“Look,” Trevor set down
his sandwich. “Relax, will you?”
“What?”
“Paul.” Trevor shook his
head. “Yes, I am a gay man, which means I like men.”
Paul looked like he was
about to flee. Trevor imagined him running out of the house, his
hands moving swiftly between his arse and his wedding tackle, not
sure which was in greater need of protection.
Stifling a smile, he
continued. “But I’m not after you.”
Paul looked even more
panicked.
“Shit,” Trevor said under
his breath. He was supposed to be putting the bloke at ease, not
making the situation worse. Paul had barely taken more than a
couple of bites out of his panini, and if there was one thing
Trevor was uncomfortable with, it was wasting food.
“Okay, a bit of a history
lesson. All you never wanted to know about gay relationships, and
were too afraid to ask.”
“What? I—”
“Paul, it’s obvious you’re
uncomfortable with me. I thought we’d at least broken the ice over
the last couple of days, but I was wrong.”