spend the entire hour crying my eyes out. I wept, but only as I said good-bye and returned to my car.

# Chapter Four

The phone call came on Sunday afternoon. I had just ended a conversation with Carol and plugged my cellphone in to charge the battery, when it rang shrilly in the quiet room. I picked it up again.

"Hello?"

"Finley Harrington?"

"Yes."

"This is Maurice Lipman."

My pulse quickened, and I clenched my free hand into a fist as I waited for Maurice to speak again.

"I'm delighted to tell you we've decided to offer you the role of Mistoffelees."

"Oh my God! Really?" I turned to look at the photo of Andrew in his cat outfit, eyes wide.

"Yes, really." Maurice cackled a high-pitched laugh. "You sound surprised. I admit I was concerned that you haven't performed in three years, and the stage-fright thing—well, hopefully that won't be too much of an issue. I'm a soft touch. There were one or two better suited than you, but we all loved Andrew so much, and I thought it'd be too cruel not to give you a shot."

"You really didn't have to offer it to me out of sympathy." Disappointment dampened my excitement.

"Oh, believe me, that swung it, but I wouldn't have insisted if you'd been terrible. You need a little polish, but we have a month to sort that out. Now, how are you fixed for rehearsals? I'm assuming you're not in full time work?"

"Um, no. I work from home. A freelance writer."

"Good. Excellent. Twelve noon tomorrow, then. I'll be back in Birmingham with the cast by then, but my assistant will be taking charge. You and the other two new recruits will be rehearsing with the understudies. When the Birmingham tour comes to an end on February 24, there'll be three days for full cast and dress rehearsals before we move it to London. I trust you won't have a problem with relocating."

"I don't think so." I hadn't thought that far ahead. I was stunned I'd been offered the role, and the idea of moving away from Nottingham was an additional surprise.

"A number of studio apartments have been arranged for the cast. The finer details will be worked out later, but the rent is covered. You'll be expected to pay for utility bills and personal expenses only. Wages will be credited to your bank account weekly on Fridays."

I hadn't thought to ask about money, but it wasn't something that concerned me. I'd never had to worry about it, even after the rift between my parents and I developed. They set up a trust fund for me with money left by my grandparents, that I'd had access to when I turned twenty-one. I used it to help buy furniture for the house, but the rest of it remained untouched.

The call ended and I rang Carol to tell her. It never crossed my mind to call my mother. She'd probably make one of those disapproving "tutting" noises about me putting myself "in the limelight" again.

Carol was delighted for me and promised she and Andrew's dad and brothers would all come to one of the shows in London—the first one, if they could get tickets. I was glad of the support, but first I had to get through the rehearsals. I spent the rest of the day playing the DVD of the show and singing along to the songs in which I had to sing as part of the chorus, and I practiced Mistoffelees' dance until I was exhausted. I was determined I wouldn't fail. If I could perform in London and do a good job, I'd make Andrew proud and maybe, finally, I could start to move forward with my life.

# * * *

The first day of rehearsals went well. I was happy to discover James Broughton had the part of Skimbleshanks. He was a nice guy and I could see us becoming friends. The girl who'd been given the role of Victoria was a little princess who seemed to think she was perfect at everything.

The understudies were friendly and helpful and after my initial fears, I began to feel as if I could fit in and do well—better than I'd hoped.

James was the only one who knew about Andrew. We talked quietly over lunch, and James admitted he'd heard what Maurice said to me at the auditions. He commiserated and I asked him not to mention my situation to any of the others. The last thing I wanted was a dozen people saying they were sorry for my loss, or accusing me of getting the role because of Andrew. Both would upset me, and I wanted to focus on doing a good job rather than falling apart.

By the end of the day, I felt a small amount of pride in myself. I knew every word to every song and all the moves my character needed to make. James and Annette, who played Victoria, only knew their solo parts, and had to begin learning the rest from scratch.

"How come you know every little detail?" Annette asked as we prepared to leave. "Have you done this before?"

"No. I've just watched the show a lot," I replied. James winked and smiled.

"I suppose you know everyone else's parts as well, then." Annette pouted.

"Some. It doesn't hurt to be prepared." I grinned back at James as the girl shoved her ballet shoes into her bag and rammed her feet into a pair of boots. She apparently hated to be outdone. When she flounced out of the room, James and I chuckled.

"She needed to be brought down a peg." James winked. "I've met her at previous auditions. She thinks she's better than everyone else. You're doing great. I should have practiced more, but I didn't think I'd get the part, to be honest. At least we've got more than three weeks before we're on stage."

"Thanks, but I only know it from repetition. I rehearsed with Andrew virtually every day for months, and I went to the show once a week."

"That's dedication."

"Yeah." I swallowed hard as a lump formed in my throat. I lowered my gaze and finished getting changed. James didn't speak again, and the awkward silence was broken only by the sounds of some of the understudies preparing to leave. I mumbled a good-bye and left before James could reply. I accepted I would find this difficult, but I wondered if what I was doing was going to help me at all.

# Chapter Five

Rehearsals progressed well over the next few weeks. I had good days, when I went home feeling positive about the whole experience, and bad days when I convinced myself I'd fail as soon as I stepped on the stage. I didn't feel nervous when the cast practiced the songs and dances over and over, but I knew the minute they moved the rehearsals from the dance studio to the stage, even without an audience, my fears would kick in.

James became a good friend after the first couple of days, and we occasionally spent time together away from the theater company. James lived only a mile from me, and we hung out at a coffee shop part way between our homes. James lived with his mother and his teenage sister. He had a girlfriend who was in her last year of university in Manchester, and the pair planned to live together as soon as she finished her course and came home.

I rarely talked about Andrew, but I found myself telling James about how we met in our teens and spent the next seven years of our lives together. I described my years in boarding school, and my parents' disapproval of my orientation. James was the first person to show a real interest in my life since Andrew had been gone. It felt good to have a friend, and I realized how isolated I'd become in the past few months. Most of the friends I had previously had been friends of Andrew's, and we lost touch after he died.

February flew by and suddenly the run of shows in Birmingham was over. The cast returned to Nottingham to take over from the understudies with rehearsals in preparation for London. James, Annette, and I arrived at the theater company that Tuesday morning ready to meet the cast, and found most of the understudies absent. They would be sent for if required, but otherwise there was no longer a need for them to be present for rehearsals.

The members of the cast began arriving half an hour later when the three of us were warming up, and my impression of the first man through the door was one of shock. I'd seen Karl Rogers who played Rum Tum Tugger from a distance a few times when I attended the shows in Leicester, but never without his cat costume. He was tall—at least six feet—and his shock of peroxide hair and startling green eyes drew everyone's attention. His lycra leggings emphasized a large package, and a bright orange cropped T-shirt and matching ballet shoes completed his outfit. He charged into the room like a whirlwind.

"So! Who do we have here?" he shouted, looming over Annette and me, where we stood stretching our hamstrings. "You look weirdly familiar." He jabbed a finger in my direction, before turning his attention to Annette. "What a pretty kitty. What's your name, then, darling?" He pronounced the endearment "dahling" and I cringed. I hoped the rest of the cast weren't like Karl. I'd met a couple of them, but I preferred to keep my distance and monopolize Andrew when the shows were over.

"Annette," the girl said. "And that's Finley. The other guy is James."

Karl spun around to look at James, gave him a cursory nod, then turned back to me. He took a step closer, forcing me to look up.

"Cute!" Karl exclaimed. "Cat got your tongue?" He proceeded to shriek with laughter at his lame joke, and my face heated under the scrutiny.

"I've not had the chance to get a word in," I blurted, and immediately cringed. My voice tended to sound more refined when I was irritated. I couldn't help my parents or the school I'd gone to, but for the past few years I'd done my best to shake off the accent and sound more like everyone else. I knew Karl would say something, even before he opened his mouth again.

"Ooh, someone swallowed a silver spoon, didn't they? Wait. Finley? Finley Harrington? Golly, I'm surprised Mummy and Daddy let their little boy do something as lower class as performing on the stage. Shouldn't you be a lawyer or a doctor or something?" Karl spoke in an exaggerated tone, and my face burned.

"Wow, someone loves himself." James moved to my side and cocked an eyebrow at Karl.

"I have a sense of humor. You should try it some time." Karl laughed, and James scowled at him. The boisterous dancer ignored him, and draped an arm around Annette's shoulders. "You never told me your name, Kitty."

"Yes, I did. It's Annette."

"Victoria suits you much better, beautiful," Karl purred. Annette fluttered her eyelashes. James and I moved away to the other side of the room.

"Oh my God, what a dick," James whispered. "Have you met him before?"

"No, but I've seen him from a distance. Andrew never said much about him. I hope the rest of them aren't like him."

"No one else could love themselves that much." James wrinkled his nose and curled his lip. "He'll get on well with Annette."

I chuckled. "Hopefully he'll give her all his attention in the future."

The rest of the cast proved to be what I classed as "normal." Mostly they were more like James in attitude. None of them seemed to think themselves better than anyone else due to having spent months—or years, in some cases—on the stage. Karl behaved much the same way with many of them, and I noticed some merely ignored him and rolled their eyes, while others taunted him in return. They were clearly used to him, and I wondered if I'd ever get used to such a character, assuming I lasted six months in London.

The next couple of days of rehearsals were hectic and stressful. I didn't express my concerns, even to James, but I dreaded opening night in the theater. I was certain I'd freeze up on stage, or spend so much time in the dressing room with my head down the toilet, that my understudy would have to take my part. My feelings were mostly caused by lack of confidence, and my old stage-fright coming to the surface, but Karl Rogers didn't help matters. He must have realized he intimidated me, and that I didn't know how to respond, and consequently taunted me more. James and a couple of the other actors had words with Karl more than once, but he took no notice and continued to tease me when he caught me alone. The first full dress rehearsal was the last straw. It all went horribly wrong.

I loved my costume. I looked very like Andrew had in the black lycra suit, white fluffy legwarmers, and gloves, with a long black tail attached to the back of the belt. My face was made up white, with dark "fur" around the edges. My nose and lips were painted to look like a cat's, with "whiskers" either side of my nose. I gave myself a pep talk in the dressing room.

There's no need for stage-fright. I can do this, and Andrew will be delighted.

I managed not to freeze or throw up before I stepped out there with the chorus. At the beginning, it was fine. My heart raced and my mouth went dry, but I only had to move around and sing with the other characters, so the spotlight wasn't on me. It was only later, when Mistoffelees had his solo dance, that I panicked. Karl as Rum Tum Tugger prepared to sing the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees song, and my gradually-building confidence deserted me. I started well, but stumbled over my own feet on a twirl. After that humiliation, I was so certain I'd messed up beyond repair, that I forgot my steps and improvised. The whole thing was a shambles, and I couldn't get away from the astonished and amused expression on Rum Tum Tugger's face as he tilted his head on one side, catlike, and watched my every move.

