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“You really do own your illiteracy, don’t you?” “Yeah, I’m thinking about moving to America and running for public office.”
Mum was pouting. “For a gay, you are far too sensitive about your arsehole.”
There was long silence. Alex blinked again. “Why is he frightened of cycle paths? Did he get into an accident?” “No, it’s that he’s hard, but the other guy’s…a cycle path.” “Yes, but why is he frightened of cycle paths?” Sometimes I lost sight of whether this was my hobby or a punishment I was inflicting on myself. “No, it’s a pun, Alex. Because ‘cycle path,’ if you say it fast and in a sort of Cockney accent, sounds a bit like ‘psychopath.’” “Oh.” He thought about it for a moment or two. “I’m not sure it does, actually.” “You’re right, Alex. I’ll do better next time.”
My anger, like every man I’d ever been with, didn’t seem inclined to stick around.
“Rehabilitate yourself fast. You need to go back to being the sort of harmless sodomite that Waitrose shoppers can feel good about introducing to their left-wing friends and smug about introducing to their right-wing friends.” “For the record, I’m really, really offended by this.” She shrugged. “Darwin was offended by the Ichneumonidae. To his chagrin, they persisted in existing.”
“Well, obviously I mean a boy heiress, not a girl heiress.”
Oh hello, rock bottom. Nice to see you again. Do you want to be my boyfriend?
It felt weirdly patriarchal but I wasn’t sure I was allowed to complain about that, on account of us both being men. “Umm…”
“So.” I tried to sound casual, but I was about to touch on something very serious indeed. “This…brunch…brinner…punk-rock rejection of the egg-based status quo… Will there be French toast?” Oliver flicked up a brow. “There could be. If you’re very good.” “I can be good. What sort of good did you have in mind?” “I wasn’t… I mean, um… I mean, that is… Maybe you can set the table?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, there are two of us in this fake relationship. And it won’t be a very successful fake relationship without real work.”
It was annoyingly watchable,
“M’lud. The honourable gentleman is being mean to me.”
I'm screaming
“Ah. Well. We could do that thing they do in Westminster.” “Fiddle my expense claims?” I suggested. “Send pictures of my penis to journalists pretending to be teenage girls?” “Oh Luc, I’m sure both of those situations were taken very much out of context by an unfair press establishment.”
“Yes, but if one must lose, one prefers to lose honourably rather than ignominiously.” “Y’know, I was going to be sympathetic, right until you started referring to yourself as one.” He gave a little chuckle. “One is sorry.” “One fucking well better be. One isn’t the fucking queen.”
“I’m a dick man, myself. Thick and solid, and piping hot, and slathered in what the French call crème anglaise.”
“I don’t want fine. Fine isn’t enough. It’s not about the open fire or whatever other clichés you can conjure up, but yes, I want a connection. I want you to care as much as I care. I want you to need it and want it and mean it. I want it to matter.”
Fuck. I wanted to lick him.
“You’re hot when you’re being idealistic.” “I’m hot all the time, Lucien. As you’ve just observed, I look like a swimwear model.”
“You’d be amazed what I can doubt.”
Of course, Oliver had probably failed to factor in my deeply ingrained—and repeatedly validated—belief that everything good in my life was just waiting for the perfect moment to fuck off and leave me.
“Well, fuck me sideways with a baked aubergine.”
“It was a rhetorical aubergine, Rhys.”
You can keep your pie, infidels.”
you know, I would love you anyway, even if you were a straight.”
“I’m just worried that someone will hurt you again.” “Yeah well. So was I for a long time, and I think that was hurting me more.”
And Oliver was all casual again: another crisp pair of jeans, into which his distractingly fabulous arse was wholesomely nestled, and a cream,
I cut the quote of where the page ended because i thought it was funny. Also haha cream
“Maybe. I have very low self-esteem.”
“My friends are just the people who happen to be my friends. There are a lot of straight people in the world. I like some of them.”
This one's for Tan-Tan ~<3
I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’d love to go to your straight-people party with you.” “Thank you.” His lips twitched. “Just a quick word of advice: if you’re at a straight-people party, you should try to avoid referring to it as a straight-people party.” I tsked. “God, it’s political correctness gone mad.”
