It was months before I realised what was happening. I gradually began to see that whenever Bodie and I went out in a foursome with a couple of birds that we spent more time with each other than with them. We'd go to a pub and sit the girls down and, while they were nattering about God knows what, Bodie and me would be stood at the bar comparing notes about the girls' attributes and taking the piss out of the rest of the clientele. Then, when it was time to leave, we'd be walking along the street laughing our socks off at something or other while the girls were about fifty yards in front of us, completely oblivious to whatever it was that the pair of us were giggling about.

Not that I'm knocking any of the birds I went out with. The sex was always good of course. Well, about seventy-five per cent of the time it was. The rest of the time it was OK, I suppose.

And then one day I thought 'Why bother?' Why go to all the bother of finding a couple of birds and then spending all night handing over our hard-earned just for a bit of between-the-sheets action that didn't really amount to much anyway. To me it seemed a waste of time when it was Bodie's company that I looked forward to more than anything else. So I suggested to him that one Saturday night we should just go and have a few drinks, grab a curry on the way home and then spend the rest of the night watching 'Match of the Day' on the box. He did look at me a bit funny at first, I must admit, but he agreed readily enough and it soon became a regular routine. Sometimes we would clock a pair of birds and give them a bit of chat and, if we were lucky, they might end up sharing the curry with us. Sometimes more than a curry. But that wasn't the ultimate goal of our Saturday nights. Not for me, anyway. Don't know about Bodie.


Then one night we went to this pub that was positively heaving. It was so busy that you almost had to hold your pint above your head to stop it getting spilled. Bodie managed to wedge himself against the bar whereas I was being knocked and jostled by everyone who passed. In the end I was sick of it and I wanted to leave but Bodie had his awkward head on and wouldn't budge. He got his eye on some drunk who was making a right prat of himself and was nearly pissing himself laughing at the bloke and before too long he'd got me nearly wetting myself as well. So when the bloke decided that he wasn't particularly enjoying our amusement at his antics and made a lunge for me it just so happened that I was looking the other way. He caught me completely off balance and I went flying. Bodie, however, had seen it coming and had braced himself, catching me as I stumbled and stopping me from demolishing at least two bar stools.


That's when something weird happened to me. As his arms wrapped around me it was as though a surge of electricity had passed through my body. It literally made me gasp. And then as I stood upright again his arms had remained where they were. He was holding me, almost embracing me. It scared the shit out of me, but I didn't want him to let go. He did, of course, although it did occur to me that perhaps he'd held me a little longer than he'd really needed to. Or was that just my imagination? The drunk was being carted off by his mates by the time I extricated myself from Bodie's grasp. He just looked at me and said "Alright sunshine?" and carried on with his pint. There was something going on in that head of his though, I was sure. I took myself off to the gents' and tried to gather my composure. I was gobsmacked, to say the least, at the reaction I'd felt when Bodie had put his arms around me. I splashed some cold water on my face, told myself I was being a right berk and went back into the bar. By now it was busier than ever. I reached past Bodie and picked my pint up off the bar-top and then looked up and caught him smiling at me. I thought I must have missed some remark in all the hubbub and asked him what he'd said, but he just shook his head and carried on looking at me like a Cheshire cat. The whole thing was getting more bizarre by the minute. In the end I gave up trying to talk. The press of bodies around us was pushing us closer and closer together and we were just about capable of lifting our drinks to our mouths without elbowing some innocent soul in the face. It was as I leaned in towards him that I felt his hand on my back. Very gently he was trying to play the piano on my backbone. I tried to ignore it at first, telling myself that in a pub as busy as this was there was no way of telling where your hands would end up. But it was when his hand alighted on my arse that I knew that things weren't exactly as they should be. I somehow managed to move around so that I had my back to the bar and I fixed him with a stare.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady when in fact my insides were shaking like a leaf.

His eyes were boring into my face.

"Are you as thick as you look or what?" he replied.


