Cold Feet Read Free

to think he just saw him as a convenient opportunity for bi-curious experimentation. Sam meant way too much to Ryan for him to risk their friendship by making things awkward.
    Ryan sighed and tugged his fingers through his hair, restless with nerves. He got up and started exploring the cottage a little more. Some instructions taped onto the wall in the kitchen told him how to put the water heater on, so he did that. Then he poked around in the kitchen cupboards a little, finding a few tins of beans and stew, and some dried packet mixes of pasta and rice that might be useful if they were stuck for food.
    He heard the sound of the front door and went out to greet Sam as he came back in with his hands full of bulging carrier bags.
    “Bloody hell, is it snowing?” Ryan asked.
    Tiny white flakes had caught in Sam’s hair and stood out on the shoulders of his black jacket.
    “Yeah, not much. Just a sprinkle.” His pale cheeks had flushed pink from the cold.
    Ryan followed him through to the kitchen and took a bag to unpack—bread, margarine, some cheese, a dozen eggs, a couple of tins of baked beans, and a box of cornflakes.
    “It was pretty basic, I’m afraid,” Sam said apologetically. “Maybe I should have driven further and found a better supermarket.”
    “This is fine. We’re not gonna starve.”
    Sam had unpacked the all-important beer and some assorted snacks.
    “I got you those extra hot Doritos that you like.” He threw the bag at Ryan, who caught it one-handed.
    “Aw, cheers, mate. You’re so good to me.” Ryan grinned.
    “Don’t you forget it. ”
    “I’m starving already.” Ryan looked at his watch. “Beans on toast?”
    “Sure.”
    They started on the beer while they cooked, and once they had two steaming plates of beans and cheese on toast with scrambled eggs, they took their food and drinks through to the front room.
    “It’s lovely and warm in here now,” Ryan said.
    He sat back on the sofa and kicked off his shoes so he could put his feet up on the coffee table. The warmth from the fire seeped through his socks and into the soles of his feet as he ate. It was bliss.
    After dinner and their second beer each, they were feeling far too lazy to wash up, but Sam cleared their plates away when he went to get a third round of drinks.
    Once the focus of eating had passed, Ryan felt awkward. Normally this was the time they’d be watching TV, or firing up the Xbox for a game, or at least putting some music on. But here only the crackle of the fire and the rustle-thump as a log slipped and settled disturbed the silence. The sofa sagged in the middle, pushing them together, and Ryan was aware of the not-quite-enough space between them. But part of him wanted to make the space go away entirely.
    That thought had him standing abruptly. When Sam looked up in surprise, Ryan made his excuse. “I’m gonna take a leak.”
    Upstairs, as he peed Ryan gritted his teeth and gave himself a stern talking-to. Stop being weird , he told himself. If you keep being jumpy, he’s going to work out something’s wrong .
    When he got back downstairs, he found Sam looking in a low cupboard under the dresser.
    “Hey, I’ve found games and stuff in here,” Sam said. “Want a game of chess?”
    “Sure.” Ryan smiled in relief at the distraction.
    They were back on familiar ground now. Chess was one of the secret geeky things Ryan liked, although he usually pretended not to, and at uni he and Sam sometimes played if they were in the mood for it.
    “Just so you know, though,” Sam deadpanned. “You’re going down.”
    “Oh yeah? In your dreams, boyo. Bring it.”

 
 
    Four games and three hours later, it was two all. Ryan was knackered, and Sam was yawning too, but there was no way anyone was going to concede a draw. So they set the board up again.
    The tension mounted. They leaned in close, their knees touching as they studied the board. It was Sam’s move, and he’d been thinking about it for ages, his