Love Is Always Write Volume 4

on. "You married?"
    "Nope. Divorced. You?" He didn't really mean it. Just wanted to see what Sam's reaction would be.
    Turned out to be a loud snort. "Yeah right. At my age?"
    "I was married at your age." That'd shut him up.
    It did, but only for two seconds. "How come you got divorced then?"
    Jesus, what was wrong with this lad?
    "Um, well, let's see. Turns out my bitch of an ex-wife wasn't happy being married to a poof, as she so nicely put it." There. That should do it.
    Or not.
    "I knew it," Sam boasted, his blue eyes sparkling. "I so knew it. My gaydar is in-fucking-vincible . Like some kind of a gaydar superhero or something." The jigging started again. "It's better than yours I bet. Did you figure me out? I bet you didn't. And I'm not even a straight wannabe like you. I so fucking knew it. You know what, we should go out some time. It'd be fun. I bet you don't go clubbing any more, do you? We could go down to Escape...Hey, down this next one, on the left."
    "What?" Nick spluttered, bewildered by the sudden change of subject. Had he just been asked out by a twenty-three-year-old? And the straight wannabe bit. What the hell was that about?
    "There." Sam pointed to a new-build block of town houses. "Just here'll do."
    "Oh, right." Nick pulled the car over.
    "Thanks mate." Sam grinned. "For the lift and all. And uh, sorry about the car. I'll get it sorted. Might not do it through the insurance though. I haven't got fully comp, and yours doesn't look too bad, so...Look, can you let me know how much it's gonna be?" He climbed out of the car and started fiddling with the flashy mobile he'd dug out of his pocket. "What's your number? I'll text you mine."
    Nick reeled it off. Sam punched the numbers in then gestured to Nick's vibrating pocket. "There's my text. See you later." He slammed the door and bounded off, leaving Nick to watch his pert arse as he disappeared around the side of the building.
    And to wonder what the hell had just happened.
    ****
    Nick slouched back onto the sofa and let out a long sigh. What was wrong with him? A man his age should not be spending his evening staring at his mobile, trying to decipher what a texted wink meant. That was the sort of thing a teenage girl would do. If his daughter actually spoke to him, he'd have been able to ask her. "Hey Libby, what does it mean if a boy sends you a wink? Does it mean he likes you?" Bloody hell. If he didn't watch it, he'd be sitting around eating ice cream and watching 'Mamma Mia' soon.
    This was all that damn twink's fault. He'd started it when he'd sort of asked Nick out. And then he'd sent a wink. He could have just sent a normal smiley. Or even better, just his number. Could you do that? Could you just send your number? Nick sent a blank text to himself. Yep, you could do that. Not that it mattered. It's not like he was going to see the lad again anyway. He'd just text him the cost of the repairs and that would be it.
    Nothing more.
    ****
    And it would have been nothing more if Nick's car didn't have one fuck-off great big problem that neither of them had noticed: the boot wouldn't open. Not with the bleeper, not with the keys, and not with the full force of Nick's foot lunging up at it. Something had moved, shunted out of place. Which meant that it was no longer going to be a cheap, insurance-free repair. And it also meant he'd need to call Sam to let him know.
    Sam sounded pleased to hear from him, until he told him the reason for the call.
    "Fucking hell, are you sure?" Sam spluttered.
    "Yes, of course I'm sure. I haven't got anyone to look at it yet, but I thought I should let you know. I think you're gonna have to get your insurance involved." He swore he could hear Sam pacing around on the other end of the phone.
    "Well, can I come round and have a look at it?" Sam asked.
    Pert arse or not, he was starting to piss Nick off. "Sure, if you want to waste your time coming round to check something I've already told you about, feel free."
    "Can I come now?"
    Nick sighed. "If you want. I'm not going anywhere."
    "Okay. I'll have to cycle. Give me half an hour."
    Half an hour. That gave Nick just about enough time to get ready. For what, he wasn't sure.
    ****
    Two changes of clothes and a splash of aftershave later, Nick was in the garage. He was in full-on Nico mode, braced for a shouting match over who was going to pay for what.
    He heard the click, click, click of a bike's wheels, which made him cringe at the thought that he'd been lusting