Philip Collyer vs the Cola Thief Page 2

  When he found himself scrabbling through the bottom of his closet for his old date jeans, he had to stop and remind himself again that this was just two geeky friends enjoying a movie or three.

  He wore the jeans, though, and the blue T-shirt Leon had always said brought out his eyes, and he ran his hand through his dark hair in an attempt to make it look deliberately tousled.

  When the doorbell rang, his hands were shaking as he opened the door.

  "I brought popcorn," Kester said cheerfully, strolling in. "Shit, what happened to your house?"

  Phil glanced around. He was so used to it that he hardly saw the bare walls and joists any more. "I'm renovating. It was pretty much a shell when I bought it."

  "You never said anything."

  Phil shrugged, embarrassed. "It's a pretty dull hobby. The living room's through here. It's one of the few rooms I have finished."

  He lost Kester for a few minutes, as he went to turn on the widescreen TV. When he turned around, Phil found him running his hand along the polished wood of the mantelpiece, his eyes thoughtful. "You did all this?"

  "Yeah. I mean, it lets me afford a house, even in this economy. I got some help with the electricity and plumbing, and I'm just doing the rest bit by bit. I've always been good with my hands."

  Kester grinned suddenly, but then the familiar haunting tune slid out around them and he made for the sofa instead. "Surround sound? Sweet."

  It was easy after that. They stopped for lunch after the first movie, jostling each other in Phil's tiny kitchen as they quickly made sandwiches and argued movie versus book. Kester seemed to be in a good mood, more energized than he was at work, and Phil enjoyed every moment of it, from wrestling over the ketchup bottle to the way Kester moved him away from the worktop, his hands warm on Phil's hips.

  They watched the second movie in an easy sprawl, the bowl of popcorn wedged between them. It was dark by the time the Ents marched to Isengard, and they were both bleary-eyed when the credits rolled. They stopped for half an hour to turn the lights back on and order takeout. Kester talked about New Zealand, the summer he'd spent with cousins who lived near Wellington when he was fifteen, and Phil, who had never fallen victim to wanderlust before, found himself saying, "I'd like to go there."

  "We should do that," Kester said, and grinned at him. "Now, the ethical way to do it is to avoid flying and just work our passage on a freighter."

  "No!" Phil said forcefully, and only then realized he was being laughed at.

  Kester grinned. "Ten years ago, I would have done it without second thoughts."

  "Ten years ago I wore eyeliner and a net shirt to work," Phil pointed out. "Things change." Then, at the look on Kester's face, he elaborated, "I was a bartender."

  "I know," Kester murmured, but the doorbell rang and Phil went to get their food, wondering when he'd told Kester that.

  Spooning the stir-fry and rice onto plates reminded Phil of his new plan to foil the cola thief, and he shared it with Kester, who promptly spluttered.

  "I thought you weren't going down the kitty litter route!"

  "I'm not," Phil said. "If it's an actual foodstuff, I'm on safe legal ground. Well, according to the Internet."

  "Because there's no way that can go wrong," Kester pointed out and grabbed the plates to take back to the sofa.

  Once they'd eaten and piled the plates on the floor, Phil had no hesitation in leaning back comfortably, even if it did mean knocking shoulders with Kester. After a day on the same sofa, he'd lost all self-consciousness. By now he was so caught up in the film that he leaned forward when the Rohirrim horns first sounded, not even realizing he was clutching Kester's knee. It wasn't until the charge ended that he noticed what he was doing and whispered, "Sorry."

  "Shh," Kester hissed urgently, covering Phil's hand with his own.

  The faint sense of embarrassment lingered, though, at least until Phil glanced over and saw that Kester was mouthing the lines along with the characters.

  When the final credits rolled, neither of them moved, though Kester slid down a little farther against the back of the sofa and sighed. "Fucking love those films."

  "Yeah," Phil agreed and then roused himself. "Shit, it's late."

  Kester rolled to his feet with a groan, finally releasing Phil's hand. "I should head home."

  Phil walked with him to his car, reluctant to let him go. "Thanks for this. It was a good day. I hope it wasn't too dull."