I fled the stage, slammed into the dressing room, and sank onto a chair. I sweated and shivered, my heart thumping so hard I could barely distinguish one beat from the next. I'd fucked it up—irreparably. They were probably all laughing at me and shaking their heads. Maurice must think he'd made a huge mistake in offering me the role. As for Karl—I could only imagine what he would say when he appeared, any minute now, laughing all over his tabby face.

Anger filled me—anger than I'd let that man get to me so much. But at the same time, I was upset. I'd failed myself and I'd failed Andrew. I'd have to go groveling to Maurice and tell him I wasn't cut out for it, assuming Maurice didn't tell me to take a hike first. Unhappiness overtook the anger, and two fat tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I sunk my head into my hands and snuffled miserably, so intent on my own feelings I didn't hear the door open.

"What's up, Pussycat?"

I cringed at the sound of Karl's voice. He was the last person I wanted to see at that moment. I groped for some tissues to wipe my face, and just before I began to scrub at my tears, and my makeup along with it, Karl grabbed my wrists.

"Don't, you'll ruin your makeup."

I lifted my gaze to Karl's face. Strangely his expression was one of sympathy.

"What do you want?" I croaked. "Can't you leave me alone for two minutes?"

"They're all waiting for you. Maurice wants you to give the dance another go."

"Yeah, I'm sure he does. I'm sure he's waiting to tell me to go home and forget this stupid idea of being on the stage." I jerked my hands free and dabbed carefully at my cheeks.

"What happened out there?" Karl asked.

"I fucked up, or hadn't you noticed? I'm surprised you've nothing to say about it." I adopted his usual taunting tone. "Whoever heard of a cat falling over its own feet? Golly, Mummy and Daddy will be so disappointed."

Karl's face fell and he lowered his bright green eyes.

"Cat got your tongue?" I sneered.

"I'm sorry." He looked up again. "I mean it. I know I go too far sometimes. I only joke around, but I think everyone sees me as the clown and just laughs at the stuff I say. I'm sorry if I've said things that upset you."

"The trouble is, you don't think at all. You take the piss out of everyone and the hell with how they might feel about it." My anger returned and my tears dried. I was furious with the man who made my life a misery for the past two days. I'd started to dread the show even more than I dreaded the stage-fright, due to the thought of having to spend six months seeing him every day. I remembered I overcame the stage-fright before, and I could certainly do it again if I didn't have to contend with the idiot's torment. I sprang to my feet. "Do you want to know why I'm really doing this?"

Karl nodded silently.

"Remember Andrew McInnes?"

His eyes widened. "He was an amazing guy. Everyone loved—"

"Yeah, especially me. We were together for seven years. I'm doing this because I wanted to make him proud—to honor his memory. And you... you're fucking ruining it for me!" My temper slid away as quickly as it had appeared, and I choked on the last word. I turned away and breathed hard, trying to get myself together. When I caught sight of Karl in the mirror, the man was on his feet, mouth hanging open, his cat face a picture of shock.

"I didn't know," he whispered eventually. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it's my own business. Maurice and James know." I reluctantly turned back, and touched the tissues to the corners of my eyes again before more tears spilled over. "I didn't want anyone to think I got this role on a sympathy vote. I can only imagine what you'd have said about that."

"That's really what you think of me? I could be that cruel?" He looked crushed. "I'm sorry I've made you feel like that. Nothing I say means anything. I'm the first one to admit I'm full of shit. And I'll tell you something else. I know all about stage-fright. That's why I put on this stupid, over-confident act and tease everyone. It's like another character I step into so I can leave the shy, fearful Karl at the door and make a success out of this."

I raised my head, surprised. "You're telling me you're shy? That you lack confidence?"

"You haven't seen me backstage right before a performance. I'm usually throwing my guts up."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm trying to apologize. I want you to see who I really am. That I'm not the twat who's been ruining things for you. If you must know, your Andrew picked up on it pretty soon after we met. He saw right through me, and told me to find some other outlet for my stress than taking it out on other people. It worked for a while. That must be how I recognized you when we first met. I saw you at a distance with him." He paused and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Finley. You won't get any more trouble from me, I promise."

"It's probably too late anyway. I should think Maurice will fire me after what I just did." I wasn't sure what to think about what Karl had told me. He seemed genuine, but that didn't mean he wouldn't revert to his usual ways later.

"Of course he won't fire you. Everyone messes up occasionally. He'll tell you to get your ass back on stage and do the dance again. Come on." He offered his hand, palm up. I ignored it and bent to look in the mirror, checking I hadn't smudged my makeup.

"Go away, will you? I'll be out in a minute."

Karl left the room without another word, and I took a minute to prepare myself. Maybe all wasn't lost after all. I could hear Grizabella practicing _Memory_ , and I opened the door and listened for a few seconds.

"I can do this," I said aloud. "And I'm not just doing it for you, Andrew. I'm doing it for me."

# Chapter Six

Karl was true to his word. He didn't tease me anymore, and he toned it down with most of the others, too. He made an effort to speak to me whenever he could, but I wasn't quite ready to forget his taunts, and mostly ignored him.

Maurice said nothing about my clumsy dance, and the second time it all went perfectly. I danced and leaped and whirled around Karl as he sang, and never put a foot wrong. The full rehearsal the following day went just as well.

The group moved to London and took up residence in the block of studio apartments rented by the theater company. They were all furnished with a bed, a chest, a sofa, and a TV, with a small cooking area in one corner and a tiny bathroom consisting of toilet, sink, and shower. It was all that was needed and it meant none of the actors had to share.

I made an extra visit to Andrew the night before I left Nottingham, and explained tearfully that I wouldn't be around for six months. I intended to go back for the anniversary of his death, but otherwise, I would have to end my visits. I took the photo of Andrew as Mistoffelees with me, and put it in pride of place on the chest next to the bed in my apartment. Andrew would understand.

The cast had one night to settle in before opening night at the theater. I called Carol to tell her how things were going, then after some hesitation, I rang my mother. She answered in her usual pretentious voice.

"Good evening, Harrington residence."

"Mum, it's me."

"Finley! It's been so long since we heard from you." She sounded more pleased than I expected. "You must come and see us."

"I can't. I'm in London for the next six months. I'm in Cats, remember? It's opening night tomorrow."

"Oh! Yes, of course, you did mention it. I'm sure you'll be very good, dear."

"I'm sure." I wondered what the other cast members' mothers were like. Probably more like Carol. She and Andrew's dad hadn't been able to get tickets for opening night, but they were coming to the show the following week. Carol had gushed over me as if I were a big star.

James's parents were going to be at opening night, and Annette's mother was attending. It wasn't new to the rest of them, but some had family members coming to the shows, simply because it was in London.

I made small talk with my mother for a few minutes, but was relieved when a knock on my door interrupted the conversation. I ended the call, and opened the door to find Karl on the other side of it. He had one of the other studios on the same floor. I looked him up and down warily. Wet hair dripped down his neck, and his over-sized T-shirt was coupled with Bart Simpson pajama bottoms.

"What do you want?" We'd formed a kind of truce, but as hard as Karl seemed to be trying, I still didn't trust him.

"I, um, I just wondered how you're doing."

"I'm okay. You?"

"Shitting myself, actually." Karl laughed and tugged a hand through his hair. "Want company?"

I definitely didn't want company. I wanted to spend the evening talking myself out of my fears and chatting to Andrew. I hesitated before answering, and Karl spoke again.

"Sorry. Of course you don't. Not from me anyway. I'll, um, I'll leave you in peace."

An unwelcome pang of sympathy for Karl gave me pause. He had admitted to stage-fright and if he felt anything like I did, he'd be dreading the next day. No one else in the cast knew the real Karl, and he probably felt he didn't have anyone to turn to.

"Come in," I invited, resigned.

"Really?" His eyes widened.

"Yeah. I was going to have a beer. Do you want one?"

"Thanks." He closed the door behind him, and took a seat at one end of the sofa. "I see you brought Andrew with you." He nodded at the photograph.

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about him with you, okay?" I turned away to the mini fridge.

"Of course. What do you want to talk about? Tomorrow?"

"No, not really." I passed him a bottle of beer. I'd slipped out earlier to get some supplies. "Have you got anyone coming to opening night? Family?"

"No. I've been doing this for eighteen months. They come to a couple of the Nottingham shows, whatever musical I'm in."

"Yeah, of course."

"What about you?"

"Andrew's parents are coming next week."

"No family of your own?"

"I think they'd choke on their silver spoons if they were forced to sit through a musical." I was amazed to find myself joking, and I laughed along with Karl. As the evening progressed, I told him about my upbringing, boarding school, my parents' attitudes, and how I met Andrew. Despite stating I didn't want to talk about my love, that was exactly what I did. Two hours and three beers later, I'd told Karl about coming out, my parents' disapproval, meeting and loving Andrew, living together, and losing him. I talked with tears pouring down my cheeks while he listened mostly in silence, making the occasional sympathetic sound that almost mimicked a cat's purr.

"Sorry," I choked eventually. "I doubt you wanted to hear all that."

"I don't mind. It seems like you needed to get it out."

"Yeah, maybe." I blew my nose. "I didn't mean to ram all the gay stuff down your throat, though."

Karl giggled. Usually he cackled or let out loud belly laughs, but this time he giggled like a kid. "I'm gay, Fin," he said. "I'm surprised you didn't pick up on that."

"I'm not good at reading people. You flirt with Annette more than anyone else, and you fawn over Maurice like you want to lick his boots, but so do lots of people. Besides, Andrew's the only man I've ever been with. If I ever did manage to move on, I'd be clueless as to who's gay and who's not."

"I've known since puberty." Karl drained his last bottle of beer and slouched back on the sofa. "I hid it while I was at school. Kids can be little bastards—kind of like me. I even dated a few girls as a cover. I came out on the last day after the exams, in a stupid outfit and makeup, and announced it to anyone who'd listen, as if I was thumbing my nose at them all. It turned out some of them had guessed anyway." He shrugged. "I've dated a few guys, but none that lasted more than a few months. I'm not very good with relationships."

His admission surprised me. I was surprised by the evening in general, and I realized my fears about the first show had lessened as I shared them with a man who felt exactly the same.

Eventually, Karl returned to his own studio, and I changed and got into bed. Just a few more hours and I'd see how I coped with being in front of an audience again.

# Chapter Seven

There was a final rehearsal without costumes on the London theater's stage the following afternoon. A bus transported the cast from the accommodation block to the theater, and Maurice was at his most picky as we had our last practice run. For once it was Karl who made the more noticeable mistakes, when he had to perform his solo dance. He recovered from it, but by the time everyone was in the dressing rooms preparing for the show, he was just as nervous as I was, but more obvious about it.

"How are you coping?" James asked me.

