The Invasion of Adam (Tork and Adam Book 2) (2 page)

“C’n I sit next to you?” It was Kevin.

Tork remembered his manners. “Of course. Please sit here next to me, and we can help one another.” He stared at the bank forms bleakly.

“Does anyone already have a bank account?” Alex asked, looking around at the shuffles and blank faces.

Tork had never spoken at a meeting or a life skills class, even when Alex looked pointedly at him. He just couldn’t.

“Tork? What about you?”

He felt the weight of their looks, crushing him like a gigantic cheese press. Terrible warm trickles of humiliation and fear flooded his body and crept under his skin, up his neck and into his face. He could be packed up and off within five minutes. Being homeless wasn’t so bad, and anything was better than this.

“Yeah, I have,” Kevin spoke loudly, and miraculously, the attention moved away from Tork just in time for him to breathe.

If he sat on his hands, no one would see the shaking or the sweat.

Alex began to talk through the process, and after a few moments of head-banging panic, the room came back into alignment again. They were, after all, just kids.

There was no real reason for fear, but that didn’t stop it.

“I haven’t really,” Kevin whispered. Instead of words, he began to draw whirlpools on the bank form, pressing down harder and harder on the paper. Anguish was trapped in there, Tork could see. Kevin couldn’t write.

“What’s your second name, Kevin?” he asked, writing ‘Kevin’ on his own form.

“Miller. Kevin Miller.”

“Date of birth?”

Kevin thought.

“Not sure, mate. July twentieth, I think.”

Tork’s heart stuttered at this. Even when he’d been at his lowest, he’d always known his own birthday.

“Do you know the year you were born, Kevin?”

Kevin shrugged.

“How old are you? We can work it out together.”

They managed to fill in the whole form while all the others left.

“Fanks.” Kevin grinned, his brown stubs looming out of his mouth. It was hard not to stare at them, but Tork smiled back.

“You are very welcome. I like your drawings. If you like, I can show you how to make paper models.”

“What about you, Tork?” Alex took his arm, and Tork involuntarily pulled back.

Rule: no touching.

“I already have a bank account. I lost all the papers, but Mike helped me to get them back,” he whispered, knowing she was watching him carefully.

“How are you doing, love? You seem to be out every time I come round.”

But it was already way too much for one day, and smiling at her as he ran was the best he could manage.

* * *

All the way up the tram line, his bad temper just grew and grew. This was a shit part of town, and people like him shouldn’t have to come here. He shook his head in disbelief at all the garden sofas and litter…

At the burnt-out cars…

At the gangs of kids…

At all the boarded-up houses.

But mostly, he shook his head at himself, for coming here when he had a perfectly nice college flat over the other side of town, far away from this plague city…

Where his friends were all talking about the Summer Ball dance at the end of the academic year…

What had started out as a minor annoyance bubbled away inside him, like a bad bottle of champagne, and by the time the tram reached his destination, Adam wore resentment like an ill-fitting cloak.

Why the fuck can’t we meet at my flat?

Why can’t Tork be normal?

Adam noticed some girls giggling at him. He knew he looked good, but he still moved back a little from the window to catch a glimpse of his reflection before getting off. He liked to look his best, even though he was only visiting the dump.

The housing place was just a little way from the tram stop, so
thank god
he didn’t have to walk far in this town that everything good had forgotten.

Adam hunched inwards as he strode quickly towards the flats, not so much in case anyone he knew saw him, but because it was dangerous. Every time he walked down this road, he felt like some gangster was going to steal his coat or his phone. He wasn’t scared, just superior.

By the time he got to the block, he was almost running and swore to himself this was absolutely the last fucking time he came here. He could be seeing at least ten other guys, most of whom still sent him daily texts. They all lived on the right side of town, all had phones… But none of them made him sweat the way Tork did.

The outside door was locked. In his irritation, he hit the buzzer a little too hard. The small speaker crackled, and his heart sped up. In an instant, he forgot the tram ride and his temper.

“Yes?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He swallowed, determined that this time his voice would remain steady—manly—at all times. He needed to be in control.

The door into the block of flats clicked open, and he scaled the stairs quickly. Tork’s door was still closed. He banged, much too loudly.