  Kester blinked at him. "You're kidding. That was awesome." Then he paused and added, sounding bewildered, "You still don't get it at all, do you?"

  "Get what?" Phil asked.

  And Kester kissed him, the sweetest, most unexpected kiss Phil had ever had, pressed very softly against his lips.

  He froze up, and when Kester pulled away, he was still so dazed he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

  "Er…," Kester said, and in the dim light from the porch, Phil thought he might be blushing. "I'll, um, see you on Monday."

  "Monday," Phil echoed and stayed standing there as Kester got into his car and drove away. It wasn't until the lights faded around the corner that he managed to pull himself together enough to go back inside.

  ON Monday, he was still smiling manically at perfect strangers, and he couldn't help whistling as he walked into the staff kitchen with a bottle of cola. Today he labelled it This is not the cola you're looking for, because he was in that kind of mood.

  "Don't you think switching to bottles might tip him off?" Kester asked from behind him.

  "This one's for real," Phil explained. "I'm lulling him into a false sense of security. Come Friday, I'll unleash the soy sauce."

  He turned around in time to catch Kester's smile, fond and indulgent, and couldn't look away from his mouth. He needed to say something, though, because he'd fallen down badly before, so he cleared his throat and said, "So, um, Saturday. That was great, really great. We should do that again."

  "Yeah?" Kester said, and he was definitely blushing now, his cheeks pink. "Tonight?"

  Phil wanted to say yes and almost did, but…. "I can't. I'm going over to my sister's." He held a hand up to explain, because that sounded weak. "She's pregnant, her husband's stationed in Afghanistan, and he won't get leave until the baby arrives."

  "Is she okay?"

  "Sick and miserable, but nothing worse. Tomorrow though?"

  "That would be good," Kester said, wetting his lips, and Phil wanted to kiss him so much he was halfway across the room before the sound of approaching voices stopped him in his tracks. He contented himself with squeezing Kester's arm quickly and then fled, his palms tingling just from that touch.

  He floated through the morning, and wasn't even that perturbed at lunchtime by the empty bottle and the note that said, Sorry, I felt a great disturbance in the Force and needed something to give me strength. You weren't there to lean on, so I took your drink. XX

  Then, mid-afternoon, one of their suppliers announced they were going into receivership and the week went to hell. Phil didn't even have time to leave a note on Tuesday's bottle, because the phones were already ringing off the hook when he made it in at seven thirty, and every cup of coffee he made went cold before he could drink it.

  That day's pink Post-it note read, Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line. You've been awesome today. XX

  "I don't get that one," Phil said aloud, obscurely disappointed.

  Kester, who had turned up on schedule, plucked it out of his hand. "It's The Princess Bride."

  "Never seen it."

  Kester looked appalled. "Seriously? Now I know what we're doing tonight."

  Phil had almost forgotten their date in the mayhem, but his spirits lifted. "What time do you want me?"

  "That's a loaded question," Kester murmured, edging closer. "How about seven? I'll e-mail you the address." He started to lean in, and Phil moved to meet him.

  "Phil!" Sharleen bellowed. "Head office, line one!"

  He was so busy for the r
est of the day that he lost track of time. He took a moment to check that Kim was okay after he spotted her running for the loo for the sixth time in an hour.

  "When they call it morning sickness, they're lying," she said, with a grimace. "Mine just keeps going all day."

  "Take off early," he told her. "Redirect your calls to me and I'll cover."

  "Phil, it's crazy today."

  "And I don't want to see you getting sick because of it. There are more important things than work in the world."

  "Don't let HR hear you say that," she advised, but left anyway.

  It was well into the evening by the time the phones went quiet. Phil, who liked the peace, finally got a chance to start on all the other work on today's to-do list. Before long, he'd completely lost track of time.

  He was roused by a soft knock on his office door and looked up to see Kester standing there, looking worried.

  "It's seven thirty," he said, his voice a little tentative.

  Phil inhaled in horror. All these years of yearning and he'd blown it this fast. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I completely lost track of time." He shot to his feet, pushing piles across his desk in a frantic search for his keys. "You're right to be angry. I'm useless."