"I feel sick," I admitted. I felt worse after hearing Karl vomiting in the toilets. I was tempted to hang around and offer comfort, but I hated anyone to see me when I was in that situation, and besides not wanting to embarrass him, I couldn't find it in myself to deal with someone's else's fears.

"You'll be fine. Once we get out there, it'll be just like rehearsals."

"Yeah, with hundreds of people staring at us. What if I fuck it up? I'll let everyone down."

"You won't fuck up. You're amazing, Fin. Stop worrying so much." James gave me a reassuring smile.

I did my best to get myself under control. I sat still with my eyes closed while my makeup was applied, then slipped away for a few minutes alone in the toilets. My nausea receded, but my heart pounded with fear, and I sweated under the lycra. I ran cold water in one of the sinks and dipped my hands in it for a few minutes to cool down.

When I returned to the dressing room, it was almost time and I didn't have the chance to get worked up again. The cats lined up ready to go on stage, and Maurice charged up and down giving instructions. This was it.

I spent the first half hour of the show inwardly shaking. I concentrated fiercely on every move and every word I sang, and told myself not to look out at the audience. Mostly it worked and by the time I had to do my solo, my fears were behind me. I found myself enjoying performing, and it surprised and pleased me. I knew it showed when I danced, and I delighted in the pre-set explosions and fireworks, arranged to look as if they were shooting from my fingertips. When I finished with the split jump, my main part was over and I slipped back into the chorus for the rest of the show.

After the cast collected in a row and bowed to the cheering audience, everyone scampered backstage, shouting and laughing with excitement. The first night was over and Maurice was delighted by how well things had gone.

"You okay?"

I turned to see Karl looking down at me. "Yes, I was shaking for half of the first act, but after that it just felt good. How about you?"

"Good. I'm always fine once I stop puking." He grimaced, then smiled. "Your solo was amazing."

"Thanks." I left him as we reached the dressing rooms, and everyone got changed and fought over mirror space to take off their makeup. Some of the cast went to meet family members and friends, and the others went out to get on the bus to go back to the apartments. I was one of the first on the bus and as I sat alone, I took the photo of Andrew out of my bag. I'd slipped it in there at the last minute when I left my studio.

"I did it," I whispered. "I did it and it was great. I was terrified at first, but then I just... I enjoyed it. I wish you could have seen me. Maybe somehow, wherever you are, you were watching." I held onto that thought as I waited for the bus to take me back to my studio.

Most of the cast wanted to celebrate that night, and both James and Karl asked me to join them, but I refused. They expressed concern that I might be wallowing, but I assured them I was fine, and only needed some time alone. They left me and I took a shower, got into bed, and lay thinking. I felt better than I had since I lost Andrew. I had finally taken the first step required to move on, and I knew my man would have been proud of me.

A single tear slid from the corner of each of my eyes and rolled into my hair, but they were no longer desperate, agonized tears. A blanket of sadness covered me, but at the same time there was hope and a certainty I could make a success of the rest of my life after all.

# * * *

After a week's performances, my confidence was improved, but the stage-fright didn't leave me. I continued to feel sick with nerves each night before the show, but no one knew about it other than James and Karl. I was surprised I was becoming friends with Karl, and I found my former tormentor to have a hilarious sense of humor and deep sense of loyalty. I wondered if Andrew would have liked him the way he was now. They hadn't been friends when they worked together, but Karl wasn't the same person he was then.

Andrew's family came to the show the following weekend as they'd promised, and I met them afterward for a late snack and drinks. Carol had a few quiet words with me away from the others, and told me she noticed a difference in me, in just the short time we spent together. I was brighter and more confident. My eyes had life in them again.

Her words made me feel even better about things. I still spoke to Andrew every night, but the one-sided conversations no longer brought me to tears, and I was happy in the knowledge that I was doing what Andrew had loved so much. Playing Mistoffelees seemed to bring us closer together, even though we were so far apart.

Gradually, I began to socialize with some of the other actors. James and Karl didn't get along with each other, so I spent time with each of them separately, but I also got to know a few others and found some wonderful new friends amongst them. When I thought about the way I'd been just a short time ago—despairing of ever finding my way through life without pain—the way things had changed amazed me. It had all been down to that magazine I hadn't bothered to cancel.

# * * *

The months flew by, and when I traveled home to Nottingham on the anniversary of Andrew's death, I went with a much lighter heart than I expected. Given the circumstances, Maurice had agreed for my understudy to take my role for one night to give me the time I needed to visit Andrew's grave at the usual hour. It was a warm night and a myriad stars filled the sky.

"Hey, Andy." I placed the bunch of assorted brightly colored flowers in front of the grave stone. I'd selected one bloom for each week I'd missed a visit. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in so long, but you know why. Hopefully you've still been able to hear me talking to you. So, it's been a year and so much has happened. I never thought I'd be sitting here feeling the way I do now. I never thought the pain would get any less. It's still there—I still miss you so much, but each day it seems easier.

"I still get stage-fright, but it's not so bad. I'm actually enjoying being on the stage. Mistoffelees is good for me. I almost wish I'd done it when you were still here, but it was your time then, not mine. I won't be going on when this run finishes. I've done what I needed to do. I don't know if it was just good timing, or if fate had a hand in it, but Mistoffelees came up right when I needed him. You know why I wanted to be him. I thought it'd bring me closer to you and make you proud. But it's also made me more confident and helped me move forward. I've made new friends. I'm starting to have a life again.

"Just a few more weeks and I'll be back at the house. Your mum's been looking after the garden and checking things over. I'll take better care of it when I get back." I had also made the decision to move back into the main bedroom. I'd miss Andrew being there, but I didn't feel as if it would hurt anymore.

I stayed an hour as I always did. I talked about everything and although a few tears spilled over, I didn't weep as if my heart would break. When I walked away, I felt as if I'd been able to say good-bye properly, and that my future would start to be my own.

# Chapter Eight

The last weeks of the musical were over much too quickly. Most of the cast bemoaned having to give up their cat characters, and I had to admit I would miss Mistoffelees. I would miss the new friends I'd made, too. Many of them would go on to other shows, although some would stay in Nottingham, at least while they were rehearsing for the next show. Maurice had decided to do _Grease_ , and auditions were due to start the week after the final night of _Cats_.

The final performance was sold out and when it ended, the cast celebrated together at the small restaurant next to the theater, that Maurice had booked out for our use. Everyone stayed in costume, makeup and all. Afterward, the bus took us back to the studios. James's girlfriend, Abby, had come to the show and they slipped away to his room together. I went back to Karl's room to share a half-bottle of champagne he'd managed to acquire from the restaurant and from then, things took a surprising turn.

Karl put the champagne on top of the fridge and turned toward me. "I can't believe it's over! I can't believe I didn't throw up this week either."

I laughed. "Nice, Karl. I was hoping you'd tell me about whether you puked or not."

"Twat. Come 'ere!" He grabbed me in a bear hug and turned around, almost swinging me off my feet.

I clutched at him to stop myself falling onto the TV. "You idiot! There isn't room to swing a cat in here."

We dissolved into fits of laughter, still holding onto each other. When I tilted my head back to look up at the grinning tabby face above me, Karl suddenly stopped laughing. He paused there, his bright green eyes searching mine. Then he ducked his head and brought our lips together.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react. I didn't know if it was the spur of the moment, or if he liked me. There'd been no sign of anything other than friendship, although he still flirted with everyone, including me, so it was difficult to tell. While I hesitated, he deepened the kiss and tightened his arms around me.

It had been so long since I felt a man's lips on mine—almost fourteen months. I thought I'd never want to experience it again, but suddenly things were different. It felt good and I kissed back, running my hands over Karl's lycra-covered shoulders. He groaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth while at the same time, he slid a hand down to cup my ass. Heat rushed to my groin, and I tried to pull away to prevent him from feeling my growing erection. But when I felt his hardness rub against mine, I pressed closer instead.

I allowed himself to be propelled backward to the bed and lowered onto it. I sank onto the mattress, legs spread as Karl settled over me. He pulled his head back, panting for breath, and ran a hand down my body. I squirmed beneath him and moaned at the feel of his erection grinding against mine. I was desperate to feel more and when he lifted his hips away and cupped my cock through my catsuit, I bucked up into his palm. The heat of his hand through the lycra made my cock throb, and I couldn't suppress a deep groan of pleasure as he squeezed me.

"Fuck these costumes," Karl gasped. "Unzip me, will you?"

The suits had zippers running from the back of the neck to the bottom of the spine, and I fumbled with Karl's. I drew it down slowly and he moaned in frustration. "Christ, hurry up, I don't wanna come in the fucking thing."

Biting back a laugh, I jerked at the stubborn zipper until it reached the belt holding his cat tail and stopped. I pushed the thick furry tail out of the way and my hand slid across the smooth surface of his ass.

I froze and lay still, holding my breath. It had been so long and yet it was too soon. I'd never even kissed Karl before—wasn't sure whether we really liked each other like that—but I'd let myself get swept along into a situation where we could end up having sex. Panic doused my arousal and my cock softened. Karl felt it and removed his hand. He propped himself up a little more and met my eyes. I turned my face away with a sigh.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I can't do this."

He pulled himself up and sat back on his heels. His erection bulged obscenely in the front of his costume and he pressed his hand over it. His face flushed with embarrassment and hurt. "No, I'm sorry. I ought to have known you wouldn't be interested in me like that."

"It's not you." Feeling at a disadvantage lying on my back with my legs spread, I sat up and crossed my ankles in front of me.

"It's not you, it's me. Yeah, I've heard that one." Karl laughed awkwardly.

"I mean it. It really is me."

"Fuck." He groaned and hung his head further. "You're not ready, are you? It's too soon after... Look, just forget anything happened, okay? I'm sorry."

"Hey." I touched his arm. "It's not that. It's not about Andrew. Well, it kind of is in a way. He was the only man I've ever been with. I don't want to do this with you in a rush when we're both on a high from the show. I'm not sure if I'm totally ready to be with somebody else yet, but when I am, I don't want it to be a quick fumble that doesn't mean anything."

"Okay." Karl looked relieved. "I'm not completely unappealing then?"

"No." I smiled and climbed off the bed. I was confused and I needed to think about things. Kissing him had been good—hell, I'd been so hard for a few minutes, I'd thought I might do what he joked about, and come in my costume. But what I told him was the truth. I didn't want a quick fumble. When I slept with someone again, whoever that was, I wanted to be dating them.

"I'm going back to my room." I placed my hand on Karl's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow on the bus."

"Yeah. G'night." He didn't move as I left the room.

I barely slept that night. Mostly I thought about Karl, and I talked to Andrew in my head. I knew in my heart Andrew would be happy for me to move on with another man, just like Carol had said. I just wasn't sure I wanted to do that with Karl, whom I'd come to know as a friend. There was no denying the man was attractive and sexy, but I didn't know if there could be anything between us worth pursuing. I decided I'd be better off leaving it alone and continuing with our friendship if he still wanted that. I assumed I would know when things were right, whether it would be with him or someone else.

