Callum couldn't even hear himself say it, but the brunette, whose name he could not remember, smiled and nodded. He felt a tad guilty about lying; she obviously thought he'd be back. Above the heads of the crowd, he saw the living room doorway. He was out of there.

            It wasn't that he didn't like parties; the opposite was most certainly the case. But being wedged between a hyperactive speaker and an over talkative, over keen female wasn't exactly fun. The problem wasn't the brunette, clutching his arm, staring up at him, eagerly chatting away. He couldn't hear her above The Chemical Brothers anyway. The room, the whole house, was throbbing along to ‘Loops of Fury'. No, problem was Callum was feeling a bit overwhelmed - the sheer number of bodies, the loud music, the dark, stuffy room.

            "Don't be too long!" she said, giggling.

 At least, that's what he thought she said. Pushing his way through, he extracted himself from the room into a crowded, squashy hallway. Over loaded with the rankness of sweaty bodies and smoke, his lungs demanded fresh air. Making for the kitchen, he exited by the back door.

            Bloody wonderful.

 Hit in the face by the fresh, cool night, Callum stopped. It felt like being drenched in ice cold water. Taking a huge lungful of London's autumn evening air, he found himself a patch of grass and sat down. Scanning the tiny garden, he spotted his older brother. Patrick was sitting over on the old, worn patio table. Next to a rather wonderful looking guy, who Callum couldn't help but notice. Talking away to Patrick, beer bottle in his hand. The guy's white tee shirt was snug, but not tight, over the subtle muscles of his arms and chest. Shirt gave way to jeans and DM boots, resting on the seat, tapping along with the music audible from inside the house.

            Callum watched him, absorbed by his fingers as they raked through his hair which fell across his eyes. Fascinated as the guy threw back his head when he laughed, knocking his leg against Patrick's.

            Mark.

 The thought suddenly entered his mind. But it'd been ages. And, anyway, that was different.

            He had to meet the guy. His brother could introduce them. Subtly of course, so that it wasn't obvious. Picking himself up off the lawn, he tidied himself up a bit, brushing stray grass from his faded jeans, flicking back his long, floppy black fringe. Important to make a good first impression. As he began making his way over to them, he felt slightly nervous. Only natural really, everyone feels nervous when they meet someone they fancy.

            "Heyyy...Callum, me friend, me p..pal..."

 But he needn't have been nervous. He wasn't going to make it over to his brother and the guy. Sodden with beer, Damon had clamped his arm round his shoulders, stopping him halfway across the yard.

            "Call...Callum, me besht mate." Slurring his words, dragging them out. "Yer kn...know I love yer Cal."

 Suddenly lurching forward, Damon doubled over and proceeded to throw up onto the lawn, missing Callum's Vans by inches.

            Bloody hell.

            "Course you do Damon. Come on, up ya get, you'll be right."

 Hauling him back upright, he leaned Damon's slight frame against the washing line post. He'd be taking him home again in the morning. Beer, and sick, were obvious on his breath. Considering the size of him, it was surprising how much alcohol Damon could put away. And how heavy his body felt, as Callum vainly tried to keep him upright.

            "Hey, come on, don't pass out on me.."

Eyelids drooping, body beginning to slide down the post.

            "Oh, bloody hell!...shit, Damon!"

 It was hopeless. Even with his strength, he couldn't hold Damon up. Passing out, his best friend collapsed onto the lawn.

            "Great, cheers, thanks a lot."

            "Need a hand?"

 Patrick appeared next to him, beer in hand, pointing his foot at the heap that was Damon.

            "Nah, just leave him 'ere."

 Raising his eyebrow questioningly, Patrick looked over at his younger brother.

            "I'm gettin' sick of lookin' after him, Patrick." he said, turning Damon over onto his side, in case he threw up again. "He'll be right. Let him sleep it off."

            The guy!

 Callum, suddenly remembering, straightened up and looked over to the patio table. He was gone.

            Damn!

 Pulling his hair out of his eyes, he desperately looked around the yard, skimming over neglected outdoor furniture and the garden shed concealed under rampant ivy. But he couldn't find him.

            "Shit!"

Mid-swig, his brother looked over, slightly puzzled.

            "Callum, somethin' wrong?"

            "No. Nothing."

            Damn!

                                                       *

            It'd been just him and Patrick at breakfast. Their dad had left early for his overnight golf trip. Well, early being relative considering how he and Patrick had finally manage to haul themselves out of bed and downstairs at about 11am. For a late autumn Saturday morning, there was strong sunshine pouring in through the kitchen window as they ate breakfast. Scraping marmalade across his burnt toast – malfunctioning toaster - Callum had decided to inquire about the guy. He kept seeing him, smiling, laughing. Couldn’t shake him from his mind.

            "That guy you were talkin to last night," he asked his brother, "y'know, before Damon passed out, before you came over."  

            "Yeah." Patrick'd nodded. "More toast?"

            "No, thanks.” Callum shook his head, pushing his plate away. “Who is he?"

 Turning his head from the toaster where he was keeping an eye on his third round, Patrick looked over at his younger brother.

            "The guy?” Patrick rescued his toast, joining Callum at the table. ”Josh Franks. Works in the gym opposite the station. Eyes lit up when us firefighters come in! You like him?”

            “I might.”

Patrick smiled, dropping his toast onto a plate. “Well, I hope so ‘cause I've invited him to the party.”

            Tonight! He’d see him again. Callum silently thanked whatever force kept the universe moving for his wonderful, thoughtful brother!

            But then he realised. Damon.

            “Shit,” he cursed.

