Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
By the time he went to bed, his phone was still obstinately silent and message-free. Despondent and confused, it took Dev ages to go to sleep that night, and when he did, he dreamed of Ewan’s smile and his freckles and his sexy accent.
Ewan lay awake in bed staring at the messages on his phone. He’d read them so many times by now that they were probably seared onto his brain permanently. Guilt gnawed at his gut as he looked at Dev’s words—casual, cheerful, expectant. There was nothing there to suggest that Dev felt any differently about him after their night together. It seemed that for Dev, nothing had changed on Saturday night, whereas Ewan’s world felt rocked to its foundations.
He ought to reply. Hell, he should have replied on Sunday afternoon. Even if this was just a casual, fuck-buddy thing for Dev, leaving him hanging was still a shitty thing to do. But Ewan had no idea what he was supposed to say.
I’m sorry, but I can’t shag you anymore because I’ve gone and fallen in love with you.
Like an idiot.
Ewan snorted and rolled onto his side, phone still clutched in his hand. That would be the most honest answer, but he didn’t want to make Dev feel like he owed him anything. Ewan was the one who’d fucked things up by developing these inconvenient feelings. He didn’t see the point in admitting them to Dev when Dev didn’t want what he wanted. It would only make things awkward between them.
The idea of losing Dev as a friend hurt just as much as losing the sexual side of their relationship. Maybe if Ewan could get through Friday night without giving himself away, then things would come to a natural end and they could transition to friendship?
He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined fucking Dev. His body reacted, surging with arousal, but the emotions that flooded him along with the desire were overwhelming.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t sleep with Dev again and hide how he felt. He’d do something awful—like cry during sex—and give himself away.
When Ewan opened his eyes and looked at his clock, the numbers showed it was nearly one in the morning. They mocked him, bright and unforgiving.
No sleep for you tonight.
“Fuck it.” Ewan got up and pulled on his running shorts and a T-shirt, then sat on the edge of the bed as he put on his trainers. Perhaps a run would clear his head and exhaust him enough so that he could finally sleep.
The city streets were eerily quiet. Ewan set off at a fast pace, his footsteps echoing as he pounded the pavements until his heart raced and his lungs burned. Without consciously thinking about it, he took his usual route: down through the centre and towards the Hoe.
As he ran, his mind emptied. The peace was welcome after hours of ruminating obsessively. When he reached the Hoe, he was greeted by the muted swoosh of the sea hitting the rocks along the front. The tide was high with a bit of swell. He ran towards the sound and turned to take the path along the front, passing close to Rupert’s flat before looping back along the seafront and over the Hoe. His legs ached, but he pushed himself harder, limbs pumping, breath harsh as he climbed the steep path.
At the top, Ewan stopped to catch his breath. He stared out to sea, remembering how Dev had looked at this view the evening before. His heart flipped. More thoughts of Dev rushed back in, unbidden, filling his consciousness as surely as the waves swept into the rocky coves below.
Panic flooded Ewan. He was in too deep. There was no way he could see Dev on Friday. He was going to have to call it off. But not by text, that was too cruel; face-to-face would be better. Tomorrow he’d go to see Dev and would somehow find the right words to end their arrangement.
With a heavy heart, Ewan turned and started to run again, pushing himself until every cell in his body screamed for mercy. He tried to chase away the pain in his heart with the pain of his body, but he didn’t succeed.
By the time he got home, he was so knackered that after a quick shower to rinse off the sweat, he thought he’d finally be able to sleep.
Sure enough, when he fell into bed—and despite the residual ache in his chest—Ewan enjoyed the dreamless rest of the truly exhausted.
“Have you talked to Ewan yet?” Jez asked as they crossed paths in the kitchen on Wednesday morning. Dev was making toast, glaring at the toaster as he waited for it to pop.
“No.” Dev sighed. “I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me. He’s not replying to my texts.”
Jez poured milk over his cereal. “You could go round and see him?”