Tommy shivered and gasped. Quarry Lake was nothing like the public baths in Croydon. Bloody hell, how had Tommy forgotten how the cold water caressed every inch of his body, energising him every bit as much as it chilled? You could dive without goggles, no chlorine to burn your eyes. And when you surfaced, you swam up towards the clear sky, swallows flitting high above in their graceful dance.
And more to the point, there was Rob, just over there and definitely due a dunking. Fuck, but he looked good. Face and forearms deeply tanned, damp hair stuck to his forehead. Green eyes echoing the water they were swimming in. Rob smiled, but it wasnít the carefree grin Tommy was craving. The one he remembered. There was something guarded about Robís expression. Something Tommy could only blame himself for.
Screw it, he didnít know how to make this right. Plan A had been to just blurt it all out. Find a natural place to introduce it into the conversation. Oh, and by the way, I am gay after all. And totally single since I broke up with my boyfriend. Wanna crawl up onto those rocks and fuck each otherís brains out?
Tommy snorted. Like there was any way he could say any of that with Rob looking at him like he was little better than a stranger. And besides, that would make it all sound so impersonal. Like Rob was just a convenient body, rather than someone heíd yearned for all these years.
Plan B it was, then. Tommy dived down under the water, striking out for the deeps before flipping round to peer up for a sharkís vision of his prey. There he was, legs kicking powerfully . Rob looked almost too solid to swim. Like he was carved out of marble and should sink to the bottom, but there he was, flesh and blood.
Donít think too hard about flesh and blood.
Tommy stopped fighting the water and let himself rise, aiming for Robís legs. He caught one, wrapped his hands around a pillar of muscle and hairy, goosebumped skin. He yanked down, not far. Just enough to dunk Robís head under the water for a second.
Letting go was tough when every part of him screamed to hold on. But that wouldnít be much of a game, so he kicked away and surfaced a few feet away, just out of reach.
ìBastard!î Rob exclaimed, but this time when he looked Tommyís way his grin was the one he remembered, wide and sunny. ìYouíre in for it now.î
ìCanít catch me. Iíve been training.î Tommy snatched a breath and ducked under the water again.
And this time Rob followed.
Tommy let himself be caught. Robís strong hands closed around his calf. It was almost perfectóif heíd only move his grip higher. Tommy made a token effort at getting away, but he didnít want to. Not when those calloused hands were holding him like that, making him imagine other places they could grasp.
Good thing the water was so bloody freezing.
Author Bio
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. Sheís beginning to suspect he enjoys it.
Joís novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She writes for publishers but has also been known to edit anthologies and self-publish on occasion, although she prefers to leave the ìboring bitsî of the ebook creation process to someone else. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.
Twitter: @JosephineMyles