Naked Hero - The Journey Away

acknowledging a statement of fact. “Yeah, I understand, Lewis. And I know that it would be awkward for you to be associated in any way with me. That’s why I felt bad about shouting out today. I know I joked about it, but I’m serious now – I don’t want to be an embarrassment to you.”
    Lewis shook his head again. “I am embarrassed. Because I did think that way, when I first met you... No… not when I met you, but afterwards... Later, when I thought about you… I thought you might be an embarrassment to me. That’s terrible. All you’ve done is help me. I wish I could put that right in some way... Perhaps I can.”
    Once again, a hand was placed on his arm, as it was ten days before. Lewis looked at it, placed his own hand on top, gently caressing it. He looked at the eyes, and he could feel their power once more, he could feel their desire. There was no question in either of their minds now… the desire was clearly there, strong and primal – nothing needed to be faked.
    “I need to keep focus, Lee. I need to give this a shot.”
    “It’s okay. I understand,” said Lee, placing his other hand on top of Lewis’s.
    “You always understand.”
    The moment was interrupted by the doorman, who had wandered over to their table and coughed discreetly to announce himself. “Mr. Macleod, the car you ordered is waiting outside, sir. Shall I tell the driver you’ll be down shortly?”
    “We’ll be down in a few minutes. Thank you,” replied Lewis.
    The clench was broken as Lee leaned back into his chair and stretched, muscles forced against the fabric of his tee-shirt then relaxed as he stood to leave. “Okay, Lewis, maybe I’ll see you again someday. I hope so.”
    “Of course you will. I owe you a beer. I’ll give you a call if that’s okay?”
    “Sure thing.”
    Lee offered his hand, but Lewis refused it. “No. I’ll come down with you.”
    They left the room and walked down the staircase to the unattended door below, Lee in front - Lewis behind enjoying the view. When they reached the bottom, Lee stopped before opening the door and turned round. He placed his hand behind Lewis’s head, and softly stroked his hair, then gently pulled him towards him, resting his brow on Lewis’s. They raised their heads, slowly, brow against brow, then nose against nose, till lips touched - just the merest brush then pulled away. Lee’s hand was brought forward from behind Lewis’s head to lay on his cheek as he smiled into his eyes.
    “You call me, whenever you need to, whenever you want to. I’ll be there for you, Lewis. Goodbye.”
    With that he turned away and opened the door, allowing the evening sun to flood through into the hallway where Lewis still stood. A moment later, Lee was in the car and gone.
    Lewis returned to the lounge and sat down at the same table to gather his thoughts. He knew it was going to be tough day, but would never have guessed at the events that unfolded. The match he would prefer to forget about. In the same way, a part of him wanted to forget about Lee Porter. That had been the plan after all: to compartmentalise; put him in his box, and keep him there until the Open was finished. But it would be more difficult now - Lee had made sure of that in spectacular fashion. How could he forget those words that Lee had said, when he was all but lost on the court; or forget his lips and the musky scent of him; the touch of his hand on hair and cheek? How could he forget how much he wanted him - the burning desire that he felt there and then, and would stay with him long into the night? A desire that Lee’s image could never now satisfy, only his reality would be capable of that. No, Lee Porter would not be compartmentalised. There was no box that Lewis could hide him in now. He would have to be faced… much more so than the match.
    His reverie was disturbed by his mobile ringing - it was Jim. ‘Shit!’ he thought. ‘I was supposed to meet him here after the match. Where the hell’s he been?’ It was with infuriating realisation that the answer came to him.
    “Jim! Where are you?” asked Lewis frostily.
    “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Lewis - I’ve been arranging something for tomorrow. I’ll be there in a few minutes if you’re ready.”
    “Right you are, Jim.”
    “Are you okay, Lewis? You’re not letting it get to you, are you – the match I mean?”
    “No, Jim, not the match. I’ll see you downstairs at the door, unless you want to come up for a drink