33: George Glassing

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again nothing really explicit, Timmy's just fucking horny

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Timothée looked at himself in the mirror. It was Thursday, three days since he'd had dinner with his family, and those three days had been consumed by guilt and anger. Guilt that he'd dragged Lucia into something she had no say over, and anger that she was the first name that popped into his head. Or, maybe, it was the other way around - he wasn't really sure.

He clenched his teeth together and stared at his reflection, at his hair, flat on one side and nonsensical on the other. He doused it in water from the tap. Ran a hand through it, tipped his head over and shook it, but it was no use. Pauline was right - he was starting to look like Bardot, (although thankfully he didn't smell like Bardot yet).

He looked a little closer for a second. Prodded the softness of his stomach. Wished it was tauter, wished his chest was broader, his ribs less prominent. Willed his skin to tan, not burn, for his hair to turn lighter, shorter. His eyes could stay the same - he didn't mind them because they fitted in with the description, Saoirse's description, the type of person she wanted.

He thought back to the cafe. To her eyes lighting up as she spoke about her date. Her gentle, joking words, which cut him deeper than harsh ones ever could.

He was like you, but my type.

Timmy got dressed, pulling pants over his legs and shoving a cap on his head, before leaving the apartment. He stole a quick glance at Lucia's door on his way past, debating doing something, saying something, but she'd be at work, anyway, and what would he do, what would he say?

So he did nothing, said nothing, and left the building.

It had been overcast all morning, the sky a brooding grey, and just after Timmy stepped outside, it started to spit lazily, like it couldn't quite work out if he deserved to be caught out in a downpour. Timothée hurried along. Kept his head down and his cap low, shoved his hands into his pockets, and took great big strides along the sidewalk.

Wondered if he'd think of her every time it started to rain.

By the time he got to the barber's, the sky had decided his fate, and was lashing down huge pellets of rain, so cold and biting it almost felt like hail. He took shelter under the awning and pulled out his phone, glancing for any new messages.

Paulie

So does this mystery neighbor have a name?

11:47

Timmy

Yes

12:39

He scowled at the screen. Imagined what would happen if he went through with it, more importantly if Lucia went through with it. Wondered if he could convince her to date him for just one night.

Because you could pay people for that shit, but an escort wouldn't cut it, an escort wouldn't have the bond he had with Lu, wouldn't be able to make it seem genuine. And if it ever got out that he'd hired someone...

"Sir, are you here for a trim?" a man asked, leaning round the door frame, and Timothée started.

"Sorry, yes," he said quickly, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He took off his cap as he walked inside, welcomed by the smell of shampoo and shaving foam and warm, soapy water. The man led him to a chair by the window, which he plonked himself into. Looked out of the foggy window as a cape was tied around his shoulders and the hair of the previous client was swept from beneath his feet.

TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️Onde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora