Matt gave a weak smile. "What, to babysit?"
"Yep. I'll tell him he's to tuck you in bed nice and tight and read you a bedtime story." I frowned. "And not a dirty one, either."
"Spoil all my fun, you do."
"Maybe I'll-" I coughed. Now was not a good time to blurt out how much I'd like to tell him some dirty stories of my own. "I'll give Adam a call," I finished.
As I grabbed the phone, it occurred to me that Adam did, after all, have a life and might not actually be sitting at home waiting for my call. Luckily for me, it seemed Wednesdays were his life's night off. He picked up his phone with an "Uh-huh?" and declared himself willing to come over and Matt-sit with his usual economy of syllables.
When I opened the door to him half an hour later, I felt an odd pang in my chest. It was almost like regret-no, scratch that; it was regret. I might be doing the right thing here, but, well, for a moment I almost wished things had been different. That I'd been able to feel for Adam what I felt for Matt.
Hearts. Who'd have one? "Come in, Adam," I said, half expecting to be grabbed and forcibly snogged, and perversely disappointed when no predatory lips came my way.
"All right?" he said, holding up a six-pack of lager. "'S for Matt."
"I hope you're not planning to get him drunk and have your wicked way with him," I said, and immediately wished I'd engaged brain before opening mouth. The last thing I wanted to do was put ideas like that into Adam's head. Particularly as I was about to split up with him.
Fortunately, Adam laughed. "What, me'n'Matt? Nah. We're just mates."
The hallway only seemed half so big with Adam taking up space in it, and when Matt appeared to say hello to his friend, there was barely room to swing a cat.
Of course, any attempt to swing Wolverine was likely to prove fatal to the person doing the swinging, so that was probably just as well.
"Adam, can I have a quick word? Sorry, Matt," I added, feeling awkward.
I led Adam into the kitchen and shut the door. He looked around a little nervously, for Adam. "Where's y'r cat?"
"Wolverine? Oh, he's out at the moment. Don't worry-if you keep the kitchen door shut after I've gone, even if he comes in he won't be able to bother you." Or, as it might be, rend poor Adam limb from limb.
Adam looked relieved that blood transfusions weren't, after all, in his immediate future. I breathed a silent prayer that Wolverine wouldn't take it into his furry head to come back in the house in the next five minutes. "Look," I began awkwardly. "I … I don't know how to say this, but … "
Adam's freckled face creased into a smile. "'S all right."
"You don't know what I'm going to say."
Adam shrugged, still smiling. "I seen the way you look at Matt. 'S all right. Seen th' way he looks at you, 'n' all." He loped over and hugged me with those ape-like arms. "Good luck."
"I … Thanks," I said, stunned-and if I was brutally honest with myself, just a tiny bit hurt. Obviously, I hadn't wanted Adam to be devastated, but he seemed to have found it remarkably easy, breaking up with me. I shook my head. Get over yourself, Knight.
Adam was standing there, looking at me with a shrewd eye. I gave a rueful smile, and hugged him back with genuine affection. "You're a great guy, Adam. Thanks for everything. And I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"No, y're not," he contradicted me good-naturedly. "G'won. Get on out of 'ere."
****
I'd had it all rationalised; how it'd be good for me to go and train. Get the aggression out of my system.
I'd been lying to myself. The real reason I'd gone, I realised as I bowed my way into the dojo, was so I could find an excuse to beat the crap out of Steve Bloody Prick-tard. He was there as usual, just chatting away with the other brown belts as if nothing had happened, as if Matt didn't even now still bear the marks of his violence. Time seemed to slow. It'd be so easy to just stride over there, grab him by the front of his gi and punch that vicious, cowardly face into a bloody pulp.
My hands were curling into fists, and I actually took a step forward-then Sensei came toward me with a friendly smile, breaking the spell. I forced myself to calm down and return his greeting.
Training didn't work its usual magic, though. Even after the warmup, after basics, I was still tense. All the time I was watching the guy out front demonstrating the moves, at least half my attention was on Prick-tard, three men down the line from me. And God, he knew it. Every time my eyes flicked his way, he was glaring at me. When we went on to sparring, I couldn't tell you who made the first move, but we marched straight up to one another.