"I didn't know you were friends with Nyora," I say to Fin during a lull.

"Yeah, she's nice. Said we could all go out for drinks one night soon."

"Yeah?" I like the idea, but there's no way Nyora won't spot I have a crush on Fin bigger than bloody Port Phillip.

"She said you were buying this place too."

"Well, she's getting pretty ahead of herself there. We don't exactly rake in heaps."

"Maybe you should." I look at him quizzically, but he continues eagerly. "I mean, I'm sure you know what you're doing better than me, so you know..."

Debatable, but I shrug, encouraging him to carry on.

"It's not like I know anything about business. But this is a perfect location to pull in tourists with cosmetic changes like comfortable couches, maybe a wider range of food; sandwiches and quiche. And I bet you could get more locals if you just offered things that made you different from other places around here - you know, live music, open mics, art shows, that kind of thing."

I've thought of some of those things but always been too afraid to take the next step. The casual way Fin says it makes it seem somehow less daunting though.

It's embarrassing to admit I've been holding myself back, so I don't. "You seem to know enough?"

"Yeah, well, before... My job had a lot of self-promotion in it. I got good at knowing what people want. But I don't have qualifications."

I suppose that makes sense if he did the kind of thing I've assumed. Sex work, or porn, or something. Definitely customer-focused work.

* * * * * 

It's the end of the day when he looks at me shyly, a little nervous, and my own heart skips about optimistically.

"Do you know Foster Street?"

"Do I-? Oh, yeah, it's not that far from me."

"Would you mind showing me? I've seen a place that looks nice, but I'd like to see the area."

"Sure."

We're ready to leave, and he shrugs on his jacket, before reaching to my hand and linking our fingers as I lock the door. I turn to smile, when I see Nielsen standing over his shoulder, and I get it then.

"Mr. Brewster," he says, sneering as his eyes catch our hands.

"What is it?" He's creepy, and I want to get away. Plus, I don't like the way he looks Fin up and down.

"I'm just here to look at my new building," he says, "let me in."

"I spoke to my landlord, it's not yours yet," I tell him, and he looks taken aback as if he'd thought I'd just bend over on this.

"Well, it's only a matter of time."

"Whatever," Fin interrupts, tugging my hand, pulling me away from the door. "We have places to be, Mr. Nielsen. Speak to your precious agent."

"He's a creep, right?" I ask as we walk briskly up the high street, trying not to move my hand too much because I think Fin's forgotten his fingers are still wrapped in mine.

"Huh, yeah. Used to it though."

"You are?"

"My ex." He pauses to glance at me and I try to keep my face stoic. I know there's a story here and I want it. Even if all I am to him is something temporary. An inbetweener. A rebound or a fuck buddy. I want to not make the same mistakes the idiot who came before me made.

"I don't even know where to start." His laugh is weak and wet, and I hate the ex just a little more. "He got me into my job. Even had me leave uni because I started making good money. He called himself my manager, but all he even did was stop me from taking good jobs because he didn't think it fit with my 'aesthetic'. He's such a dick. I mean, it took me a long time to work that out."

"How long?"

"Six years."

"Wow."

"Yeah, 'wow'. He had me so fooled I thought I could cope without him. He cheated on me, took control, told me I was too dumb to be on my own."

"I'm sorry you went through that."

"Yeah, well, I'm out now. He's not getting anything from me. It's why I had to leave though. He'd infiltrated every part of my life. I needed a fresh start."

I want to ask him why he came to work at a coffee shop instead of just carrying on with his career, but maybe that's a bigger trigger, if the dick ex had control over the jobs he took. Besides, we're on Foster Street now, and Fin sweeps his arm to a boxy red-brick building. It's pretty nice - well-kept with a neat hedge. The agent's board confuses me though.

"You're buying?"

"If it's good inside too. My place in Sydney sold in days. Didn't want to ever go back. And, anywhere, property's a good investment."

He must have been good at his job then.

We walk the few streets to get to my little house - a Federation style on a street full of them. The kind of street you'd never guess would be so close to a city, tucked away and tree lined.

"Oh my god," is the first thing Fin says as he stands in the living room, looking around. "It's like a time capsule."

He's not wrong. Most of the furniture was my grandparents'. They bought good quality, and it lasted, other than the things my dad broke in drunken rages.

"Sorry."

"Fuck, don't be," he says, still spinning slowly to take everything in. "It's amazing. Needs a little focus, sure, but it has a lot of promise."

"You're into, er, decor?" I ask him, stupidly.

He just laughs, shrugging and following me into the kitchen so I can make tea.

"No coffee?"

"If you want. I tend to stick to tea when I get home."

"Kind of an old man, eh?"

I blush, looking at the toes of my trainers, even though I know from the other day he doesn't mean anything bad. But it reminds me I'm not something for him to take seriously. Maybe, if I'm lucky, he might want to fool around, but I'm not getting my hopes too high.

I got lost in my thoughts again, and his hand's on my wrist. I'm starting to think I might be getting hooked on that.

"Why do you do that?" I point to where we connect, and it's his turn to blush.

"Sorry. I guess I might have a thing for your wrists. I like how delicate they are even though you have such big hands and strong arms. And the way your tattoos creep down like they're licking your hands." His voice is husky and I want to kiss him so much.

"What?" he asks. "You look-"

"I just, um, can I return the favour?" It sounded a lot suaver in my head.

He laughs softly but I don't feel mocked, especially when he moves to be in front of me, lightly pressing against my body.

"I don't expect anything from you."

"I just haven't really-,"

"Since her?" he asks, which makes me sigh.

"Well yes, but that's not exactly it."