The next morning, everyone piled onto the bus with their belongings, ready to travel back to Nottingham. Karl was conspicuous by his absence and several people commented on it. Annette protested when the bus began to move, but someone else called out that Karl had already left on the train. Apparently, he couldn't wait another hour and would rather throw away his money unnecessarily.

A pang of guilt touched me when I heard this. I would have been willing to bet his going home on the train had something to do with what had happened last night. He probably felt uncomfortable about facing me and decided to slip away by himself.

I spent the journey sitting alone in silence. James had decided to stay in London for a couple of days with Abby, and most of the other cast members were paired off. I thought about what I would do when I got home, and decided I needed to pick up my writing career again. That thought occupied me on the way home, although Karl frequently crept into my thoughts. I wondered what he would do next. He'd mentioned auditioning for _Grease_. I thought about contacting him to check he was okay, but then realized we'd never exchanged phone numbers. The only way I could contact him would be through Maurice, and I didn't want to do that.

I spent the rest of the day rearranging things in the house. I moved my belongings back into the main bedroom, aired the bed, and made it up with fresh sheets. I went out to buy a few things for the fridge, but Carol had already stocked it with essentials, so I didn't need to get much. I spent a little time in the garden, studying the plants that grew there and recognizing some of the flowers I'd bought for Andrew from the florist. I vowed not to neglect it in the future, the way I had for the past year.

The following day, I threw himself back into my work. I'd put a holding page on my website while I was away, so I removed this and worked on some promotional posts on Facebook and Twitter, to let people know I was back in business. Then I wrote an article to post on the website, and responded to a few emails. There was one from my mother inviting me to dinner. We'd talked on the phone once a week after the last conversation, and it seemed she was trying to build bridges. I hadn't spoken to my dad yet, but if I was invited to dinner, apparently Dad wanted to improve things as well. I decided it was time to move on and try to forget the differences we'd had over the past few years. If my parents were willing to try, I would, too.

I kept in touch with James and saw him every couple of weeks. He had the part of Sonny in _Grease,_ and he told me that Karl was Kenickie, and Annette was Frenchie. It made a tiny part of me wish I'd auditioned. I missed the friends I'd made through _Cats_ , but I accepted the stage wasn't really for me. I went to see _Grease_ on opening night at the end of November, my gaze glued to Kenickie whenever the character was on stage, but I didn't hang around afterward to see the cast. I needed to get an early night. My work had quickly taken off again and I almost had more than I could handle. Despite a vague longing to reconnect with Karl, I ignored it and returned to my life alone.

# Chapter Nine

I spent Christmas Day with my parents. Things had gradually improved between us, but I wasn't so sure that would last if a new man came into my life. I kept remembering those few minutes in Karl's arms after the last performance of _Cats_. Part of me wished I'd asked Maurice for Karl's number, or hung around after the performance of _Grease_ to speak to him. I'd begun to really like him and after that brief interlude, I imagined us together and wondered if anything would have come of it. I was still tempted to call Maurice and sound him out, but I felt awkward about doing that and thought I'd left it too long. Karl had probably forgotten about me.

On New Year's Day, I went out for a long walk. An icy wind whistled through the streets, and I huddled inside a heavy coat. As I visited the graveyard, I realized it was the first time I'd been there in two months. I still missed Andrew horribly, but after the anniversary visit, I'd been able to let go. I remembered all the happy times we shared without it bringing me to despair.

I stayed only a few minutes, telling Andrew that with the start of the New Year, I intended to try to find someone to spend time with. I was tired of being lonely and I knew my man would understand. When I left, I stepped into a coffee shop to warm up. I ordered a latte and a slice of chocolate cake, and looked around for a place to sit. The tables were almost all filled with chattering people.

A familiar figure sat in the corner. His back was turned and a multi-colored beanie covered his head, but I recognized his bright red checkered jacket. He had his head down, resting in one hand, and a magazine lay open on the table in front of him. I had only been thinking about him that morning, wondering what he was doing. I took a deep breath and made my way to the table, a grin spreading over my face.

"What's up, Pussycat?" I placed my coffee and cake on the table, and sat on the empty chair. Karl looked up in surprise.

"Fin!"

"Hey. You look different." I frowned when I took in the neatly cut brown hair protruding from under his hat. Then I noticed his eyes. They were gray.

"Yeah, well. I thought it was time to be honest. This is the real me."

"Your eyes—"

"I wore colored contacts before." Karl grimaced.

I smiled. "How's Grease going?"

"Yeah, it's good. The stage-fright hasn't improved." He cleared his throat and looked down at the table. "I'm sorry about what happened the last time we saw each other. I know I messed up."

"You didn't do anything wrong, seriously. I just didn't want a quick romp that might not have meant anything. And I needed to think about what I wanted for myself. I wish you hadn't run away the next day. I'd have told you that."

"I didn't run away." He sighed heavily. "Well, maybe I did. I don't do rejection very well."

"I'm sorry."

"So..." He smiled suddenly, eyes twinkling, and the old Karl was back. "Did ya miss me?"

"Of course." A flutter in my stomach reminded me how much he had been on my mind. "I've hardly seen anyone since I got back. Only James."

"He still thinks I'm a dick." He stuck out his bottom lip. "So, what are you doing?"

"Working again. I'm enjoying it. I came to see the show, by the way. On opening night. You were great. Kenickie was always my favorite character."

"Thanks."

I sipped my coffee and studied him. He looked different without the shock of peroxide hair and bright green eyes. He looked nice. He looked like the kind of man I would enjoy spending time with—maybe as more than a friend. I doubted he would ask, even if he was interested. He didn't do rejection very well. I asked myself whether I had the courage to ask. My heart slammed against my ribs and my mouth went dry. I took a large gulp of coffee, and grimaced as it burned its way down my throat. The silence stretched out between us until Karl broke it.

"What are you thinking?"

I cleared my throat. "I was wondering..." I paused and gathered my still fragile confidence. I slipped my hands under the table and surreptitiously wiped the damp palms on my thighs. "I wondered if you'd like to go out sometime. With me." My cheeks warmed, but I forced myself to lift my gaze and meet Karl's.

"You're asking me out?" He looked stunned.

"Yeah. Is that a lousy idea? Are you with someone?"

"No! No, I've been single for months. Not even a one-nighter since before I met you. Um, sorry, you don't want to hear that. I'm terrible at this. That's probably why I never managed to hang onto anyone for more than a couple of months."

Much to my astonishment, Karl flushed vividly and didn't seem to know where to look. I remembered him saying he adopted his annoying persona to give himself confidence, and I wondered if that applied to the rest of his life, as well as the stage.

"Yes or no. That's all you need to say." I smiled and waited.

"Yes. Of course, yes." He laughed and I released a sigh of relief. I thought I'd been about to learn what rejection felt like. "I always fancied you, you know," he continued. "I'd never have said anything. That night after the last show—it was adrenalin and Dutch courage." He laughed louder.

I glanced around and noticed several people eyeing us with interest. I finished my coffee and cake as quickly as I could, and got up from the table.

Karl rose too, and followed me outside. "We should swap numbers." He pulled out his phone as we hovered outside the shop. I removed my phone from my pocket and we tapped in each other's numbers. "Have you got anything to do right now? I mean, it's New Year's Day so I don't suppose you're working. Maybe we could do something?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." I nodded and walked alongside him as we headed toward the city center. My heart thumped hard in my chest with a combination of excitement and nervousness. I hadn't felt like that in so long I couldn't even remember it. I glanced up at him as we walked, and smiled when our eyes met. He touched my arm, and tentatively worked his way down to my hand. I gladly laced our fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze.

We made our way to a popular bar, and Karl went to buy drinks. The bar was packed with people celebrating the New Year, and I waited in a small space I found to stand in. There were no available seats, but it didn't matter. He returned with two bottles of beer and passed one to me.

"Thanks." I clinked my bottle against his. "Happy New Year."

Karl bent until his face was inches away. His gray eyes met mine and he whispered the words back. "Happy New Year."

A puff of warm breath brushed my nose as he leaned in even closer and brought our lips together. It was a soft, barely-there peck on the lips, but to me it was filled with promise, and it flooded me with warmth as I thought about what was to come. The New Year had brought a new start for me and I couldn't wait to see where it went.

# Chapter Ten

A long silence followed the kiss, and I struggled to think of something to say. I didn't often find myself so tongue-tied, but nervousness rendered me speechless. Finally, I remembered to ask a question. If I could get Karl to talk, it would prompt me to say something in return.

"What do your family think of you doing musicals?"

"My mum and my little sister love it. They've been to see _Grease_ three times. They came to _Cats_ a few times when we were performing here, as well. They wanted to come to one of the London shows, but couldn't afford it. My mum works as a secretary, and my sister's in her last year of school."

"What about your dad?"

"The less said about him the better." Karl wrinkled his nose. "Mum and Dad are divorced. They were always fighting when I was a kid, and when I came out and Dad called me a raging poof, Mum completely lost it with him. He moved out a few months later. Mum's got a boyfriend now. He's an accountant. Boring as hell, but he treats her like she's royalty, and that's what matters, right?"

I grinned as he rambled on. He didn't need much persuasion to talk and once he got going, he became animated and entertaining. Eventually, he stopped mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, you must be sick of hearing my voice. I don't know when to stop sometimes. I'm nervous because... well, I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't. I'm enjoying listening to you, honestly." I reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm quite capable of telling you to shut up, you know."

"I wish you would. I talk too much. Why don't you tell me more about you? When we were in London, I was so busy rattling on about myself, I doubt you got a word in."

I laughed. "Yeah, but at least it gave me something else to think about besides my stage-fright. That got much better in the end."

"You weren't tempted to do another show?"

I shook my head. "I did what I wanted. When I saw the ad for Mistoffelees, I thought if I could do that, I'd make Andrew proud. I achieved that. Being on the stage isn't really me. I did it a long time ago when Andrew and I were first together, but he was always so much better, and it meant so much to him. It only meant anything to me when I was doing it for him."

A frown wrinkled Karl's brow, and he held my hand more tightly. "You must still miss him horribly."

"Yeah, I do. But I can think about him without getting upset. I can remember how happy we were, and all the fun things we did. I talked to him a little while ago, and told him I was ready to move on. He'd be happy for me. His mum told me the same thing."

Karl gulped. "That's so sad, and sweet at the same time. I can't imagine what you must have been through. I've never lost anybody like that. I've never cared about anybody that much either." He closed his eyes and pulled a face. "I'm sorry. I'll just shut up."

"It's okay. You can talk about it. I'm fine." I pulled my hand free and lifted it to touch his face.

He opened his eyes in surprise. "I guess I should be honored you chose me to go on your first date with. I can't imagine why you would pick me."

