‘Ah yes.Fair point.’
Christopher slides the pizzas out of their cardboard boxes, and sees that Nash really wasn’t being hyperbolic about the quality of them.Sometimes, what you really need is just a poorly constructed food that may or may not contain actual cheese.
‘Go on, go sit down.I’ll get these in.’
Nash does as he’s told, and it doesn’t take Christopher long to get the pizzas onto some roughly appropriately sized baking sheets and in the oven.He’s somewhat pleased to see that Nash hasn’t even turned the television on, though obviously he’d already logged out of his streaming apps anyway.
‘So ...isthat a hobby of yours?’Christopher asks, as he settles back onto the couch next to Nash.
‘Riding with sheep?’
‘Dating around.You seem to be ...well, what I mean is the media don’t seem to report on you much.You’re quite private.’
Nash grins with glee and cackles.‘Oh god, is this aSwimfansituation.The fan becomes the obsessive?Or maybeDer Fan?Maybe that’s too much of a deep cut.Perhaps Hitchcock’sVertigo?’
Christopher gets the sense that if he doesn’t interrupt Nash now, he’ll just keep going listing obscure films.‘I really do think you should give up on this line of thought.’
‘I really do think you should give up on this line of thought,’ Nash repeats in what sounds like a vague impression of Queen Elizabeth the Second.
‘Stop that.’
‘I will not.And to answer your question, no, I don’t date much.I mean, I’m not a hermit.I have a life, I see people,’ he says, with a yawn as though the conversation is so nothingy to him that he can barely stay awake for it.
What must that be like, Christopher wonders, to be so casual about whether you’re seeing people.But then again, didn’t he say something weird earlier about beinghurt?He hasn’t learned to read Nash yet, but he’s starting to get the sense that there are two Nashes.The Nash he shows everyone, and the Nash who occasionally appears, like during the conversation about his neurological disorder in the car.
‘The reason you don’t see it in the press is that I’m not that interesting to them, and I make it my job to be that way.I don’t want the intrusion into my life, or the lives of my friends, you know?’
‘That makes sense,’ Christopher says.‘Sorry for googling you, I guess.’
‘Why does that sound so dirty when you say it?’Nash cackles again.
‘It doesnot.’
‘It does!Everything you say sounds kind of smutty in that accent.And I don’t mean my version of it.I mean your proper, silver-spoon accent.’
His mouth goes dry.Nash must just be joking, surely?‘I thought my accent made things sound ridiculous?’
‘Depends what you’re saying, I suppose.’
‘Then what would you want me to say?’
Christopher didn’t even mean to say it but when the words leave his lips, everything changes.He could swear there’s a crackle in the air.
It must just be how tired they are, but then again, this feels new.A different kind of energy from their usual spats.It’s heavier, charged.As if they’re circling something.
Nash’s eyes roam over Christopher’s face.Is he wondering what the hell he’s talking about or is it something else?Is ...is Nash appraising him?Christopher feels as if he’s being examined, and that he might like it.
‘You want me to give you lines?Or are you asking for something else?’Nash asks, his voice deepening.
It has been a while, but Christopher recognises the hungry look in Nash’s eyes.He’s pretty sure it’s written all over his face too.
His eyes flit from Nash’s eyes down to his mouth and Christopher feels his stomach drop.
He could live inside that look.
Time slows down, just for a second, and all Christopher can hear is the beat of their hearts, a drumbeat of tension.
It’s almost automatic and somewhat unconscious, but suddenly they are reaching for each other.