As soon as I looked at him I had no doubt as to what was on his mind. How many times had I seen that expression on his face, though never directed at me I must admit. I could read him like a book. He wanted me, preferably within the next five minutes judging by the intensity of his gaze.


I was probably opening and closing my mouth like a fish by this time. I certainly couldn't think of any smart-arse thing to say in reply so I just looked at him. Then his arm snaked around my waist and tightened very slightly.

I've never felt my knees turn to jelly before. And while my knees were turning to mush my cock was reacting in completely the opposite way.

"I'm sick of this place. Let's go," he murmured, his lips brushing gently against my ear. Then he turned on his heel, grabbed my wrist and elbowed his way through the crowd towards the door, pulling me along in his wake.

By now I was trying desperately to get my brain into gear and failing miserably. To say that I had been stunned by the way my body had responded to Bodie's touch would be the understatement of the year. And yet everything was suddenly starting to make sense. All the jumble of feelings and emotions that I'd been experiencing over the previous six months or so were suddenly boiled down into just one coherent thought.

I'd fallen for the daft bugger. Well and truly.

But what about him? Had he really been trying it on with me, or had it just been wishful thinking and an overactive imagination on my part?


As we stepped out of the pub into the chilly night the realisation of what was going on hit me just as hard as the icy wind which was gusting down the street.

The whole thing was a monumental wind-up, and so typical of Bodie that I cursed myself for not seeing it earlier. By now he'd let go of my wrist and was several paces in front of me, striding along with his shoulders hunched into the wind. I stood for a second, and as I watched him disappearing into the gloom my blood began to boil. What the fuck did he think he was doing, messing about with people's feelings like that? I set off after him and with every step I became more and more livid. By the time I'd caught up with him I was ready to thump him. He turned as I reached him, wearing a soppy grin on a face that was just begging for a back-hander. I gripped his arm tightly and bundled him into the semi-darkness of a convenient shop doorway, knocking the breath out of him as I slammed him up against the door.

"Ray, what...?" he gasped.

It was as much as I could do to reply.

"Good joke, mate. Had a bloody good laugh, have you, you tosser?"

"No...Sorry... I thought that you....Jesus, Ray, I'm sorry."

There was no hint of amusement in his eyes. Just bewilderment and disappointment. I knew straight away that he wasn't kidding. Not even Bodie's that good an actor. My anger subsided just as swiftly as it had exploded.

I didn't want to hurt him. Of course I didn't.

I wanted to hold him and tell him exactly what I felt for him. I wanted to love him and I wanted him to love me.

He must have seen something in my face because he suddenly relaxed and flashed me that perfect smile. My hands fell from his arms and wound around him as one of his hands came up to cup my cheek.

"It's not just me, is it?" he asked softly. "You do feel it too?"

I'd suddenly lost the power of speech, so I nodded instead.

And then he was leaning in, closing the gap between us so that our lips were almost touching. An alarm bell went off somewhere in the back of my head and I found my voice again.

"For God's sake, Bodie, not here."

He wasn't about to give up.

"Please Ray," he breathed huskily.

I put my hands on his chest to stop him.

Big mistake.

I could feel his nipples, hard against my palms through the fabric of his sweater, and my resistance evaporated. His mouth met mine, tentatively at first, and then more insistently until I was overwhelmed by the intensity of my feelings for him. That kiss left me in no doubt that those feelings were returned. To think that I used to laugh at him when he said that all his birds told him what a great kisser he was. I knew then that every word of it was true.

I don't know how long the kiss lasted, but when it did eventually end I could hardly get my breath.

I gradually managed to get my eyes focused again and looked at him carefully.

"What the hell's happening here?" I asked him. I couldn't stop my voice from shaking as I spoke.

He shrugged and grinned. "I dunno. But I think I'm going to enjoy finding out."

I couldn't help grinning back at him. "Yeah, me too."


And fifteen minutes later, back at his flat, that's exactly what we did.

-- THE END --