Read Online Boys in Season (Boys In... Book 2) by Clare London - Free Book Online
Authors: Clare London
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remember mine. I was too young when I went into care.”
“Jamie…”
“No, it’s okay. My foster parents were good, they all were. It’s just I learned to be careful with people.” He swallowed hard, he’d never really spoken about his past like this. “I didn’t like anyone getting too close, in case they moved me on. I suppose that’s what made me so cautious. It’s only since I’ve been adult and living on my own that I’ve been able to make friends, to get to know people. Christmas was always strange, when I was young. Nowadays, at least I feel it’s my own life, I can make my own choices. But I don’t always get it right.” He shook his head, annoyed with himself. “I know I don’t express it well enough.”
“Yes, you do,” Seb said. He’d taken a step nearer, too. “Show me what you’re making.”
“Pardon? I mean, if you really want me to.” Jamie stood aside to show the salad he was preparing. It was a combination of ripe, bright green leaves and vegetables: pale and dark, common and exotic, all tossed together in a deep glass bowl. He was pleased with the combinations—the tartness of rocket leaves, the tang of fennel, crispy shreds of romaine lettuce, raw carrot and spring onion. Harry’s fridge and cupboards had been delightfully well-stocked, with as many vegetables as meat.
Seb was taking his time perusing Jamie’s handiwork, and Jamie made the most of the chance to take a deep breath. He felt very disorientated tonight, obviously making him speak so rashly.
“Look,” Seb said. “Whatever you think, I don’t do it deliberately.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Piss you off. The moodiness… well, it’s just me. It’s not petulance, whatever you say. I’m stubborn, okay, and hot-headed. But it’s not an act, Jamie. It’s just…”
“Passion.” The word said itself, Jamie swore it.
Seb’s eyes widened and something flickered in the depths of his pupils, like tiny flames. “Uh. Yes. I just see that disapproving expression on your face and that’s it, I see red. I want to shake up that coldness in you. I just follow my feelings, you know? Well, you probably do. You think that’s reckless, I find it liberating. But it’s not always the right thing to do, I know that. It can be fucking annoying. Okay, so can I . But like you said about yourself, I’m not always happy about that.”
“It’s not coldness.” Jamie was stricken. “That’s not how I feel towards you. Far from it!” He knew the flush was spreading all through his body, he could feel it. He’d look like one of the sweet peppers on the counter if he wasn’t careful. “And I’m beginning to agree with you, too—about the liberating effect. I see the way you behave, and the fun you have, and the confidence you have.” He stopped, then laughed gently. “For a presumably intelligent, articulate young man, I’m still struggling, right?”
“No,” Seb said. Now it was the turn of his voice to sound hoarse. “You’re clear enough to me.”
Jamie gazed at him. It was as if they suddenly spoke without words. He reached out a hand and brushed the damp hair off Seb’s forehead. “Maybe you’re not the only one who gets jealous,” he said.
***
Seb was vividly aware of a lot of things, suddenly—the humid air in the kitchen; the harsh sound of his breath; the way Jamie’s hair curled awkwardly over his left ear; the bright shine of emotion in Jamie’s eyes.
“Here,” he said, abruptly. “You want some?” He scooped up a handful of the cranberries he’d been using in his chutney and held them out.
Jamie looked down, startled, but then he opened up his own hand and let Seb trickle them into his palm. With Seb watching, Jamie turned back to his dish and scattered them carefully into the salad. He picked up a wooden spoon and mixed them in, the rich, dark red berries shining in contrast with the greens. “A true Christmas effect,” he said slowly, and smiled. “It looks
“Jamie…”
“No, it’s okay. My foster parents were good, they all were. It’s just I learned to be careful with people.” He swallowed hard, he’d never really spoken about his past like this. “I didn’t like anyone getting too close, in case they moved me on. I suppose that’s what made me so cautious. It’s only since I’ve been adult and living on my own that I’ve been able to make friends, to get to know people. Christmas was always strange, when I was young. Nowadays, at least I feel it’s my own life, I can make my own choices. But I don’t always get it right.” He shook his head, annoyed with himself. “I know I don’t express it well enough.”
“Yes, you do,” Seb said. He’d taken a step nearer, too. “Show me what you’re making.”
“Pardon? I mean, if you really want me to.” Jamie stood aside to show the salad he was preparing. It was a combination of ripe, bright green leaves and vegetables: pale and dark, common and exotic, all tossed together in a deep glass bowl. He was pleased with the combinations—the tartness of rocket leaves, the tang of fennel, crispy shreds of romaine lettuce, raw carrot and spring onion. Harry’s fridge and cupboards had been delightfully well-stocked, with as many vegetables as meat.
Seb was taking his time perusing Jamie’s handiwork, and Jamie made the most of the chance to take a deep breath. He felt very disorientated tonight, obviously making him speak so rashly.
“Look,” Seb said. “Whatever you think, I don’t do it deliberately.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Piss you off. The moodiness… well, it’s just me. It’s not petulance, whatever you say. I’m stubborn, okay, and hot-headed. But it’s not an act, Jamie. It’s just…”
“Passion.” The word said itself, Jamie swore it.
Seb’s eyes widened and something flickered in the depths of his pupils, like tiny flames. “Uh. Yes. I just see that disapproving expression on your face and that’s it, I see red. I want to shake up that coldness in you. I just follow my feelings, you know? Well, you probably do. You think that’s reckless, I find it liberating. But it’s not always the right thing to do, I know that. It can be fucking annoying. Okay, so can I . But like you said about yourself, I’m not always happy about that.”
“It’s not coldness.” Jamie was stricken. “That’s not how I feel towards you. Far from it!” He knew the flush was spreading all through his body, he could feel it. He’d look like one of the sweet peppers on the counter if he wasn’t careful. “And I’m beginning to agree with you, too—about the liberating effect. I see the way you behave, and the fun you have, and the confidence you have.” He stopped, then laughed gently. “For a presumably intelligent, articulate young man, I’m still struggling, right?”
“No,” Seb said. Now it was the turn of his voice to sound hoarse. “You’re clear enough to me.”
Jamie gazed at him. It was as if they suddenly spoke without words. He reached out a hand and brushed the damp hair off Seb’s forehead. “Maybe you’re not the only one who gets jealous,” he said.
***
Seb was vividly aware of a lot of things, suddenly—the humid air in the kitchen; the harsh sound of his breath; the way Jamie’s hair curled awkwardly over his left ear; the bright shine of emotion in Jamie’s eyes.
“Here,” he said, abruptly. “You want some?” He scooped up a handful of the cranberries he’d been using in his chutney and held them out.
Jamie looked down, startled, but then he opened up his own hand and let Seb trickle them into his palm. With Seb watching, Jamie turned back to his dish and scattered them carefully into the salad. He picked up a wooden spoon and mixed them in, the rich, dark red berries shining in contrast with the greens. “A true Christmas effect,” he said slowly, and smiled. “It looks
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