  Kester's hands closed over his shoulders, warm and firm. "I'm not angry."

  "I didn't mean to forget. I just needed to get everything sorted out so people can cope tomorrow. I shouldn't have—"

  He was cut off by Kester's mouth, fitting gently against his as Kester pulled him close. For the first few moments, he kept trying to apologize, but then Kester's tongue slid between his lips and he couldn't do anything but sink into the kiss. It sent shivers down his spine, made his knees weak and his head spin, until he felt like he was floating away.

  Then Kester shifted slightly, his knee slid against Phil's, and Phil belatedly realized that he was hard and that Kester's thigh was now pressing firmly against his cock, and he did want to stop kissing because then they could get out of here and go somewhere that wasn't entirely surrounded by glass windows.

  He pulled back, but he couldn't bring himself to let go, so he just rested his cheek against the side of Kester's head and breathed in.

  "Your ex really was a complete bastard, wasn't he?" Kester observed.

  Phil tensed. "It wasn't all his fault. He was frustrated that I'd changed. I used to be fun."

  "You haven't changed," Kester said firmly. "You were always the kindest person I knew." Phil leaned back to look at him, startled, and Kester continued, not meeting his eyes. "You, er, probably don't remember me, but I was a floor up from you in Hickman Hall. I was a year behind you, we had different majors, and the dreads were green then, so, yeah."

  Phil did remember now. Leon had called the kid Elfboy, and they'd had their first fight about it, one he'd thought was about cruel nicknames but was actually about how Leon didn't like him ogling cute young hippies. He bit that memory back, though, and said, "You harangued the college authorities until they installed recycling bins. I went to the sit-in in the admin building."

  "And you brought your friends. I appreciated that," Kester told him, mouth curling up ruefully. "You should have seen the room I got assigned the next year, though. First floor on dumpster alley."

  Phil couldn't help laughing a little. "I didn't think they actually used those rooms."

  "They didn't. I had the corridor to myself and threw a lot of parties. Happy days."

  "Yeah," Phil agreed, shaking his head a little. It seemed so long ago.

  Kester leaned in to murmur, "I had such a crush on you."

  Phil shivered at the brush of lips against his ear, and stammered, "Me? Why?"

  "You were such a nice guy," Kester breathed, nuzzling more kisses against the side of his neck. "I remember you from my very first week, looking out for us. And, hell, I'd barely peered out of the closet, and there you were, out and gorgeous and perfectly comfortable in your skin. Of course I had a crush."

  It wasn't just tiredness and sweet kisses that were making him feel so giddy. Phil could feel a slow flush of happiness rising through him. How had he missed this?

  "First day I got here, when I came over to fix that broken monitor, there you were, all flustered and grateful. It felt like a second chance."

  "I had no idea," Phil managed.

  "Now you do. So, dinner and a movie."

  Phil disentangled himself slightly to stare at his desk in dismay. "Er, this stuff…."

  "Anything that really can't wait until tomorrow?"

  "I don't know," Phil muttered, shaking his head and trying to gather his scattered thoughts. "I can see the light at the end of the tunnel."

  "Leave it. Tomorrow's another day."

  So he let Kester shuffle him out of the building, closing the office behind them as they went, and then they drove away through the lashing rain. Kester's small apartment was close to the office, at the top of an ugly complex, and from his windows Phil could see the city undulating over the hills, its lights blurred by the rain on the glass.

  He sat at Kester's kitchen table while Kester cooked, trying and failing to help several times, until he was pushed down onto his chair with a kiss and a glass of wine and told to stay put. He wasn't even sure what the food was, but it was aromatic and hot and tasted good, and they talked easily, about college and life since, movies, sports, and other easy things.

  Then Kester put on his movie, and this time there was no awkwardness about where they would sit. Phil leaned back against Kester happily, relaxed a little more…… And promptly fell asleep.

  He woke up an hour later, a cushion under his cheek and a sheet thrown over him, and was mortified. The living room was dark, but he followed the sound of quiet music into a small study, where he found Kester focusing intently on a computer screen. He didn't notice Phil, so he lingered to appreciate the man before him: his handsome face and slim body, the strong line of his shoulders, and his quick hands. He wanted those hands on him, as soon and as often as possible.

