Blowing It by Kate Aaron Read Free Book Online Page B

felt the desire to dress in drag or
anything.”
    “I wouldn’t mind,” Magnus said quietly, rearranging
the pint glasses the barman had placed before us. “If that’s what you’re
comfortable with, don’t think you have to hide it from me. I know I’m not
exactly stylish”—he indicated his clothes with a self-depreciating laugh—“but
I’m not as conservative as I look.”
    I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
    “What was that for?” he asked, his expression
bemused.
    “Because.” I looked away to hide just how broad my
smile was. “I think you look wonderful.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER SIX
    The evening flew by. Drinks flowed, songs were sung,
the table next to us ended up unofficially joining our party, then we merged with
the one next, joining forces against those opposite as we got sucked into a
good-natured karaoke sing-off. Elaine talked Ryan into accompanying her for a
terrible rendition of “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights,” then some bastard put
me down for “Love Shack,” and when the emcee wouldn’t let me out of it, I
insisted Ryan join me on the mic. By the time the bell rang for last orders, my
cheeks were aching from laughing, and I was more than a little tipsy.
    “Good luck getting this one home,” Ryan said to Magnus
as we rose to leave.
    “I am not drunk!” I protested. “Seriously.”
I turned to Magnus. “The walk to the tube station will sober me up.”
    “I’m not worried,” Magnus said, holding my jacket
for me to slip on.
    We parted from the others at the corner of the street.
Ryan and Sameer only lived a couple of roads away, and Sameer had offered
Elaine and Mark a lift home. I waved away his invitation to run us to the tube,
the station only being a short walk from the pub. Pulling my jacket around my
waist to ward off the cool night air, I led the way.
    “That was fun,” Magnus said once we were on the
platform, waiting for the last train. We had the station to ourselves, and the
overhead electronic display said the train would be another seven minutes.
    I took a seat on one of the station benches under a
scallop-edged, open-sided shelter. Although part of the tube network, the
station was aboveground. A brisk breeze blew over the uncovered platform,
making me shiver. I perched my arse on the edge of the cold metal so I wouldn’t
get piles. It was probably an old wives’ tale, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
    Magnus stood before me, blocking the worst of the
wind. I smiled up at him.
    “Cold?” he asked.
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “You should have worn a heavier jacket.”
    I feigned outrage. “And ruin this outfit?”
    He laughed easily. “Point taken.”
    The train was as empty as the station. We sat
side-by-side on a long seat near the door, and I settled in for the half-hour
journey to Mile End. Magnus put his arm around my shoulder, and I snuggled into
his side. He was warm and solid, and I inhaled his scent: fabric softener and
shower gel and the same sandalwood cologne he’d worn on our first date.
    Despite the bad start, the evening had gone
wonderfully and, as the train clattered along the tracks, wheezing into
stations with a squeal of brakes and an asthmatic hiss from the automatic
doors, I didn’t want it to end.
    At Mile End we changed to the Central Line. My
station was the next stop, whereas Magnus would need to stay on all the way to
Tottenham Court Road, then change to the Northern Line for Archway, adding an
extra half-hour to his journey. A dull roar in the black distance beyond the
platform heralded the incoming train. I had less than a minute in which to make
a decision.
    The train burst through the tunnel, preceded by a
blast of warm air. I’d always found it funny, the way the Underground seemed to
have its own weather system. There was something dramatic about the way the
trains emerged from the surrounding darkness of the tunnels, the stations existing
as little islands of life and light, making sense of the labyrinth of the