"You're funny and kind and attractive," I blurted. "And I think there's a lot more to you than you show people. I want to get to know you properly. I didn't get a great deal of chance to do that when we were in London, even when we started to be friends."

"Well, let's hope you like what you find out." He smiled again. "So, how come you're out alone on New Year's Day, anyway?"

"I'm not alone. I'm with you." I chuckled. "I didn't have anything to do. I was with my parents on Christmas Day, which was just hilarious. The silver spoons were well and truly out. They invited me today, but I excused myself. I saw Andrew's parents yesterday, and James and Abby last night. Today, I was just doing my own thing. What about you? You looked down in the dumps when I saw you."

"I'm fine. Well, I am now I've got my hair of the dog." Karl grimaced as he gestured to his beer. "I can't actually remember seeing in the New Year, but I'm sure I did. The hangover this morning was brutal."

"Serves you right, then. Did you go to a party?"

"Yeah, a few of the _Grease_ cast went to a party at Maurice's. Have you ever been to his house?"

I shook my head.

"He lives in the back of beyond. It's a converted farmhouse, stuck out in a field. Me and a couple of others got a lift out there, and got a taxi home. Cost a bloody fortune at two in the morning."

"How is Maurice?"

"He celebrated more than anyone. He's getting married. Apparently, he's been with his man for twenty years, waiting for it to be legal."

"That's brilliant."

"I know this is a bit soon, and by the end of today you'll probably change your mind and be glad to see the back of me. But if you can put up with me until February, you could be my plus one." Karl's eyes twinkled and his face flushed.

"I'd like that." Rather than be irritated, the more time I spent with Karl, the more I liked him, and I found his self-deprecating attitude endearing. "Even if I've had enough of you by the end of today, we could still go as friends."

When his face fell, I elbowed him. "I'm teasing you. I like being with you. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time."

It was true, I thought. It had been too long since I spent time with a man who wasn't only a friend, like James. It had been too long since I'd had a date, and thought about what might happen later, or tomorrow, or next week. I'd lived from one day to the next for almost two years, and only in the last few weeks had things changed.

I spent the rest of the day with Karl. We stayed in the bar for hours, talking. When people started ordering food, we decided to eat, too. When some people left, we found a quiet corner to sit around a small round table.

"What are you having?" I studied the battered menu. "I fancy the steak panini. I'm not that hungry. I don't want a full meal."

"I'll have the same. We could get fries and onion rings and share them." Karl sniggered suddenly. "Maybe not onion rings."

"Well, if we both eat them, it won't matter." I grinned. "It's like garlic. If both people have it, you don't notice it."

"Okay. I'll order." He went to the bar to place the food order, and returned with two more beers. "It'll be half an hour. They're run off their feet with the crowd in here."

We sipped our drinks and chatted while we waited for the food. The steak paninis were delicious, complimented by the fries and onion rings. I hung back on the onion rings until Karl had eaten three, struggling not to laugh when he paused with another one halfway to his mouth.

"You are having some of these, aren't you?"

"No, I changed my mind." I shrugged and stuffed a couple more fries into my mouth.

"But now you won't want to kiss me again!" His eyes widened in mock horror, and he slapped a hand to his chest. "You're doing it on purpose. You're using it as an excuse to not kiss me."

I snorted. "I'm just teasing you."

"You're doing that a lot. I suppose I can't blame you. You're getting your own back for my idiotic behavior when we first met."

"I am." Grinning, I grabbed an onion ring. "You're so easy to wind up."

"I know. I can dish it out, but I'm not so good at taking it." He moved his leg under the table and bumped his knee against mine. "Who'd have thought we'd end up spending the day together like this? I thought after that disaster in London, you'd have kept your distance."

"I'm sorry about that. I just wasn't ready. I am now." I met his gaze and held it. For once, he had nothing to say in response. He stared back, unblinking, a look of longing in his eyes. I smiled and broke the eye contact, turning my attention back to my plate. Nerves made my hand shake as I picked up another onion ring, but I couldn't wait to be alone with him later.

# Chapter Eleven

"Shall we go for a walk?" Karl suggested, when we finished the meal. "I ate too much. I don't want to sit hunched up much longer."

I finished my last mouthful of beer, and reached for my jacket. "Okay."

We left the bar and wandered aimlessly along the streets, close together with our arms occasionally brushing. Karl grasped my hand and I squeezed his in approval. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular. I thought of heading for my place for coffee, but maybe that's too soon."

I glanced up at him. "I quite fancy a coffee. We're actually pretty close to my place."

"Are you sure?" He pulled me to a halt and turned to face me. "It's the house you shared with Andrew, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's fine. If it's okay with you. I mean, maybe you'd rather not. We could just go to your place if you, um..." I broke off and waited.

"Your place is fine."

"Okay. Great." Heaving a sigh of relief, I led the way. We turned into my street and I pulled out my keys as we approached the small house. Pushing my nervousness aside, I invited Karl in and headed for the kitchen to make coffee. He hovered, hands in his pockets, while the kettle boiled. Once again, neither of us spoke until I poured the drinks.

Karl took his mug and sipped. "Thanks. This is a nice house."

"You've only seen the kitchen." Shrugging out of my jacket, I held out my hand to take Karl's from him. He put down his mug again to take off his hat and coat. "I'll hang these up and we'll sit in the living room." I led the way, my gaze immediately drawn to the photo of Andrew and me. Perhaps I should have put it away, along with the others I'd now moved into the bedroom. But I liked looking at it. Besides, I hadn't expected to bring anyone back here. What if it upset Karl? What if... something happened? It would be like Andrew was watching. Nerves returning with full force, I took a seat on the sofa, half turned away from the picture.

"That's a lovely photo." Karl bent to peer more closely at the framed print.

"Yeah. Um, I should probably have, um, put it away somewhere by now."

"Why? You loved him. You were together a long time. It's only right you should have his picture up." He took a seat, leaving a reasonable gap between us, and gave me a warm smile.

Immediately, I relaxed. "Sorry if I'm being weird. It's kind of like stage fright. I've never brought anyone else here."

"I know that. We don't have to do anything. I just came for coffee, right?"

"Right." I sipped my coffee and let my gaze wander over Karl again. He looked so ordinary, with his hair its natural color and neatly cut, his gray eyes warm and friendly. A simple blue sweater with jeans was a sharp contrast to some of the loud outfits he'd worn in London. "What made you change your appearance? You said it was time to be honest."

"Yeah. I, um, I looked in the mirror one day and didn't like myself anymore." Karl shrugged and smiled wryly. "I started bleaching my hair when I was eighteen. I didn't dare before then. I think I told you once I hid who I was and dated some girls. I even kissed them to make it believable." He laughed and gave a mock shudder. "They loved me. They thought I was a gentleman because I didn't try to grope them. Then after the exams when I turned up at school with bleached hair and makeup, and some outrageous outfit with pink and yellow in it, flouncing around like I was on the stage, everybody got it."

I laughed. "I'd love to have seen their faces."

"Yeah, the boys weren't that impressed. Nor were the teachers. I was flouting school rules by not wearing the uniform, and unnatural hair colors weren't allowed. But to answer your question, I was playing a role with all that. I did it for years, and after I talked to you in London, I realized I didn't want to be that person anymore. I wanted to be real."

"I like the real you." I edged closer until our knees bumped, and met Karl's eyes. He put down his coffee cup on the nearby table, and laid his hand on my knee. Our gaze held, Karl's filled with longing. I leaned in, closing the gap between us until our lips brushed. I lifted my hand to his neck, and my fingers brushed the silky strands of his new short cut. I slid my fingers around to the nape, encouraging him to kiss me again. Our lips clung in a warm caress, exploring gently without tongues. My eyes fluttered closed and I savored the moment, comparing it to the frantic, awkward fumbling in London when we'd both had a few drinks. We'd mashed our lips together, squirming and grasping, fighting to get Karl out of his lycra catsuit. Then I froze and it was over.

I broke away, my lips parting on a laugh. "I'm sorry. I just remembered the last time we did this."

"In the bar?" Karl's brow furrowed.

"No, in London. When we were in costume."

He grinned. "That bloody costume was a nightmare. Then again, at the time it was probably a good thing. If I'd been able to get out of it quicker, things would have been more awkward."

"Yeah, probably. Sorry," I repeated.

Karl's grin widened. "Do you still have your costume?"

"Yes, I didn't want to part with it. Why, do you want me to dress up in it?" Teasing, I waggled my eyebrows.

"Maybe one day." He flushed. "You did look good in it. I don't know how I stopped myself following you around with my tongue hanging out."

More laughter eased the tension, and we finished our coffees, reminiscing about the shows. When I took the coffee mugs back to the kitchen, Karl followed. "Maybe I should go now. It's been an awesome day."

"Please don't." I turned abruptly from the sink to find Karl standing close to me. I looked up and met his eyes. I longed for more. I'd been alone for so long, and finally I felt able to reach out and take what was in front of me. I wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and not let go. I wanted to feel that he wanted me. "I'm not very good at this, but I don't want you to go yet."

"I'm not very good at it either. And I'm concerned I might overstep the mark again."

"You won't. Not this time." I reached for him and slid my arms around his waist, drawing him closer. "Where were we, before I interrupted it by laughing?"

He lowered his head, bringing our lips so close that when he spoke again, they brushed repeatedly. "I think we were about here." He shuffled his feet forward, pressing me back against the sink with his body. I closed my eyes as his mouth covered mine, this time parting my lips to encourage him to kiss me properly. His tongue slid in, eager, but gentle at the same time. I hummed my approval and kissed him back, breathing fast through my nose as our lips pressed harder together, tongues teasing and tasting.

My heart raced, and my cock filled, rapidly responding to the growing urgency of the kiss. Karl's growing hardness nudged my stomach, encouraging my arousal, and I held on tighter, squeezing and massaging his back and shoulders. He broke the kiss to breathe, then ducked his head to nibble his way along my jaw to my neck, teeth carefully grazing a sensitive spot beneath my ear. I trembled and a soft moan burst from my lips.

"Is this okay?" Karl murmured against my skin.

"Yes... please..." Shivering from the gentle nibbling at my neck, I rose on the balls of my feet, lessening the height difference so I could feel Karl's erection against mine. I slid my hands down his back to his ass. The last time I'd touched him like that, he'd been slippery-smooth in lycra. This time my palms caressed soft, worn denim, molded tight to his buttocks. I squeezed and pulled him in harder against me. He groaned in my ear, hips gyrating.

"Shit, Fin. I want to touch you. Can I?"

"Uh huh." Breathless, I took my hands off him as he pulled back a few inches, just enough to get his hands between us. He fumbled with my zipper, impatient to get into my jeans. I whimpered in frustration when his knuckles brushed my dick, still trapped in too-tight underwear. I pushed his hands away and yanked open my fly, all nervousness long gone. I yearned to be touched, and the few seconds it took to free me from my clothes were too long. Finally, my cock sprang free, pushing into Karl's hand. He gripped lightly, rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip, and I moaned again, struggling to focus as I unfastened his jeans.

