Love Is Always Write Volume 4

sighed.
    He'd been seduced by a slutty twink. And he was never, ever going to let it happen again. He picked the sticky condom up off the floor, plopped it into a plastic bag and chucked it in the bin.
    ****
    Nick was at work when his mobile rang. Thankfully, the partition at least partially shielded him from Steve, the greasy haired IT guy he had the misfortune to sit opposite. After two weeks he'd given up on checking his mobile every couple of minutes, or taking a peek at the cheeky wink he'd not yet deleted. So he didn't even bother to look at the display before picking up.
    "Nick Dobson."
    "Hi, it's Sam."
    He sat bolt upright, popping up from behind the partition, inadvertently alerting Steve to the fact that this was a call worth listening to. Knocking the dregs of his cold morning coffee onto the keyboard didn't help either. He took the packet of tissues Steve smugly handed him, and started mopping up.
    "Uh, yeah, hi." He built a tissue dam at the edge of the desk to halt the wet stream of liquid snaking its way towards him. "Shit. Hang on a minute."
    "You ok?"
    "Hmm? Yeah." He dabbed some more. "Yeah sure, sorry, just spilt something."
    "Oh right." Sam chuckled. "Wow, I have quite the effect on you."
    A blush crept up Nick's neck as he swabbed away at the keyboard, mashing the tissue into the gaps between the keys. It wasn't helping. He gave up and turned it upside down. He glanced back at Steve who was now pretending to look at something on his screen. Nick swivelled his chair around and looked out the window.
    "How are you?" Nick asked.
    "Yeah, good." There was a long pause. Unusual for Sam. "Look, I really need to sort stuff out with my insurance company. They're hassling me about it. You got the quote through yet?"
    He was calling about the car.
    The cold chill of disappointment doused the heat in Nick's cheeks. But after two weeks, what had he really been expecting? "I was just calling because I fancied being bent over some old geezer's car for a repeat performance." Not likely. Sam was gorgeous. He could get it anywhere. Who knew how many dicks he'd got through in the last two weeks while Nick had been mooning over his text? Of course he was calling about the car. Bollocks .
    Nick straightened up so his voice wouldn't give away the tightness in his throat. "Oh yeah, they said they sent it through. You not got it yet?"
    "Nope. I really need to get it sorted though. Can you chase it up?"
    "Yeah, I'll give them a call." He hesitated. "No problem."
    No fucking problem at all.
    Nick took a deep breath before swivelling back to ignore Steve's inquisitive gaze. He stared instead at the fuzzy blue partition, at the pieces of paper pinned there: job lists and phone numbers of people he didn't know and didn't care about. And one small photo of Libby. He'd got fed up with telling people that 'yes, she was his daughter, and no, he didn't see her anymore,' so he'd tucked it away in the corner.
    He unpinned it, fiddled with the cardboard stand and set it back down on his desk. He was on his own. Probably for the best, anyway.
    ****
    Nick was lying back on the sofa with a bottle of beer, reflecting on what a sad bastard he was, when the phone started skittering its way across the coffee table. Probably Vodafone, giving him a ton of free credit to call...um...no one with. He closed his eyes and went back to his beer, concentrating on the warm feel of the liquid seeping into his empty stomach. The beep beep that followed told him they'd left a message anyway.
    He would have ignored that too if it wasn't for the thought that maybe it was the insurance company with the quote he was waiting for. The one Sam was waiting for. He reached for the phone.
    Unless Bell Direct had started sending winks to their customers, which he seriously doubted, it wasn't them.
    As he stared gormlessly at the message on the screen, the phone vibrated again, almost jumping out of his hand. He checked the display this time, sitting up straight and giving a quick cough to clear his throat before he answered. "Hi."
    "Hi, it's Sam."
    "Hi," he repeated. "I haven't got that quote yet. I called them and they're getting back to me, if that's why you're calling."
    "It's not."
    "It's not what?"
    "Why I'm calling."
    "Oh."
    "What you doing?"
    He looked at the remains of yesterday's microwave meal-for-one on the coffee table, and the bottle of beer next to it. "Not a lot."
    "So I can come round then?"
    "Uh, well, yeah, I suppose. But..."
    "Alright. See you