Rupert was mad at himself that he hadn't trusted Soren. He felt like such an idiot meeting Soren's family like that so early in the morning. It wasn't suppose to happen that way. Actually, he wasn't sure how it was suppose to happen. He couldn't phantom anyone giving them some sort of party. That would be just silly. Even if his entire job was more of a party than anything else. Only, he seldom saw that party. Just behind the scenes making everything seem quite seamless and fun and well, maybe even thrilling to some. But it was tiring just the same, yet he couldn't wait to find Soren. Rupert suspected he'd still be at the Black Cat. Only he wasn't.
"He left around eight." The manager told him since Soren had been at work since eight. "He's our chef, you know."
"A chef?" This was news to Rupert. Could they possibly be talking about the same bloke? Well, he couldn't get Soren on his cell. He guessed he'd have to try him at home again. But as soon as he got there, envy wrapped around him once again. Who was the first person he'd meet as soon as he was greeted. That lousy footballer from the Black Cat who'd been hanging around Soren so much as of late. What was that suppose to mean?
"Where's Soren?" Rupert asked his cousin.
"His room, I guess." Sebastian shrugged. As it was the footballer was having a brandy with some old gentleman. Was he waiting for Soren? "You remember which one, don't you?" Sebastian gave him a sly grin as if maybe this might be Rupert's home away from home. So he went down the hallway of the main floor and found his room just as he remembered.
He knocked. But nothing. He banged on the door then. Waiting. Waiting what seemed forever. Finally someone stirred.
"Its you." Soren looked at him so sleepily. He was in his undershirt and pants, smelling of onion and spices. With a sigh he let Rupert in. "Did we have plans I forgot about?"
"No, I just thought, you know." Rupert wasn't sure how to explain it. He looked Soren over then. "Are you going out with that footballer?"
"Footballer?" Soren winced. "No." Soren smiled. "I doubt Quentin played football. Possibly, he took pictures of them, but Quentin's not a footballer."
"How do you know?" Rupert huffed.
"You're jealous." Soren choked a laugh then as he took Rupert's hand. "You're cute when you're jealous."
"What's he doing here?" Rupert fretted.
"Why, I think he's taken a liken' to my uncle." Soren's smiled.
"That old man?" Rupert squinted at the thought.
"That bother's you too." Soren chuckled. "Look, I told Quentin about you, he knows he hasn't a chance with me. Seems he just broke up with someone he almost married. Possibly, he's still in love with the bloke, but whatever, he's lonely. So is my uncle."
"I was taking a nap." Soren explained.
"So I'd be refreshed for later." There was a certain spark in Soren's eyes.
"Later for what?" Rupert looked at him as Soren pushed him out of his jacket.
"For you, you arse." He touched his cheek then. "Well, come along then." He pulled Rupert's T over his head.
"You want to shower, don't you?" Soren edge up a smile from the corner of his lips. A chill came over Rupert. He wasn't sure what to say, but he supposed this was it. Really, it. This is what you did when you slept over.
Day 18 -nanowrimo
2 days ago