Fizz thought he could certainly do with a good coffee. “Yeah, sure. Have you brought it?”

“Yep. Well, I brought the stuff. I thought I’d make it fresh.” Ash rummaged through his bag. “Can I

borrow a pan?”

Fizz picked out a clean pan from the draining board. “Like this?”

“Yeah, perfect. Can you do me a favour, and half fill it with water?”

“Um, yeah. Cold water?”

“Yep, perfect.”

Fizz filled up the pan from the sink with cold water, and handed it over. Ash smiled at him as he

took it. Fizz felt his cheeks burn, and he watched Ash set to work, laying his ingredients out on the

counter. Little bags of sugar, ground coffee, and something that looked like very fine light brown

powder. It certainly smelt good. Exotic and spicy.

“What’s that?” Fizz asked, peering over Ash’s shoulder.

“Cardamom. It’s what flavours the coffee. Trust me, you’ll love it.” Ash dumped sugar in the pan,

then set it to heat. “Is there a spoon around here?”

Fizz was pleased he was able to offer a clean spoon to Ash. He’d scrubbed for ages to get all the

cutlery clean. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Ash stirred the water. “Now, as my gran says, a watched pot never boils.” He laid the

spoon on the counter, and made for the table, pulling out a tuppaware box. “Got some mithai in here.

Janesh was trying out different recipes.”

“Janesh?”

“My sister-in-law.”

“Oh.” Fizz followed Ash’s lead, and they both sat at the table. Ash moved the box between them so

they could pick out the pastries. Fizz would have got plates but the deserts were too tempting. His

nausea had drifted away, thankfully, and he ate two sweets. The pastry dissolved almost instantly on

his tongue. “Mm. They’re good.”

“Yeah, Janesh is a wicked cook. I like this one.” Ash pointed at one variety, then another as he said,

“I don’t like this one.”

“Aren’t they the same?” Fizz picked up the one Ash didn’t like. They all tasted good to him.

“Hah! They are so not the same. Okay, I don’t hate it. I mean, I’d still eat it if that was the only one

going.”

Fizz smiled. “So you’d rather eat something you don’t like much, just for the sake of it?”

“Oh, I’m addicted to sugar,” Ash said, grinning down at the sweets. “My dad’s even worse. He’d

hoover up this whole tray in two seconds flat, given half a chance. This is his favourite...” Ash talked

as they ate, pointing at the various sweets, telling Fizz what was in them. When he jumped up to take

the pan off the boil, Fizz watched him add coffee and the cardamom, stirring the mixture. He studied

the lines and curves of Ash’s body, in his t-shirt and the figure hugging jeans that looked so good. He

didn’t want to be caught staring, but it was almost impossible not to sneak looks at Ash.

“Won’t be long,” Ash said. He replaced the pan on the hob, seemingly oblivious to Fizz’s gaze.

“You’re not supposed to drink it with milk or anything, but it might be a little strong for you. I can

add milk if you want.”

Fizz shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure?” He glanced at him, and gave him a wink. “I won’t tell.”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

“Okay. Cool.” Ash tapped his spoon on the counter, fidgeting. “Cool,” he said again. “So, um...” He

smiled, then lowered his eyes. Fizz had come to recognise that expression as something Ash did when

he was a little nervous. He was obviously building up to ask something.

Oh God.

Fizz’s throat suddenly felt too tight. His last mouthful of pastry was hard to swallow.

“So...I live up by Preston Circus, right?” Ash started. “There’s this little cinema there, it’s really

old actually. Because it’s independent they show art-house and more off-the-radar films. I brought a

brochure along.” Ash pointed with his spoon. “It’s in the bottom of the bag. Take a look.”

Fizz looked through the bag, his fingers trembling. He found the brochure, and stared at it. His

mind instantly got carried away with images of him and Ash sitting in a darkened back row. He’d

never even been to a cinema before, but he could guess what people did in the back row. Or wanted to

do.

“Me and Ryan go sometimes,” Ash said casually, leaning against the hob. He stirred his mixture in

the pan. “It’s real nice, and because it’s not mainstream, it isn’t full of loud, annoying morons. If you

sit up on the balcony, you can buy alcohol too.”

Fizz wasn’t a drinker. Perhaps Ash remembered this, as he added, “Or, they sell tea and cake

downstairs, and ice cream. That’s more my taste. Anyway, check out the films.”

He did as Ash asked, scanning through the pages. Fizz thought this would be exactly the kind of

stuff his father would have hated; foreign films with subtitles. Films where you had to engage your

brain. They even showed Japanese anime and late night horror movies, by the looks of it. He wouldn’t

dare watch any of those in public, in case he freaked out.

Fizz scanned through the middle section, then spotted a headline. Bollywood Week. He stared at the

page. The titles burned into his memory as he read them: Bride & Prejudice, Om Shanti Om, Monsoon

Wedding, Devdas, Lage Raho Munnabhai, Slumdog Millionaire, Lagaan.

So that’s what Ash had been getting at. Still, it felt there was a title missing.

“No Dhoom?” he asked.

“Hah!” Ash chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I said! I’m going to write a serious letter of complaint.

Janesh is well excited ‘cause they’re playing Devdas. Shahrukh Khan is her favourite actor. He’s like

the Indian Tom Cruise.”

The coffee in the pan was foaming, its spiced scent filled the room. Ash let it foam for a few

moments, still chatting about various actors, then brought it off the boil. He turned off the hob, then

poured the mixture into two mugs.

“Here you go.” He placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of Fizz. “Indian coffee, as promised. It

should be in little cups, but I’m an idiot and forgot to bring them.”

“Don’t worry.” Fizz picked up his mug and stared into the drink. It looked and smelled like coffee,

but more interesting. The smell was divine. “Thank you.”

Ash sat down. He smiled nervously again, then continued chatting. “Om Shanti Om is pretty cool,

by the way.” He inched a little closer, under the pretence of peering at the cinema brochure, and

pointed out the movie with his finger. “It’s a fun flick, with lots of people in it. Like a who’s who of

Bollywood.”

Fizz leaned away slightly, pushing the brochure towards Ash. Because he was a coward, he hid

behind his coffee mug. He took a sip and burnt his tongue. “This is nice,” he said weakly.

“Is it sweet enough?” Ash went to take a sip of his cup, then pulled a face. “It’s hot, be careful. It’s

‘cause you’re supposed to let it foam when you cook it, so it stays hot forever. Well, a long time,

anyway.”

“Mm. It’s fine.” Fizz sipped again. Well, he’d already burnt his mouth. The coffee was a hot treat

burning down his throat.

“I live right by the Picture-house,” Ash continued. “Have you been that way? It’s only at the end of

London Road. Basically, if you take a left out of the pub, and keep walking, it’s up the road. Ten

minutes, tops. Really close.”

Fizz’s heart hammered. He could hear the unspoken invitation there, and the forced casual tone of

Ash’s voice. Or was he reading this all wrong? Was Ash just being friendly? But Ash had already

invited him over for dinner with his family. Did friends do that? What was Fizz supposed to do?

So much for the pills helping his anxiety.

After a long, awkward silence, Ash changed the subject. “Er...what were your plans tonight?”

“I could do some glass collecting, I guess.”