Boyfriend Material (London Calling, #1)

by Alexis Hall

Since Sunday, Oliver and I had been sporadically fake-texting, which was becoming increasingly indistinguishable from real texting. My phone was never far from my hand, and my sense of time had distorted around my understanding of Oliver’s schedule. He always sent me something first thing in the morning, usually an apology for the continued absence of dick pics, then it would be silence ’til lunchtime because important law stuff was happening, and sometimes he would work through lunch so I wouldn’t hear from him at all. Come the evening, he’d check in before and after hitting the gym, and diligently ignore my request for updates on his V-cut. And once he was in bed, I’d bombard him with as many annoying questions as I could think of about whatever he was reading, usually based on the Wikipedia plot summary I’d just Googled. All of which was a long-winded way of saying I was surprised when he rang me at eleven thirty. “Is this a butt-dialling,” I asked, “or is someone dead?” “Neither. I’ve had a bad morning, and I thought it would look suspicious if I didn’t call the person I’m supposed to be dating.” “So you thought they’d notice you not calling me, but they wouldn’t notice you saying ‘supposed to be dating’ aloud on the phone?” “You’re right.” He was quiet a moment. “I think, perhaps, I just wanted someone to talk to.” “And you picked me?” “I thought giving you an opportunity to laugh at my expense might make me feel better.” “You’re a strange man, Oliver Blackwood. But i...