“Do you guys need a drink or something?” His tone, and the frown he directed at Ash clearly stated:

I’m watching you.

Ash smiled at him, like butter wouldn’t melt. “No, I think we’re good, thanks. How was the mithai?

“Yeah, fine,” Ginger mumbled. “Fizz, do you need anything?”

Fizz was currently dying from embarrassment, yet again. “Um, no, thank you.”

After a prolonged silence, Ginger left again.

Ash snickered into his hand. Fizz was instantly relieved, then starting worrying about the fact that

he wanted to be alone with Ash. Looking over at their finished plates and the decimated puddings,

Fizz wondered if this was their second date. Ash had already cooked him dinner once, and now they

were watching movies. This was a date, right? What were they doing, exactly?

And, more importantly, why hadn’t Ash made a move on him yet?

Fizz spent the second half of the movie sitting ramrod straight, too afraid to budge, or move a

muscle. He couldn’t even glance at Ash now, hyper aware of everything he did, worrying it would be

taken the wrong way. Panic raced through his mind. What if Ash tried to kiss him? What should he

do? Fizz really wanted Ash to kiss him, even though he knew it was a bad idea.

God, this was such a mess already. He wondered if he should go back to his room. That thought

wasn’t tempting, though. He didn’t like his room much anyway.

Here, in Ryan’s room, it was warm and welcoming. And Ash was here.

When the movie ended, Fizz had just about fretted himself into a tense jumble of nerves. He was

quietly doing his breathing exercises in order to stay calm. This is it, he thought, bracing himself.

However, Ash didn’t try anything. He checked his watch, said he had a curfew of midnight, then

hurried to get his things together. Fizz watched him, completely shocked. A heavy, sad feeling stilled

his panic. He realised it was disappointment.

“Um, thank you for tonight,” he told Ash. He wanted to add how grateful he was simply for the

company, but he worried that would sound too lame.

Ash smiled, just a little, but the way his eyes shone showed how happy he was. “Hey, you know

what?” he said. “When it’s a nice day, we should totally go on the pier.”

“Um...” What? No way.

“Go on.”

“Ash, I – I don’t know.”

“I think you’ll like it.”

“Um...okay?” Fizz agreed. Oh, crap.

“Great.” Ash flashed him another smile. “Look, I’ve got a shit-load of coursework to finish up this

week, but I’ll see you around soon.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask you something though?”

Fizz’s heart started hammering. “Um, what?”

“Why Fizz?”

“Huh?”

“Your name.”

“Oh.” Fizz’s cheeks burned. “Fitzherbert. That’s my surname.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Jamie,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“Cool.”

Fizz honestly thought he was about to have a panic attack, but then Ash said a quick goodbye and,

with a final smile, he darted off. Left on his own, Fizz’s heart slowed, and his breathing evened out.

He didn’t know how he would keep up with these feelings if he saw Ash again.

Chapter Eleven

Two weeks later

Ryan knew when Ginger was annoyed. The tell-tale signs were written all over him; from the

visible tension in his shoulders, to the faint frown and slightly pursed lips. All subtly pointing to the

fact that Ginger was going to snap at someone, and soon.

Ryan hoped it wouldn’t be him.

The day hadn’t started off well. In fact, the week hadn’t started off well. Aside from a messed up

order which left them with double the amount of wine but half the amount of beer they needed, one of

the pumps had broken. The brewery couldn’t get anyone out to them until next week, which was

ridiculous. Ginger had been down in the cellar most of the morning trying to fix it himself, but to no

avail.

Usually Ginger was good at fixing things, but he’d definitely lost his D.I.Y. mojo this week. He was

annoyed he hadn’t been able to fix the staff toilet upstairs too, but what had annoyed Ginger the most

was having to chase the management company to determine who was responsible for the plumbing.

One of the toilets still worked, but no one could be sure for how long. Every time someone flushed it,

or turned on the taps in the bathroom, the pipes started rattling, and blowing a foghorn.

Ryan had commented earlier that the noise sounded rather like the horn of Helm Hammerhand from

Lord of the Rings. The fact that Ginger hadn’t found his joke amusing had been Ryan’s first indicator

he was in a bad mood.

One of those days, Ryan thought. He was currently on shift with Rachel in the bar, which was dead.

Great start to Saturday. The rain was beating down heavily outside, and they barely had any customers

to speak of. It didn’t bode well for the Solstice celebrations on the beach that night. The bar would

probably receive its share of rain-soaked party goers later on, which Ryan wasn’t particularly looking

forward to.

He glanced through the entryway, into the back bar. Ginger was still there, chasing up their rep

from the management company, using the bar’s phone to make his calls.

Footsteps pattered down the stairs, and Sammy flounced his way into the bar. He was huffing and

rolling his eyes already and, as soon as he saw Ryan and Rachel, complained that his mobile phone

was missing. In a roundabout way, it sounded like he blamed Matt.

Ginger interrupted Sammy mid-flow. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere, Sammy. Why don’t you look

for it?”

Ryan could hear the strain in Ginger’s voice, and he wished Sammy would pipe down. Sammy went

on to complain about the bathroom door upstairs, and how it wouldn’t lock properly. Rachel rolled her

eyes, and wandered away. Unfazed, Sammy recounted the tale to Ryan and Ginger of how the

bathroom door had swung open that morning, whilst he was in the bath, and Matt had been on the

other side. Apparently, Matt hadn’t known where to look, Sammy told them.

Ryan was surprised at the story. He remembered a similar incident in that bathroom, when Ginger

had almost seen him naked, straight out of the shower. Oh, God. Just the thought of it now had a flush

heating his neck. Ryan hoped it wouldn’t reach his face, or Sammy would definitely pick up on it.

Luckily, Ash appeared through the door. Sopping wet, too. He was a merciful distraction, yet also

another problem; Ryan knew he was here to see Fizz. How would he get past Sammy?

Oh, dear.

Ryan leapt into action, greeting Ash, and tried to get him upstairs without an over eager Sammy

shadowing their steps. It had been two weeks since Ash and Fizz had watched their movies together.

Since then, they’d been alone on two more occasions, and Ryan was dying to know how it was going.

He ushered Ash upstairs, while simultaneously banning Sammy from following him.

Sammy stayed in the bar. He huffed and grumbled, clearly offended that Ash hadn’t stayed.

In fact, he complained about it solidly for a good five minutes.

Ryan noticed Ginger set down the phone in the back bar, then pick it up again and dial. He

misdialled a few times, and glanced at Sammy with a frown. The distraction was clearly getting to

him.

Sammy then made the mistake of saying, “Well, if Ash prefers My Little Emo, then that’s his poor

choice.”

Ginger slammed the phone down, glaring at him. “What did you say?”

Sammy was instantly quiet. The look on his face said it all; he knew he’d gone too far.

“N-nothing,” he mumbled.

“If you’re not on shift, Sammy, can you get out of the bar? Some of us have work to do.”