I've never told anyone but Nyora this, and I'm cringing at having to say it. But I owe him honesty. "I didn't know I was bi. I was attracted to someone when I was a teenager, but it never got past kissing. And then I met her at uni, and I just didn't think about it. Not until, well, I did. And I told her, even though I wasn't planning on doing anything with it - I just thought she deserved to know. And I hoped it would stop her assuming I secretly wanted Nyora. It didn't go well."

"I see. That's okay. We can move at your pace." He lets me guide him to my room. "Are you sure though? I don't mind waiting."

"I'm sure. I just... I might be really bad at this."

"Hey." He puts his hand on my cheek like I did to him yesterday. "Don't be embarrassed about inexperience. We all start somewhere."

That gives me some slight confidence that, no matter, he won't judge me.

I want him on my bed, and he strips out of his jeans with no self-consciousness, yanking his t-shirt over his head. He's slight in the torso but has surprisingly broad shoulders and good definition.

He lays back, immediately comfortable, and he looks good on my bed, stretching his body out. Some things are universal, and I crawl up so I can kiss him. I could get very distracted by the soft press of his lips and the flick of his nimble tongue, but that reminds me of other things his tongue can do, plus there's a harder press against my hip that reminds me I have a task.

On my way, I pause to nibble at his nipples, pleased when he gasps and runs his fingers into my hair to hold me there for a moment. I take the chance to run my palm over his length, which is hot and already getting wet at the tip. There's an urge to taste, to move down ignoring his whimper. I'm not going far.

I lick up the side like he did to me. It tastes like, well, skin, but it's kind of velvety and soft and very warm. The moisture on the tip is salty and a little bitter. It isn't a surprise - I've tasted my own. What is surprising, though, is that I want more. Going in, I'd assumed I wouldn't swallow this first time, that it would be too much, but now I put my lips over the tip and gently suck, flicking my tongue over the slit and waiting for a drop to form so I can lap it away. It seems to be working; there's an overwhelming roaring in my ears, but I can still hear Fin swearing over it, and feel his fingers wildly petting over my hair.

I slide down, but the head of his dick is more than I realised, and I gag when it hits my throat, pulling back quickly and sucking in air with tears in my eyes.

"Ssh, take it easy," Fin soothes, rubbing a tear from under my eye. "You don't have to do everything today."

"I want to make you feel good," I say, trying not to sulk. I mean, I know I won't be as good as him, but I still want it.

"Jesus, you are. You're amazing, I promise. You look so good down there, so pretty for me, and it feels incredible."

I don't know if he's just humouring me, or how I feel about being called pretty, but I want to get him to make more noises, so go back down, being more careful. I stick to creating that sucking friction on the head, that had felt so good when he'd done it, and I keep working my tongue at the slit, because he breathes fast when I do that, and throws his head against my pillow.

I love the feeling of making him feel good, though my jaw is starting to ache by the time he's stroking my cheek and telling me he's getting close. I tap his hip so he knows I heard, but stay down. I want it all, even more now, having had so many teasing tastes. When he comes, he pushes his hips back, into the bed, which is lucky, because the flood is more than I expected, and I almost choke again. The bitter flavour is more apparent now, and I swallow quickly - I don't hate it, but it's the look on his face that makes it worthwhile.

"That was incredible," he announces, pulling me back up the bed, murmuring when he can taste himself on me, licking into my mouth. He pulls back, holding my face in his hands. "You're a natural."

I laugh, embarrassed, and shuffle away, off the bed, passing him his clothes. He pulls them on, and suddenly it's awkward in a way I didn't want it to be. Maybe he thinks we're even now, and that's it.

"Um, do you want me to walk you to the station," I ask, but his face goes dark for a beat.

"Do you want to?" he asks.

I decide to be honest. Maybe I can make being brave a new achievement. I might not get what I want, but I like being with him.

"I could order takeout? And we could watch a movie. Hang out?"

He smiles then, and I'm glad it doesn't have him running for the hills.

We eat Chinese food and watch a movie I don't pay attention to, because he's shuffled closer, claiming the wooden arm of the sofa was uncomfortable, until I find his back pressed against me and my arm around him, wrist clasped gently between his fingers, which stroke along the tattoo that covers that arm. It feels comfortable and safe.

When the movie's over it's late. Not too late for the train, but I have a better solution, which I put to him nervously.

"I mean, we're closer to work here."

"And I can borrow a t-shirt?"

"Sure. And I have a new toothbrush you can use."

I show him the spare bedroom, though I wince when I open the door because it smells musty.

"Not been used for a while?" he asks.

"No. Nyora usually just sleeps in my bed."

"I could?" he suggests, tentatively, and I'm turning him towards my room almost before he finishes.

I lend him some ancient, checked pyjama bottoms, and I can feel the soft fabric against my hip as he shuffles into the little spoon, pulling my own pants slightly down with the movement of his bum. He grabs my wrist again, like on the sofa, and I can feel his thumb smoothing over that little bone at the side.

"It's a real comfort thing for you, that?"

"Sorry, if I'm too touchy just tell me to fuck off. I know it's a lot."

He goes to shift away but I tighten my grip on his hip just enough.

"No. I like it. It's been a while."

"Nyora not touchy?"

I laugh. "Nyora's more of a violent sleeper. She hugs like she's trying to squeeze internal organs out. I don't think gentle stroking's in her wheelhouse."

"You two have never...?"

"Never. It's never crossed either of our minds."

"You could be missing something amazing. I mean, you're close."

"No. What we have is amazing. We are close. She's my sister."

Lauren never believed that. She saw how we were together and accused, railed, stamped her foot, and spat her dummy. Fin just murmurs that it's nice to have someone to feel that way about.