I fumbled with the lock and finally forced the door to my flat open. I threw my bag on the floor next to a pair of Docs and laid my stack of records down next to them. I beckoned Mick in with a wave of my hand, and he shuffled in, kicking the door shut behind him. I lead him through to the living room (ie a dirty leather sofa and tiny TV on a chest of drawers) and told him to put his things down.
I flopped down on the manky couch as Mick laid his suitcase in front of the couch and sat on the floor next to it.
"Hey, sit with me," I said, patting the spot next to me on the sofa. A cloud of dust puffed out from the seams.
"Mmm, looks delightful!" he laughed, springing up and plonking himself down next to me. I pulled my knees up to my chin and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He got cuter every time I looked at him.
"God I'm tired," he muttered with a yawn.
"Why not you lie down?" I suggested. He swivelled round so his head was at the other end of the couch and laid his legs over my lap. I pulled my arms out from under his ankles, feeling the hair on his legs brush against my hands as I did so. He turned his head so he was looking out the window away from me.
"I should probably use your phone now," he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.
"When's the gig?"
He lifted his head off the arm of the couch. "Uh...It's like, um...9:00?" he yawned again, flopping his head back down as soon as he got the words out.
"Then we've got hours. You take a wee nap here and I'll get us a drink," I said, walking over to my makeshift kitchen consisting of a kettle, toaster and tiny cupboard.
"Coffee?"
"Sure. Thanks" he was so sleepy I could have asked if he wanted milk and coke and he probably still would've said yes.
Once I'd made the coffee I came and put his mug on the floor next to the couch and lifted up his legs to sit back down.
"Oi, come sit up here, I need a pillow," he said sleepily.
"You want to put your head on my crotch?" I laughed, thinking he was joking. He sat up and looked at me, his eyes now wide. He laughed, "I didn't mean it like that!" He stopped and looked at me with these big puppy dog eyes.
"Please?"
So here I was, with some random guy I'd bumped into at a train station, letting him rest his head on my lap. I didn't complain. After a few minutes he was sound asleep, and I looked down at his face. He had dark stubble around his jaw and had his mouth open so I could see his cute squint teeth. And I don't know why I did it, or what I was thinking, but all of a sudden I was twiddling a lock or his curly dark hair round my finger. He didn't even flinch.
I really like this boy, I thought to myself. It felt wrong, and I hardly knew him, but I thought it all the same. I really fuckin like this boy.
I started to run my fingers through his soft locks, looking fondly at his face as he slept.