"Fuck! Yes!" Karl braced one hand on the counter beside me, bucking his hips as I wrapped my hand around his erection. We stroked together, clumsily jerking each other in unison, desperate for release. Head down, I watched my hand sliding up and down his slick shaft, rolling the foreskin back to reveal the swollen purple head. I licked my lips, wondering what he would taste like, but hesitant to drop to my knees and try. Instead, I moved my hand faster, drawing another louder groan of pleasure from him. He quickened the pace of his stroking too, and I clutched at him with my free hand, legs trembling as my orgasm shook me. How long had it been? A minute? Less? My face warmed.

"Shit. Sorry." Keeping my head down, I concentrated on bringing him off, relieved when it took only a few more strokes.

He chuckled breathlessly and reached for a roll of paper towels to clean up. "I wasn't far behind. I think we both needed that."

"It's been too long." I lifted my head and met his eyes again. His pupils were blown, cheeks flushed. I looked away again and grabbed some of the paper towels. We cleaned up quickly and tucked ourselves away. Gradually, our breathing calmed, and when Karl leaned close again to press a gentle kiss to my cheek, I slid my arms around his waist. "Thank you."

# Chapter Twelve

In the aftermath of orgasm, guilt filled me and I pulled out of Karl's arms. It was the first time I'd had any kind of sex other than with Andrew, and even after two years, I still felt a sense of betrayal. I avoided Karl's eyes, awkward and embarrassed. I didn't want to spoil things, and I covered it up by offering him another drink, but he shook his head.

"I should get going. I don't want to outstay my welcome."

"You haven't!" I blurted.

"You regret it, though."

"No." I shook my head. Only two minutes ago, I'd been thanking him, but I couldn't help my feelings. "I don't, I just... it's the first time with anybody else."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm gonna go. I really don't want to mess this up, Fin. Most people think I'm an insensitive, brainless dick, but I know when to take a step back. You've got my number."

"Sorry." I shook myself, impatient with what I supposed was only a natural reaction to what had happened. Despite Karl's quick smile before he went to get his jacket, I didn't miss the sad look in his eyes. I followed him and waited while he put on his outdoor clothes. "I don't want to mess this up either. I'll call you. Soon, I promise."

"Okay. Anytime you want." Karl pressed a quick kiss on my cheek, and slipped out of the house before I could respond. I leaned against the door with a sigh. He was so understanding; so generous. How had he not had a relationship longer than a few months?

I pushed myself away from the door and went to my room, where immediately I was surrounded by the pictures of Andrew I'd moved from the living room. My face flamed and I turned away from them. What if he didn't like Karl? What if Carol was wrong, and he was watching me, hating that I was moving on and leaving him behind?

Frustrated, I gathered the pictures from their resting places and carefully laid them in the chest where I kept my spare bedding and towels. For the first time in nine years, I couldn't look at Andrew. Sorrow and guilt warred with longing for the new man in my life, and I sat on the edge of the bed, fists clenched on my lap, my mind a muddle. Part of me wanted to tell Karl it had been a mistake, while the other part knew we could have something good together, if only I would let myself.

That night I tossed and turned, barely sleeping. I couldn't turn off my thoughts and by the time I dragged myself into the shower, my head ached. I made some strong coffee and stared at my phone, wondering if I should send Karl a message. _I'm sorry, I can't do this_.

The phone rang and I jumped, almost spilling my coffee. It was barely eight-thirty, but Carol was calling me. I hesitated before answering, but then picked up.

"Hi, Carol."

"Are you all right?"

"Are you psychic?" I laughed sadly.

"No, sweetie, but you sounded fed up when you answered."

"I'm okay. I didn't sleep very well."

"Would you like me to come over today?" she offered. "The boys have all gone to a football match." By "the boys," she meant Andrew's dad and brothers.

"No, I'm fine, really. I don't think I'd be very good company." I paused and cleared my throat. "I met somebody."

"And?"

"I really like him. But... I don't know. It doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean? He's not right for you in some way?"

"It's not that." I sighed. "He was in Cats. That's how we met. We haven't seen each other for a long time, but yesterday we spent most of the day together. He's great. Really understanding and caring. And attractive. But—"

"You feel guilty." I could hear the smile in Carol's voice.

"How did you know?"

"I should think it's natural. Andrew was your only love, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"You know he'd want you to be happy again."

"I know." I paused, trying to get my thoughts in order. "I know he would. And I'm ready to try being with someone else, but I still feel guilty. Like I'm cheating on him, or his memory."

"I understand. You and Andrew loved each other so much. But he's your past, and you'll always have wonderful memories. Maybe this new man is your future. Tell me about him?"

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" I couldn't help wondering if in some way she would resent me being with someone new.

"If I didn't I wouldn't ask."

"Okay. His name is Karl. He was a bit of an idiot when I first met him. He was desperate for attention all the time, and acted loud and over the top. He wound everybody up, but it was all an act. He gets terrible stage fright, just like me, and he seems a bit shy sometimes. All that behavior was to cover it up. It made people not like him. Andrew knew him from before, and Karl said Andrew saw right through him. Maybe Andrew thinks I'm stupid to want to be with him."

"He wouldn't think that. The real Karl sounds like a nice man."

"He is. Last night... well, we kissed, and he left at exactly the moment I started to feel like I shouldn't have done it. He left it for me to get in touch with him, if I still wanted to."

"Are you going to?"

"Yes." Finally, I smiled again. "I was awake most of the night worrying about it, but I realized I don't want to miss out on this. I don't want to lose him."

"Then don't. Call him. And remember you can call me any time you want to talk about things," Carol said gently.

"I know. Thanks. So, why did you call this early?"

"No particular reason. Just for a chat." Carol stayed on the phone a while longer, and when we said good-bye, my doubts and fears were gone. I had no reason to feel guilty. Andrew would only be happy that I could find happiness again, and it was a blessing his mother was still in my life, and was able to remind me of that.

I still wasn't ready to talk to Karl yet, but I sent him a text. Perhaps he'd been awake last night, too, worrying that I might have changed my mind. I tapped out a few words, deleting and retyping several times before I was satisfied with the message: _Hey, yesterday was great. Wondering if you want to grab some lunch today, unless you're busy rehearing? Fin._

I considered ending the message with a kiss, but decided against it. I didn't want to sound too gushy in the first message I ever sent him. The reply came within seconds as if he'd been waiting to hear from me.

_Great! No rehearsals for three more days. Fancy meeting at Starbucks first_?

Beaming, I replied to tell him I'd meet him at eleven thirty. His response of _Can't wait!_ was followed by an emoji blowing a kiss, and I smiled wider. All I felt was excitement as I showered, shaved, and tried on several shirts before I settled on a red polo shirt with a gray sweater over it. Carol's pep-talk had helped me see that I was allowed to be excited about a date, and potentially a relationship. I hadn't enjoyed these feelings since my teens, and I'd spent too long thinking my love life was over. It was time to start again.

I arrived ten minutes early at Starbucks, and as I opened the door, Karl appeared, laughing. "You're early!"

"So are you." I let the door close again, and stepped closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. He slid his arms around me and I turned my head to meet his lips. The peck on the cheek turned into a full blown hot kiss that had my heart racing and my already tight pants tightening more. When I stepped back, Karl's face was flushed and his eyes sparkling.

"You are pleased to see me. I thought maybe... I don't know. I wondered if you'd regret it."

I shook my head. "I don't regret anything." It was true, I didn't. And there was no need to tell him I'd felt guilty for a while.

# Chapter Thirteen

After we'd spent an hour in Starbucks, making our way through two lattes each and a couple of packets of biscotti, the coffee date morphed into another whole day together. We went for a walk, holding hands as we made our way through the city, eventually reaching Karl's home. He had a small apartment, converted from the top floor of a three-story house. One of the other members of Forest Theater Company lived on the first floor, and a young couple with a baby in the middle.

Karl's single bedroom home was crammed with clutter, and while he apologized for the mess, I looked around in fascination at the vast collection of memorabilia from the shows he'd been a part of, and those he'd attended as a member of the audience before he became an actor himself. He told me how he'd started with the drama group at his school, and moved onto an amateur dramatics company, before finally finding Maurice's group when he was twenty. He'd been in versions of _Phantom of the Opera_ , _Moulin Rouge_ , _Aladdin_ , and several others before _Cats_ , and still had all his costumes hanging in one side of his closet.

I felt much more relaxed at his place than my own. We didn't stop talking all afternoon, finding we had a lot in common with our tastes in music, movies, sports—neither of us liked taking part in sports, but we both enjoyed watching tennis, athletics, and skiing on the TV.

That evening, we ordered Chinese food and discovered we both hated sweet and sour, but loved beef in black bean sauce, and chicken with cashew nuts. We fought over the last of the prawn crackers, and laughed over too many beers. By the time we'd watched a DVD of _Moulin Rouge_ starring Nicole Kidman, it was late and I realized I would have to get a taxi home. It wasn't a long walk, but the amount of beer I'd drunk made me wonder if I'd make it back without getting lost.

"Why don't you stay?" Karl raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and babbled. "Maybe it's too soon. I mean, if you did, we don't have to do anything. It's up to you. It's just a suggestion. Or I can call a cab for you. I've got a card somewhere. Hold on." He opened his wallet and rifled through a bunch of business cards.

"I'll stay," I said decisively, laughing at his bluster. "But I'll have to leave before nine tomorrow. I really need to get some work done."

"I can set my alarm. And I make a mean breakfast." Karl grinned. "There's bacon, sausage, and eggs in the fridge, and hash browns in the freezer. I'm crap at cooking anything else, but breakfast I can do."

"Sounds great." I stifled a yawn and grimaced. "Sorry. Beer's catching up with me."

"There's a spare toothbrush in the cupboard in the bathroom," Karl offered. "You go first. I'll clear up." He began gathering up the food cartons and empty beer bottles, while I made use of the bathroom. He was in the small kitchen when I emerged, and I went into the bedroom alone.

Karl's king size bed was made up with red satin sheets, which was exactly the kind of bedding I pictured him sleeping in. I ran my hand over the cover. I'd never slept in satin and could only imagine the feel of the smooth fabric against my skin. I stripped down to my underwear and slid into the bed. Karl went into the bathroom and I waited, pulse quickening as I heard the toilet flush, then his vigorous brushing of his teeth. I'd drunk enough to be relaxed, but not so much I couldn't get aroused. My dick filled as I lay there, and tiredness vanished. I still wasn't sure how far I wanted to go, but the thought of Karl jerking me off made my groin ache.

He appeared in the doorway, still wearing a T-shirt with his briefs. The shirt wasn't quite long enough to hide the fact that he was hard. I grinned and patted the bed beside me. "What are you waiting for?"

"Not used to having anyone in my bed." He turned off the light and hurried to join me. "Can't even remember the last time, and they didn't sleep over. Sorry."

I laughed and turned to face him as he slid under the sheet beside me. "Suddenly I'm not very tired."

"Me neither." He shuffled closer and touched my face. "I never thought this would happen, you know? I kept thinking about you, after Cats ended."

"Me too. I almost called Maurice to ask for your phone number, but I kept talking myself out of it," I confessed. "I didn't want to tell him why, and then time passed and I thought you'd probably found somebody else."

"I almost did the same thing." Karl chuckled in the darkness. "Asked Maurice for your number, I mean. But after what happened in London, I doubted you'd want to hear from me."

"Shut up," I whispered. "Too much talking." Karl fell silent, and I leaned closer to press my lips to his. "Better."

He hummed his approval and slid his arm around me, pulling me against his body until our erections pressed together, still trapped in our underwear. I gyrated my hips, awkwardly as I lay on my side. A little too much beer, and excitement made me bold. I slid my hand down to Karl's ass and caressed him through his briefs. He groaned and pressed his face into my neck. "Take these off." I plucked at the waistband of the garment.

Karl pulled away from me and quickly wriggled out of his underwear and T-shirt. I shed my boxers too, and when we moved close again, we moaned as our dicks rubbed together. I slid my hand between us and grasped both, stroking his long shaft against mine with precome from us both easing the way.

"Shit, wait." Karl grabbed my hand and pulled it away. "Too close." He grimaced.

"Already?" I laughed softly. "I barely touched you."

"Yeah, but I've been thinking about it all day." He propped himself up on one elbow and gave me a long, heated kiss. I parted my lips and our tongues met, exploring and teasing. When Karl drew away, I tried to pull him back, but he slipped out of reach and pushed the bed covers off. He lowered his head to trace a line of kisses down the middle of my chest, and I gasped when his chin bumped the wet tip of my cock. It twitched in anticipation, straining to reach his mouth as he made his way lower. He circled my navel with his tongue, making me shiver as I slid my hands into his hair.

"Please," I murmured.

"Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth."

He inched lower and my erection slid along his cheek. Whimpering, I lifted my hips to get some friction. Any thoughts other than the here and now—the anticipation and the arousal—had left my head and I simply enjoyed. When Karl finally wrapped his long fingers around my dick and guided it into his mouth, I rolled my head back on the pillow and cried out, too loudly, but I didn't care. My heart thundered in my chest, my hands trembled as I clutched handfuls of Karl's hair, and my thighs quivered as I spread them wider and pulled my knees up either side of him.

He sucked slowly, teasingly, making his way up and down my length with lips and tongue and the gentle scrape of teeth, one hand following, and the other stroking and squeezing my balls. Fearing I might pull out chunks of his hair, I let go of him and gripped the head of the bed behind me instead. Karl ducked his head lower, taking me all the way in until my tip slid into his throat, and his nose was buried in my newly trimmed pubic hair. He took his hands off and slid them under my ass, squeezing and encouraging me to buck my hips.

"God, Karl. Fuck!" I clenched my fists harder on the wood frame behind me. My balls drew up and my orgasm built rapidly, seconds from erupting. "Gonna come," I panted, just in case he wanted to pull off. He didn't, and I writhed under him as I shot into his throat. He carried on sucking, more gently, as he gradually drew off and licked me clean. Shuddering, I released my death-grip on the head of the bed and lowered my hands to his face as he looked up at me. "Shit," I said eloquently.

Karl grinned, and I noticed his flushed face and blown pupils. He crawled up the bed to my side and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside cabinet. "Here." Passing them to me, he grabbed more to wipe himself. Clearly, he didn't need my help to get off, and I felt a touch of guilt that I hadn't given him the enjoyment he'd given me.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"For what? That was amazing."

"I didn't do anything."

"Believe me, sucking your dick gave me as much pleasure as it did you."

"I doubt that." I chuckled and tossed aside the tissues. "Next time, it's my turn."

# Chapter Fourteen

"Next time" didn't happen for almost a week. Karl's mother got sick and he spent a couple of days running around helping her out with shopping and jobs around the house. Then he was back at rehearsals before the start of the new season of shows, and I was snowed under with writing. We called and texted at every opportunity, but we couldn't seem to find the time to get together. The stupid insecure part of me wondered if Karl needed an excuse to avoid a repeat of that night, and I berated myself over and over for thinking that. All I had to do was read his texts, long and detailed, about how he couldn't wait to see me, and how he'd loved what we did.

Finally, we saw each other during the daytime when Karl wasn't needed by the theater company. Working from home meant I was flexible and could schedule things to fit around when he could be free. We went out for lunch followed by the movies. Unable to decide on what to watch, because we each fancied something different from what was showing, we saw two movies back to back—a comedy for Karl, and a spy thriller for me. We held hands and snuggled in the back row, sharing popcorn and a huge carton of diet Coke with two straws. When the second movie ended, we headed back to Karl's place, and took up where we left off the last time.

I took the lead, no longer nervous about sex with him. Occasionally, I had niggling feelings of guilt when I was alone, but when we were together, I was able to leave the past behind and accept that Andrew would have been happy for me.

I sucked Karl's dick, and at his encouragement, fucked him with my finger, for the first time discussing tentatively what we might do when we got to anal sex. "You bottom?" I queried, and sucked him into my mouth while I waited for an answer.

"Ungh!" He shuddered and clenched his fists. "You ask me now?"

"Mm."

"I, uh, I, uh, like it both ways," Karl stuttered, as I nibbled carefully along his shaft. "Fuck!"

I chuckled, mouth full, then released him just long enough to comment. "Good. Me too."

Admittedly, Andrew had topped more than I had. He'd been the more dominant partner and I'd been happy with that, but he let me fuck him when I wanted to. I pushed the thought aside. I was with Karl. It was what he wanted that mattered.

We switched position, Karl insistent that he get me off at the same time. He crouched above me, balls swinging in my face while he took me deep into his mouth. I stroked him, peering up at his smooth pink hole, wet from the lube I'd applied and the area around it completely hairless. Guiding his tip into my mouth again, I thrust into him with two fingers. Shuddering, he moaned around my erection and reached for the lube so he could touch me in the same way.

Later, we lay in each other's arms, talking softly to each other, exchanging lazy little kisses. It was perfect—everything I'd longed for when I let myself think about being with someone else. Surprising, too, given the way things had been between us in the beginning. I laughed softly, as I remembered Karl's awful loud, teasing behavior.

"You're starting to give me a complex. You always laugh when we're in bed." Karl stuck out his bottom lip in a comic pout.

"I do it on purpose. You're way too cocky."

"You don't like my cock?" He pouted more.

I propped myself up on one elbow and met his eyes. "You're an idiot."

"Wow. And the compliments keep rolling in." His eyes danced with laughter. "Way to make a man feel wanted."

"You know I want you." I nudged his hip with my swelling dick. "I was laughing because I remembered what you were like when I first got to know you, and how different things are now."

"Yeah, you're right. I was an idiot." Rolling his eyes, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. "Thankfully I came to my senses. Fin..." His expression turned serious, and he stared into my eyes. "I'm falling for you. Fallen, maybe. I didn't intend to say anything yet, but you know what I'm like, unable to keep my mouth shut. You're everything I always hoped I'd find one day, and thought I never would. I—"

"Shut up." I pressed my fingers to his lips to stop his babble. My heart raced at his words and I realized it wasn't only him who felt like that. I was falling, too. Fallen, maybe. "I feel the same. I never thought I would again. But somehow..." I let the words trail off and kissed him instead. I wasn't quite ready to say those words. It seemed fast—maybe too fast—but it was right.

# * * *

We stayed in bed, talking and cuddling, until rumbling stomachs drove us to the kitchen to find snacks. Karl found a bag of nachos, chili dip, assorted nuts, and a packet of Bombay mix. I'd never tried the latter and thought it looked like the contents of a vacuum cleaner bag, but the little beans and seeds and stick things tasted delicious. We had just put the remains of the snacks aside and leaned in for a kiss, when Karl's phone beeped in his pocket. He glanced at the time as he pulled it out.

"Oh, shit. It's Maurice. We have a late rehearsal today."

"I know, but I thought it didn't start until nine."

"It's ten to nine. Sorry. Shit." Karl catapulted off the couch and ran around, gathering up wallet and keys, then shoved his feet into a pair of shoes. "I'm really sorry. You can come with me. Or stay here? Or maybe you just want to go home." He looked mortified, as if he'd committed some terrible crime.

"It's okay. It's fine." Smiling, I went to him. "Stop worrying. I could wait here. Watch some TV until you get back? It's only going to be two or three hours, right?"

"Yeah, at the most."

"Then I'll see you later."

"Great!" Karl charged back across the room to give me one last kiss, then flew out the door, leaving me chuckling to myself.

I picked up the remote control and flicked channels on the TV, searching for something interesting to watch. Karl had Sky TV with many more channels than I had, and I settled on a tennis tournament for a while, then switched to a gay German movie with subtitles. By the time it ended, I was yawning my head off, and Karl was back.

"You're back already?" I straightened up and stifled another yawn.

"It's one in the morning. I was worried you'd think I was too long."

"I barely noticed you were gone." I shot him a grin, and switched off the TV.

"Yeah, right. I bet you were watching the clock the whole time, counting off the minutes and missing me like crazy." He grasped my hand and tugged me to my feet. "Coming to bed? I'm exhausted."

Ten minutes later, we snuggled up in Karl's satin sheets, barely having the energy for a few lazy goodnight kisses, before we drifted away.

# Chapter Fifteen

When I opened my eyes, daylight filtered between the curtains and the smell of coffee reached my nostrils. Karl sat on the bed, holding out a steaming mug. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"What time is it?" I sat up and took the mug from him.

"Nine. Do you have to rush off for your work?" He gazed hopefully at me, and I shook my head.

"It can wait till later."

He scooted over to sit beside me and we drank our coffees in silence. I excused myself to use the bathroom and clean my teeth. When I returned to the bed, Karl was lying on his back under the covers, hands behind his head. An obvious bulge under the satin sheet indicated his arousal, and my pulse quickened. I hurried to join him, both excited and nervous that we might fuck for the first time. After we'd fingered each other, I hadn't stopped thinking about it; wanting it.

Karl turned to face me and took my mouth in a heated kiss, sliding his hands down my body. I liked that his hesitancy had disappeared, just as mine had. I stroked my hand down his back to his ass and pulled him closer. His dick rubbed against mine and I groaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss and hummed his approval, before ducking his head to nibble along my neck.

"Want you," I gasped.

"Which way?" He nipped at my ear and I shivered.

"Fuck me."

"Oh, yes." Warm breath rushed out onto my neck, and he rolled us over, his weight pressing me into the mattress. "Like this?"

