“Well...I wouldn’t say no.”

Matt met his eyes, clearly relieved. A smile made it onto his face. “What do you want?”

Sammy went to shrug, then winced at the pain in his shoulder. “Ow. Um, I don’t know. Let me

think for a minute.”

“Okay.” Matt shifted from foot to foot.

His nervousness seemed strange, Sammy thought. Was Matt feeling guilty? Was he the one to

blame for the accident? But that was nuts, surely; why would everyone else cover up something like

that? Maybe Matt still felt guilty over dumb waiter incident. Whatever it was, if Matt wanted to cook

to ease his guilt, Sammy was all for it. He took his first mouthful of cake, and ate thoughtfully.

Matt waited.

Was he going to stand there forever, like a butler? Sammy sighed, trying to think. “I guess...I

haven’t had bangers and mash in a while.”

“Bangers and mash? That all?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah, I feel like something stodgy, but not icky stodgy, I want nice stodgy.”

“Right.” Matt smiled, not meeting his eyes. “Bangers and mash. When did you fancy eating?”

“Oh, not right now, I just ate that homity pie.”

“Good.”

“Did you make that for me?”

Matt glanced at him, then away. “Yeah.”

Well, he hadn’t been poisoned so far, Sammy thought. And this cake was amazing. “Um...thanks,

for the food. I think...maybe a couple of hours, like six? I didn’t eat much in the hospital. Their food

was rank.”

“Yeah, I bet. Okay, I’ll go start the prep, then. Six is fine.” Matt went to turn away, mumbling

quietly, “Maybe we could watch a movie...or something?”

What the fuck? Sammy put down his fork. “Matt, what gives? Why are you being so nice?”

Matt froze on the spot. He didn’t turn around. “Um...”

“Are you feeling guilty for something? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll never turn down good food,

but don’t feel like you have to nanny me.” Sammy’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you have something to

actually feel guilty about?”

That did it. Matt turned to face him, blinking in surprise. “No,” he said, with feeling. “It’s not like

that, I just...well, it’s just...”

“Mm?” Sammy urged. “What?”

“Well, look, I...” Matt ran a hand through his short hair. “I think we got off to a bad start, and...and

I want to...start again? Be friends, I mean. I feel sorry that you’re...that it always seems to be you who

takes the brunt of stuff here. What with the dumb waiter, and now breaking your arm and that.”

Sammy snorted, half in surprise, half in sheer amusement. “Yeah, you can say that again.” He let

out a sigh, giving in. He didn’t know what to think any more, and he didn’t have the energy to care.

“Okay, whatever. I’m too tired to argue, luckily for you, Matthew.”

“So...does this mean we’re watching a movie?”

“If you want.” Sammy glanced at him. “I’m choosing, though. I’m not watching any of your boring

Kung Fu movies.”

Matt was clearly trying not to smile. “How about we both choose one? You watch one of mine, I

watch one of yours?”

Huffing, Sammy picked up his fork again. “I’ll think about it. Now and go make my dinner.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Matt said, smiling. Before Sammy could reply, he retreated from the room.

Sammy watched him leave, utterly stunned.

Why was Matt grinning like that? So bizarre. Sammy had seen Matt joking with friends before,

usually those morons Dee and Glen, but never with him. Sammy had always assumed Matt didn’t like

him much.

Hm.

He stared down at his cake, thinking things through. Matt was willing to watch a movie of his

choice? For real? Mentally, Sammy went through his DVD collection. What would appeal to a big,

grumbly man, yet still sneak in a little camp? A comedy? Something with cheerleaders in, perhaps?

Yes, definitely cheerleaders. It would be fun to watch Matt squirm.

Smirking to himself, Sammy put down his cake. He could finish it later. Standing up carefully, he

checked the hall, making sure Matt wasn’t around, then headed for his room. Maybe he would have

that shower, after all.

* * *

Having been closed for three nights, the reopening of the pub proved to be busy. Likely thanks to

the hype caused by that daft newspaper article. Fizz had glanced at the newspaper, but he didn’t want

to read. He’d heard more than enough speculation from the doctors and police. No one could give him

answers and, quite frankly, it all made his head swim.

Better to concentrate on something else.

Fizz hadn’t planned to be sneaky, he really hadn’t. He’d helped out in the bar all afternoon, and

would have continued to help in the evening if he’d had nothing better to do. A grin broke over his

face when he thought of Ash. It just so happened that Fizz did have something better to do.

He had a date.

The bar was busy but with Pete, Ryan, and Ginger behind the bar, they were sure to be fine. Fizz’s

usual panic over doing the right thing, and feeling guilty, just couldn’t permeate his excitement. Was

he being selfish? Maybe a touch. Maybe not at all.

He slipped out from the bar and, making sure no one was around, picked up his hooded sweater that

he’d already placed over the bannisters. Quietly, Fizz opened the side door to the street, and slipped

through without anyone noticing. He wouldn’t be able to get back in this way, not without a key. He’d

have to make sure he was back before closing tonight.

It was dusk, though still light enough for cars not to have their headlights on as they thundered

through the Old Steine. Cradling his hoody under one arm, Fizz hurried away, feeling incredibly

naughty, reckless, and relieved. He got out his phone, texting as he walked. He sent a message to

Ginger, to tell him not to worry, he’d just gone for a walk.

That was partly true, anyway.

Fizz turned off his phone after the message had sent. Hopefully Ginger would understand. As he

reached the end of the footpath, Fizz grinned. Up ahead, across the single lane of traffic that sped up

Church Street, Ash waited for him. He wore skin-tight jeans, the ones Fizz knew had a patch on the

back pocket, and hugged Ash’s figure perfectly. Fizz loved those jeans on him. Ash’s leather jacket

and the skull-print scarf completed the adorable bad boy image, and Fizz’s heart beat double time in

response.

Other things were responding, too. A flush of heat flooded his groin, and Fizz was suddenly so

preoccupied with holding his hoody in front of him to hide his interest, that he almost walked straight

out onto the road. Ash’s frantic waving and wide eyes made Fizz pause. A car shot past, and Ash

looked relieved.

After glancing left and seeing a gap in traffic, Fizz bounded across the road, right up to Ash. He

didn’t quite have the nerve to embrace him, and maybe Ash didn’t either, but they stood close to each

other. Closer than friends would, Fizz thought.

“God, Fizz,” Ash said, breathing a sigh. “Have you never crossed a road before? Look for traffic

first.”

Fizz’s smile grew wider, even as he apologised. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

Ash snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right! Don’t make me hold your hand next time.”

The wink which followed had Fizz smiling so hard he thought his face might break. They walked

down the path together, chatting about nothing and everything. The Pavilion and its gardens were in

full view to their right. Fizz thought to himself that he wouldn’t mind looking inside one day, but right

now his entire focus was Ash.

“How’s your dad?” Fizz asked, broaching the delicate subject. Mr. Singh hadn’t been in a good

mood when Fizz had last seen him at the hospital.