No going back - 5. Colin 2

Colin had decided he'd had enough. Miles had been going on at him, again, for not coming over for the twins' birthday and saying how Colin needed to make sure he visited them to see the girls. Colin had duly sent a birthday present, via his Mum, but there'd been no thank you. But if he'd missed sending it, Miles would have been quick to point out the slight. Last Sunday, he'd taken some paperwork to his Mum's and rather than being sympathetic she'd gone on and on about all the things that needed doing. But if you tried to pin her down, she'd find reasons for not doing them just yet. It was simply her way of needling him. So, this Sunday he'd decided he'd rather be hung for a sheep as a whatever it was. He was going to arrive at 2 o'clock in time for lunch. That gave him an extra hour in bed as well as time to catch up on paperwork.

He was enjoying working for the new guy, Owain. He seemed a nice bloke, attractive and friendly. It was odd about his family; Owain had let slip bits and pieces and Colin was pretty sure there was more. It made Colin’s family life seem perfectly normal. Fancy your Dad throwing you out at 18. But then Colin felt a wave of panic, because, of course, his Mum and Miles didn't know. At 18, Owain had stood up to his Dad, but at 32 Colin was hardly out at all. His Mum and Miles had no idea he was gay, and none of the guys at work did either. Colin kept telling himself that it wouldn't be a big deal, but he never took the step.

Regarding Owain, Colin worried that he was letting his attraction lead him rather than being professional. He was even wondering about telling Owain about the choir's concert, the guy had talked about going to the sung services at the Minster when he was younger, with a family friend, and he was even wondering about joining a choir. It wouldn't hurt, would it. Would it?

He made good time to his Mum's, to find her going on about all the things they could have done, if he'd arrived 'on time', as if there was a set time. Playing the same old record, of how she was unwell and a widow and needed Colin to take care of her. He sometimes wondered, was this an act too, or would she really be delighted if he moved back home? Horror of horrors.

Yet, whilst she always managed to get him, he worried that there might be some truth in her moans, that she really did need help. This time, though, he'd got really annoyed and after lunch he had turned round to her and asked what needed doing. But then Miles, Annalisa and the twins had arrived. And it became ‘let's get at Colin’ time. Finally he walked out. Feeling pleased with himself till he got home. He always took his washing on Sunday. Not that his Mum did it for him, but he figured doing it at her place saved him time during the week.

It was still there, however, sitting in the laundry bag in her kitchen. Shit.

He was buggered if he was going back for it. So, come Monday morning he had to go to Owain's bare arsed. He’d been meaning to buy some more underwear but hadn’t quite got round to it. Partly because he did not want to admit the truth of the way his belly had got bigger. New kecks meant either pretend and buy the same ones or admit defeat and get measured. So, he’d put things off. He’d just have to make sure his work jeans were in the right place.

Or was he kidding himself. Colin’s experience of guys had simply been one of being in the right place and knowing the other bloke was up for it. He’d never made the running, if the other bloke made a move, then you were on. With Owain it was different. For a start, he was a client, and there were boundaries that ought not to be crossed.

Yet Colin had grown aware of that Owain seemed attracted. There’d been a couple of times when he’d caught Owain displaying more than casual curiosity in Colin’s unintentional display of builder’s bum. He was horribly aware that when he worked, bending over, everything slipped southward, yet Owain seemed interested, enjoyed it even. Or was the guy just being polite.

Colin didn’t really know how to take things further, or whether he should. So, he was kidding himself. He could have found something to wear or dug out his overalls. But he didn’t, he went bare-arsed.

What happened next wasn’t what he’d anticipated.

His Mum had always complained that when he was working on something, his attention was entirely focused on the task in hand, ignoring everything around him from the phone or the doorbell to his Mum’s shouts.

He was working under the sink, trying to dismantle some crazily assembled cabinetry. His jeans slipped down, and down. He was intent on finishing and stupidly ignored them, aware that he was revealing more bum than usual. He’d sort himself out in a minute, just get this sorted.