After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,51
change anything with that behaviour.
“Was it Carl?” My voice sounds like I’m gargling marbles.
He shoots me a look as he hands me the tablets. “No,” he says. “Carl was much the same size as me.”
I affect a diffident expression as I take the tablets, but it’s hard. Carl hurt more than anyone else because he lasted a year, and he really loved Felix. It was learning about him that had flung me into a cycle of drinking and fucking. I don’t know why their relationship ended, because I didn’t see much of Felix during that period, but one day Carl was gone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Premature, as it turned out, because Carl had been rapidly replaced by a revolving bedroom door of men.
“It’s too big,” I grumble, setting the glass on the bedside table. “And so rough on your skin. Go in my wardrobe and get my green cashmere jumper. That always fit you.”
He looks at me in amazement. “The one the hotel shrank in the wash? Why the hell do you still have that after all this time?”
Because you used to wear it. And sometimes I imagine that I can still smell you on the wool.
To my gratification, he immediately slips out of the jumper monstrosity, giving me a glimpse of his slender torso. He’s built like a dancer, his long, narrow torso slender, with his ribs showing beneath the silky, pale skin. He’s hairless, apart from the black trail leading downwards from his cute sticky-out belly button, but I know the trail leads down to a dark bush around his cock. My mouth waters and my dick stiffens. I sit up hastily, dragging the blanket over my lap with my good arm.
When he turns from the wardrobe, he’s wearing the jumper, and my memory flashes to the first time he wore it in my hotel room, parading around, striking improbable model poses, and making me laugh. I’d grumbled about laundry ruining it, but I’d been fascinated by how the forest-green colour brought out the gold in his hazel eyes and highlighted previously unseen mahogany streaks in his tumbled mop of hair. With his slender, pale body, he’d seemed like some sort of wood sprite from an ancient forest. He still does, even though those eyes of his are older now and more cynical. I console myself that if my new plan goes to shit, I’ll at least have something that smells strongly of his orange scent.
“Excellent,” he says, looking slightly worried. Probably because I’m gawping at him like he’s Charles the First appearing in my bedroom. “Okay, I’m going,” he announces. “I’ve set the alarm on my phone at intervals so I’ll be in to wake you up to see if you remember your own name.” He laughs. “Shame they didn’t know you in the old days. They’d have known that was a shit test. I well remember seeing you in a club last year, and I’m doubtful you even knew what century it was, let alone what your name is.”
He gives me a casual wave and leaves without a backward glance. The pain that comes from seeing him leave is familiar, and although its edge has grown dull over time, it’s never lessened. I want him to look at me again like he used to. Like he loves me. It’s incredible to me that those loving looks of his used to make me panic. Now I would give everything to see one on his face again.
I lie back on the bed. For once I don’t reach for my book or switch on the TV. Instead, I lie quietly, listening to the noises of Felix as he moves around my house and inhaling the scent of his shampoo on the air. I feel whole again, stupid as that sounds.
This inevitably brings back memories of the time I regained my brain function and realised what I’d been lucky enough to find, only to lose it anyway.
When the doorbell rings, I sigh. No way. I know it’s Zeb and I have zero desire to talk to him. I’ve just settled back on the sofa in my study and pulled the woollen throw around me when there’s a steady rat-a-tat-tat on the door and the sound of Mrs Finch's footsteps.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Finch. How are you?” comes my stepbrother’s voice.
“Ah, as well as can be expected,” comes my housekeeper’s brave words. “Given the fact that Mr Travers is living here now.”
There’s a long pause. “Isn’t this his