            “Well, that wasn’t the reaction that I was expecting!” laughed his brother, half eaten toast midway to his mouth.

            Callum stared down at his plate, toast remains going cold. Damn it. As best friends go, Damon was cool. Would rather be partying then studying – “What  A-levels?” was his unofficial motto. Well, he was cool apart from the getting pissed. And the being totally unaware that Callum was gay.

            “Callum?”

Patrick was looking at him. A frown crossed his face when his younger brother didn’t respond.  “What is it?”

            “Damon.”

One word was enough to explain.

            "You still haven't told him." More of a reproachful statement than a question.

  Breathing out slowly, Callum tried to remain calm. They'd done this before, several times. And he didn’t want t go through it again – it always ended the same way.

            "No, I haven't,” said Callum, “and, no, I'm not gonna talk about it."

            “Well, if you’re happy with that…”

            “I’ll have to be.” He cut Patrick short. His brother was like a dog with a bone over the whole thing. “I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

 Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed his himself away from the table. Crashing his plate into the sink. And this was how it always ended. The silence. As much as he knew Patrick was right, Callum couldn’t bring himself to tell Damon. What his brother and dad couldn’t get was why he hadn’t told Damon. And that’s what worried him too.

            Why couldn’t he bring himself to tell his best friend he was gay?

*

            Oh, shit. Calm down, will ya'!

  Steadying himself, gripping the kitchen bench for support, Callum willed his heart to slow down. The knock at their front door'd made him jump, his heart suddenly taking off. It had to be Josh. Almost everyone else was there. The music was up, the drinks were being consumed. And Callum had been waiting.

            Leaning towards the open kitchen door, making sure he couldn't be seen, Callum fixed on the voices at the front door. Patrick's voice and one he didn’t know..

            "...hey there, Josh..."

            Shit, it's him!

            "..thanks... yeah, luv a drink..." 

His voice was clearer, and getting closer.

            Shit! They're coming in here!

 Callum dashed over to the fridge. He had to look occupied, like he wasn't waiting.

            "Hey, Callum, get us a couple while y'there."

  Holding the fridge door open, he stared intently in.

            Not yet. Hang on.

  Trying to keep his eyes from looking over at Josh, very aware that he was there.

            "Holsten do?" he asked.

            Ok, just keep cool. Stay calm.

 His hand shook as he gripped the handle harder.

            "Yeah, thanks."

 Grabbing the three nearest bottles, he closed the door slowly, then turned from the fridge.

            Oh boy!

 Startled and excited, his body suddenly electrified, his heart almost leaping out of him. Josh was leaning on the bench, looking at him. Seeing him up close, Callum was caught off guard. And up close, he was very nice.

            Handing his brother two of the Holsten Pils bottles, he watched Josh. Holding his hand out as Patrick passed him a bottle, he raked his hair back off his face.

            "Cheers Patrick."

 Callum shivered. Then Josh was looking back over at him, a light, curious smile on his lips.

            Oh shit.

            "Oh, Josh, this is Callum. Callum, Josh." Patrick coolly made the introductions, as if it was all so innocent. He rummaged in the second drawer down for the bottle opener.

            "So you're his little brother."

 Patrick'd talked about him to Josh, he must have. The thought was very pleasing. Had Josh asked? Did it mean he was interested?       

            "Little brother? Cheers, thanks a lot Patrick," he said.

            "Shit it, opener's gone. The others've probably got it. Back in sec," said his brother, heading out of the kitchen, calling to the others in the living room, "Hey guys! Where's the opener?"

            Watching his brother depart, he avoided looking at Josh. Trying to compose himself. Being, finally, up so close was making him a tad nervous. He had to make the right impression. Breathing deeply, he turned back to Josh, who was studying him, curious smile still on his lips. His heart turned itself over. But he wasn't put off by Josh taking him in. Callum was doing exactly the same. 

            The black tee hugged Josh's shoulders as he leaned forward on his elbows. His hair was the colour of chocolate, like real, dark, bittersweet chocolate. Cut a little longer on top. Running his hand through it, pulling it back, Josh revealed his intense, dark green eyes.

            "Nice to meet you," Josh said, holding out his hand, straightening up his body.

 And Callum was looking straight into his incredible eyes; they were exactly the same height. A shiver went streaking through him again when Josh spoke.

            "Nice to meet you too," he replied, taking his hand.

 Wrapping around his hand, Josh's felt smooth and warm. Very aware of his touch, fingertips pressing against his wrist, Callum's body reacted, excited but nervous. They continued to hold hands across the bench, looking at each other.

            He knows. Callum couldn’t stop staring into Josh’s amazing eyes. He knows.

Smiling at him, a very charming, and sexy, smile, Josh gently let his hand go. Fingers sliding lightly across Callum's palm. Which only made his heart beat faster.

            "Got it!"

  Suddenly startled by Patrick's voice, Callum jumped. His beer bottle clattering over on the bench.

            “Oh sorry! Didn’t mean to give you a fright, mate!” said Patrick, grinning widely, slapping his brother on the back, “didn’t interrupt anything did I?!”

            “Patrick!” muttered Callum, urgently, under his breath

Feeling like he wanted the floor to swallow him right there and then, Callum looked daggers at Patrick.  God, his brother could be such a pain in the arse sometimes.

            “What?!” replied Patrick, still grinning, “I didn’t mean anything...hey..!”

Grabbing the opener from his brother, Callum quickly took the top off his bottle. Panicking when it wouldn’t come off cleanly first time. Hands shaking. He just wanted to get away. Avoiding Josh’s eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen. To find somewhere quiet to die of embarrassment. 

                                                       *