The Line of Beauty - Alan Hollinghurst [14]
"Quite," said Nick—though bonk was a troublingly casual way of referring to something which preoccupied him so much.
"This dog's been round the block a few times," Leo said, and looked off down the street as if he might spot himself coming home. "Anyway, you looked nice. You've got nice writing."
"Thanks. So have you."
Leo took in the compliment with a nod. "And you can spell," he said.
Nick laughed. "Yes, I'm good at that." He'd been afraid that his own little letter sounded pedantic and virginal, but it seemed he'd got it about right. He didn't remember it calling for any great virtuosity of spelling. "I always have trouble with 'moccasin,'" he said.
"Ah, there you are . . . " said Leo, with a wary chuckle, before changing the subject. "It's nice where you live," he said.
"Oh . . . yes . . ." said Nick, as if he couldn't quite remember where it was.
"I went by there the other day, on the bike. I nearly rang your bell."
"Mm—you, should have. I've had the place virtually to myself." He felt sick at the thought of the missed chance.
"Yeah? I saw this girl going in . . ."
"Oh, that was probably only Catherine."
Leo nodded. "Catherine. She's your sister, yeah?"
"No, I don't have a sister. She's actually the sister of my friend Toby." Nick smiled and stared: "It's not my house."
"Oh . . ." said Leo. "Oh."
"God, I don't come from that sort of background. No, I just live there. It belongs to Toby's parents. I've just got a tiny little room up in the attic." Nick was rather surprised to hear himself throwing his whole fantasy of belonging there out of the window.
Leo looked a bit disappointed. He said, "Right . . . " and shook his head slowly.
"I mean they're very good friends, they're a sort of second family to me, but I probably won't be there for long. It's just to help me out, while I'm getting started at university."
"And I thought I'd got myself a nice little rich boy," Leo said. And perhaps he meant it, Nick couldn't be sure, they were total strangers after all, though a minute before he'd imagined them naked together in the Feddens' emperor-size bed. Was that why his letter did the trick—the address, the Babylonian notepaper?
"Sorry," he said, with a hint of humour. He drank some more of the sweet strong rum and Coke, so obviously not his kind of drink. The refined blue of the dusk sky was already showing its old lonely reach.
Leo laughed. "I'm only kidding you!"
"I know," Nick said, with a little smile, as Leo reached out and squeezed his shoulder, just by his shirt collar, and slowly let go. Nick reacted with his own quick pat at Leo's side. He was absurdly relieved. A charge passed into him through Leo's fingers, and he saw the two of them kissing passionately, in a rush of imagination that was as palpable as this awkward pavement rendezvous.
"Still, your friends must be rich," Leo said.
Nick was careful not to deny this. "Oh, they're rolling in money."
"Yeah . . . " Leo crooned, with a fixed smile; he might have been savouring the fact or condemning it. Nick saw further questions coming, and decided at once he wouldn't tell him about Gerald. The evening demanded enough courage as it was. A Tory MP would shadow their meeting like an unwelcome chaperon, and Leo would get on his bike and leave them to it. He could say something about Rachel's family, perhaps, if an explanation was called for. But in fact Leo emptied his glass and said, "Same again?"
Nick hastily finished his own drink, and said, "Thanks. Or maybe this time I'll have a shot of rum in it."
After half an hour more Nick had slid into a kind of excited trance brought on by his new friend's presence and a feeling, as the sky darkened and the street lamps brightened from pink to gold, that it was going to work out. He felt nervous, slightly breathless, but at the same time buoyant, as if a lonely responsibility had been taken off him. A couple of places came free at the end