  Then Kester looked up and smiled at him, and the embarrassment came flooding back. "I'm so sorry."

  "Lucky I know what kind of week you're having," Kester joked. "Feeling better?"

  "Yeah," Phil said, some of the tension easing from his shoulders, and he crossed the room to lean against the back of Kester's chair. "I'm sorry I missed the movie."

  "We can watch it another time," Kester said, lifting his face, and Phil smiled. He hadn't blown it, then. He leaned down to meet Kester's mouth, sinking into the kiss softly. He lingered for a long, delicious moment and then failed to bite back a yawn.

  Kester collapsed into laughter, and Phil groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "Oh God. Sorry."

  "Don't apologize." Kester chuckled, pulling his hands down. "You look shattered."

  "This is why I need my caffeine," Phil grumbled, but he didn't resist when Kester stole another kiss. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm next to useless. Rain check?"

  Kester sighed. "Sure, as long as I can keep coming over to steal coffee. You okay to drive home?"

  "I should be."

  "You're welcome to stay." He added hurriedly, "Not for sex, not unless you want…. You can just sleep."

  "That's good of you," Phil said, suddenly nervous again. He wasn't creating the best impression.

  "Not because I don't want you," Kester elaborated, leaning forward fiercely. "But I want to give this a proper chance, so I won't rush. There are some things you have to take your time over."

  "Then I should definitely go," Phil admitted, flustered. "If I stay after that, there's no way I'll just be sleeping."

  Kester blushed, and he was still blushing when Phil finally made it out the front door and back into the rain.

  HE went through the rest of the week in a quiet daze. It made him startlingly efficient, perhaps because there wasn't any space left in his mind for anything except work and Kester. He still missed his lunchtime cola, but he had learned to expect the silly notes. By Friday, he almost forgo
t to mix up the soy sauce and lemonade into an empty cola bottle.

  A plan once concocted, however, had to be completed, and he placed it carefully in the fridge and tried not to grin too evilly as he strolled back to his desk.

  He spent all morning waiting for a shriek of disgust to reveal the culprit. He didn't hear anything, and by lunchtime he was wondering if the villain had been too busy to get to the fridge. When he peered inside, aware that the usual audience was gathering, the bottle was the first thing he saw.

  Then he looked again, and noticed the shiny label.

  Someone had replaced his fake cola with a brand-new bottle.

  He took it out with a grimace, plucked off the note. and read Mmm, tasty. Try this instead.

  "Is that…?" Lisa breathed.

  "Diet," Phil said flatly, lifting it up for her to see. "And decaf."

  "Dude just declared war," Gareth breathed.

  SATURDAY morning found him and Kester at the end of Phil's yard, in the pile of rubble that had once been a tool shed, with six different-sized bottles of cola perched on the debris.

  "What's the new plan, then?" Kester asked, looking dubious.

  "Time to build a trap."

  Kester looked alarmed. "Please don't get arrested. I don't want to have to visit you in prison."

  Phil rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of trap."

  "What kind are we talking about, then?"

  Phil held up his hand, revealing his secret weapon. "Cola thief, meet Mentos."

  A slow grin spread across Kester's face. "I've always wanted to try this."

  "The trick is going to be getting the time delay to work," Phil said, rolling up his sleeves happily. It was a bright autumn day, the air crisp with a last touch of frost lingering in the shade. "So, first we need to work out the standard reaction time." At Kester's amused glance, he added sheepishly, "Engineering major, remember?"

  "Which explains why you're so good with your hands."

  Phil knew Kester was only saying that to make him blush, which it did, but he couldn't help smiling across the rubble at him. He smiled every time he saw Kester now, because just the thought of him warmed him from the inside out. He knew he was wearing his heart on his sleeve (Lisa and Danielle had taken to meeting each other's eyes and giggling every time Kester wandered in), but he couldn't stop himself. With anyone else, he would have been looking for the catch, but this was the sort of miracle only a fool questioned. Phil wanted to enjoy every moment of it and do everything in his power to make it last.