"Yeah." I slid my legs apart under him, tugging him tighter against me. "Have you got condoms?"

"Yeah." He groped for the bedside table and fumbled in the drawer as he kissed his way around my neck and shoulders. When he dropped a foil square and a tube of lube on the mattress, I picked up the condom and ripped open the packet. "Eager, much?" Karl teased.

"I've been thinking about it a lot."

"So have I." He lifted himself up and uncapped the lube. I willed myself to relax as he coated his fingers. As keen as I was to have him inside me, it had been a very long time.

He prepared me slowly with one finger, then two, while I squirmed impatiently under him, and stroked his cock until he told me to stop or he'd blow his load before he even got the condom on. Reluctantly, I took my hand off and rested my hands on his hips instead. He took his time, considerate and careful not to hurt me. But eventually, I couldn't wait any longer. I squeezed his sides. "I'm ready."

"Okay." He withdrew his fingers and picked up the condom. "If you want to stop—"

"I won't. Let me do that." I took the condom from him and rolled it onto his dick with a shaky hand. His erection twitched at my touch, and he groaned.

"God, I want you so much."

"Me too." I gripped my legs behind the knees and pulled them up in readiness. Karl shuffled into position and guided himself, carefully inching into me. I breathed out and pushed up against him, wincing as he breached me. The discomfort was only slight as I stretched to accommodate him.

"Okay?" He held still and met my eyes, trembling in his effort not to move.

"I'm fine. Fuck me, Karl. I won't break."

He bucked his hips, a shallow thrust that I barely felt. Gradually, he fell into a steady rhythm that I matched, my erection rubbing against his stomach as we moved together. The sound of our gasps and groans, and the creak of the bed filled the room. I forced my eyes open to look up into the face of the man I realized I loved, and found him gazing down at me with the expression of an adoring puppy.

It didn't last long. We held on as long as we could, but we were both desperate, aching and trembling. Karl's dick pulsed inside the condom, and I shot my load onto my stomach and chest without even getting my hand on it. Boneless, I let my legs fall back onto the mattress, and Karl slipped from me with a sigh. He knotted the condom and tossed it into the waste bin beside the bed, then stretched out beside me and snuggled close.

We stayed that way for a while, cuddling in companionable silence, until I remembered I still had congealing come on my chest. We shared the shower, washing each other and fooling around until the water ran cold. Karl made breakfast, and I hung around as long as I could, not wanting to leave his company until the last possible minute. But I had two articles to write, and eventually, I had to go home.

It surprised me how difficult it was to say good-bye. I didn't want to leave him, even for a few hours, or a day or two, or however long it was before we could find some free time again. We stood kissing by the open door, lost in each other, until the cold filtering into the hallway made Karl shiver, and I reluctantly pulled away.

"You'll catch your death."

"Yeah." He took a step back, eyes sparkling as he watched me sidle out of the door onto the narrow path that led to the road. I beamed back at him, then forced myself to look where I was going rather than risk tripping on the uneven stones and falling on my ass. I gave him one last wave, then thrust my hands into my pockets and walked away, my smile still splitting my face in two.

I'd never thought I could be this happy again. Two years ago—even one year ago—I'd wondered if I'd ever be able to feel anything besides loss, and pain, and despair. It still hurt. It would always hurt, and I'd always miss Andrew like part of me had died with him, but now I had something new. Something wonderful that made me smile again; made me love again. It had barely been any time at all since we started seeing each other. We'd had, what, one proper date? But New Year's Day had turned into a whole day together. That had been the start. Then our first date, a whole day and night, more or less. We spent a lot of time together, just not at different times.

"I can't be in love with him yet. It's too soon," I muttered, as I unlocked my door and let myself into the house. "How do you tell, anyway?"

Attempting to push my thoughts aside, I made coffee and settled down with my laptop to write the articles I had scheduled. What should have taken me a couple of hours, took the rest of the day. I couldn't concentrate, my mind filled with Karl, and how I felt, and how it had been having sex—no, making love—with him. Every time I moved, the slight soreness in my ass reminded me of how amazing it had been. How I didn't want to let him go afterward. And I couldn't help comparing it to what I had with Andrew. But then I berated myself over and over for doing that.

Eventually, I went into the bedroom where the one photo of Andrew remained, and I talked to him. I'd always been able to talk to him about anything, however hard it should have been. This time was no different. I knew what he'd say if he could answer me, and it was exactly what Carol had told me.

"I think I might love him," I whispered. "We've only actually been together a little over a week, but I got to know him before. It almost seems like he was waiting for me to be ready. I'm happy again. I never thought I would be. I hope you can be happy for me, too. I know you wouldn't have wanted me to mope around forever." I gazed at the photo for a long time, and the tension slowly left me. "I'm always going to love you, and I'll never forget what we had."

Eventually, I placed the photograph in the drawer and smoothed the bed covers, where they'd creased as I sat on the bed. I left the room with a smile on my face.

# Chapter Sixteen

"Are you sure this looks all right?" Karl frowned and fretted, as he untied and knotted his tie for the third time.

"It's fine." Laughing, I pushed his hands away and straightened the knot. "No one's going to be looking at you, anyway. The grooms will be the center of attention."

Karl released a long-suffering sigh. "I wonder what Maurice is wearing?"

"Something sparkly, probably. Come on, we'll be late."

As neither of us had a car, I'd hired one for the weekend. Maurice and his fiancé, Jeff, were getting married at a hotel in town, but the reception and evening "do" were at the house they shared. Karl and I didn't want to rely on others for transport, or pay a fortune for a taxi, and Maurice's house really was in the middle of nowhere. Of course, one of us would have to stick with a single glass of champagne, but I didn't mind not drinking.

I drove us to the hotel and an usher directed us to where we were to sit for the ceremony. The hall in the hotel was decked out with purple and white flowers and ribbons, and a group of musicians in purple suits stood in one corner, quietly playing classical music. We took our seats, and found James and Abby sitting on the same row. I'd kept in touch with James, but hadn't seen him for a few weeks, and I hadn't had the opportunity to tell him Karl and I were together.

"Hey, Fin," he said in a low voice. "How are you?" He shot a quick glance at Karl and raised his eyebrows.

"Great, thanks." I grinned, and slid my hand into Karl's. "Surprise!"

"No way!" James's eyes widened.

"I know, I'm the last person you'd imagine Fin dating." Karl squeezed my hand firmly.

"How long?" James asked.

"Since New Year's Day."

"Wow. I know you got to be friends in London, but..."

"We didn't see each other for months," I told him. "Then we ran into each other in a coffee shop and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Wow," James repeated. "Well, I'm happy for you both."

We chatted a little longer, then turned to face the front as everyone fell silent. The musicians began to play, not the wedding march, but an Elton John song that I assumed was Maurice and Jeff's special song. A moment later, Maurice and Jeff walked into the room arm in arm, and made their way to the front where the registrar waited. The couple wore identical white suits, Maurice with a purple necktie and handkerchief, and Jeff with green. I'd never seen Jeff before, and was surprised to discover he was considerably younger than Maurice, probably by around twenty years.

Karl glanced at me and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "I didn't tell you Jeff was a toy boy. They've been together since he was about twenty."

"Ssh." I elbowed him, and he fell silent as the registrar began to speak.

"We are gathered here—"

I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be standing up there in front of a crowd of family and friends, saying my vows on my own special day. A long time ago, Andrew and I had talked about it being a possibility in the future, but we hadn't gone as far as getting engaged. We'd been happy living together, knowing we'd always have each other.

Now I had Karl. Would I want that some day? Maybe. Probably. I'd recently met his mum and sister, and Karl reported later that they both loved me. Needless to say, he hadn't met my parents. I'd told my mother about him on the phone, and she'd changed the subject as soon as she could. She just didn't want to know anything about my love life, even though it was clear to everyone how happy I was.

I glanced at Karl from the corner of my eye, just as he glanced at me, an adoring expression on his face. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing—imagining us standing up there with a registrar one day in the future. I gave his hand another squeeze, and paid attention to the ceremony.

When it was over, and Maurice and Jeff were pronounced husbands, everyone brought out phones and cameras to snap the happy couple. An official photographer lurked, and when the friends and family had finished with their pictures, some staged poses were arranged, some inside and some outside the building. Then everyone returned to their cars to make the journey to Maurice's house, where he'd announced a team of catering and waiting staff were ready to spoil us with a delicious meal.

Karl and I sat on a table with James and Abby, and Annette and her boyfriend, Rick. I hadn't seen Annette since the end of Cats and she seemed different—nicer. It was clear Rick doted on her, and perhaps love had changed her. We all chatted together throughout the evening, and after Maurice and Jeff had their first dance to that Elton John song again, other couples joined in.

"Shall we?" Karl gazed at me hopefully, and I nodded. We'd only danced together one time, when we went clubbing a couple of weeks after we started dating. It had been a rare night off from the theater for Karl, and we'd gone to a local gay club. Karl was a regular before we got together, but although I enjoyed dancing with him, it wasn't something I'd want to repeat too often. I didn't like the volume of noise, and the constant attempts to grab at us from other men. It wasn't something I'd ever done with Andrew.

_Stop comparing_. I shook myself and slid my arms around Karl's neck. I much preferred dancing to whatever romantic tune the musicians, who'd followed us from the hotel, were playing.

"I love you," Karl murmured, just loud enough for me to hear above the music and talking.

"I love you, too." I tilted my head back to meet his lips, as he bent to kiss me. It wasn't the first time we'd exchanged the three little words. We'd hung on for about another ten days after that day I realized how I felt. Then I hadn't been able to stop myself blurting it out when we were snuggling in each other's arms, right after I fucked him for the first time. He confessed he'd been in love with me since we spent the day together on New Year, and although he'd hinted at falling for me, he'd been too nervous to say it before me, in case he scared me away.

"Do you think this might be us one day?" He glanced at Maurice and Jeff, locked in each other's arms a few feet away.

My face warmed. He had been thinking the same thing. "I hope so." I pressed my face into his neck and held him tighter. He had come along when I was despairing of ever feeling anything other than pain, and tormented me with his teasing and outrageous behavior. Gradually, we had drifted into friendship, and now... he was everything to me.

I'd had seven wonderful years with Andrew, but he was my past, now. Karl was my future, and the rest of my life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy. Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of 8, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late 20s.

Posting stories based on some of her favorite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing "hobby" more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races into the house afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and joy, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

CONTACT LOUISE

Facebook: www.facebook.com/louiselyonsauthor

Twitter: www.twitter.com/louiselyons013

Website: www.louiselyonsauthor.com

Email: louiselyons013@gmail.com

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MORE BY LOUISE

Conflicted

Second Bite of the Cherry

Hungry For Love

Beautiful Thunder

Finding Beck

Favorite Toy

On The Outside

Cervena

Regeneration

Separation