“Tork?” Then, even louder. “Tork! Open the bloody door.”

“Who is it?”

“
Who is
…” Adam started indignantly, but then stopped abruptly, remembering his last visit. He smirked. “It is I, Adam.”

“Adam who?”

Adam leaned against the door, peering at the tiny spyhole. He winked, giggling. “Adam Hunk, come to invade you,” he mouthed, knowing that Tork could see him.

The door opened at last, and there he was, like a manga animation. Even now, Adam found it hard to look straight at Tork, because doing so did things to his trousers that he couldn’t control.

Tork was stunning, always stunning: slim and strong, with almond-shaped amber eyes and green spiky hair that Adam dreamt about. He was clever and kind, sexy and so mysterious that even five months after first meeting, Adam knew very little about him.

Tork was grinning too, his green head tilted to one side. “You are so full of it,” he said, and then Adam was roughly pulled inside the flat.

He never knew what kind of a visit it would be—one with kissing, or one without. They had not been together very long, but it was long enough for Adam to know that when the kisses happened, the world actually stopped. Amazingly, just that was enough to keep him coming here.

Even with no fucking!

It had been about six weeks since Tork moved in, but still the flat was full of wrapped furniture, all donated by the shelter.

“Why haven’t you opened these yet?” Adam sighed at the bed, still wrapped in cellophane. “You can’t still be sleeping on the floor?”

Tork winced, and Adam bit his lips, knowing he’d probably fucked up the chances of a kiss now. But on he went.

“I just don’t get it, Tork. This stuff is
yours,
OK? Look how comfortable that bed would be for us.” He continued blithely, hearing himself as the blush crept up his stupid face. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean…you know. I just…”

Tork’s dark eyebrows shot up, and Adam drew breath to say more, but then clamped his mouth shut with his hand, and stopped.

Oval-shaped caramels met Adam’s eyes. An invisible energy fizzled across the bare flat, as Tork stepped forward and gently took Adam’s hands.

“Shh,” he whispered. “You always talk too much.”

“Well, maybe, but I was just—”

“Shh.” Tork ran both hands up Adam’s arms; Adam tried desperately not to move. He felt the squirmy power of that caress in his whole body, but he wanted to not fuck it up more than he wanted the kiss.

Well, he was almost sure he did.

Tork slid a leg between his and slowly moved his hands up to Adam’s shoulders and across to his neck. Adam moved his legs farther apart and tried hard to keep his mouth from gaping. A thumb stroked the skin below his chin as Tork watched. It was crazy, but he had Adam acting like a dumb virgin, not knowing what to do or say. No one had ever made him feel this out of his depth, or this horny.

Tork’s lips started off gently, tiny kisses on Adam’s mouth, his chin, his nose, before Adam dared to move his own hands to grip Tork’s slim waist.

As Adam’s mouth was gently prised open, he heard himself whimper like a needy bird, desperate for attention.

* * *

Later on, they snuggled and watched a show on the little TV that Adam himself bought—unbeknownst to Tork. In the past, Adam had shunned this kind of closeness with others, but now it seemed to be all he could think about. Just being this close to Tork was such a victory that Adam forgot about all the shitty things he’d planned to say—ultimatums and threats, mostly.

“I brought you some stuff to look at,” he murmured, chancing his own quick kiss. “College stuff, application forms, and course details. If you fill it in now, you could still get in for January.”

Adam knew he was pushing it. Just months ago, Tork had been living on the streets, sick with bronchitis, and here he was trying to get him to go to college. And yeah, to be more normal. More…acceptable.

Tork said nothing, but he took the booklets, and Adam knew he’d look through them later.

“So how have you been? I wish you’d get a phone so I can get hold of you.”

“I am good. I go to the therapy and the meetings. Then I visit the library and change my books.”

Adam was expecting a ‘but’ and knew he would not be able to deal with it. “Good, good,” he rushed in quickly, “Mike will be totally pleased. So how about the phone? I do have an old one you can have,” he lied. He could easily buy a new one for Tork.

“Maybe one day.”

“But
why not
?” Adam heard the petulance slip into his voice and tried to stop it.

“I’m sorry, Adam. I…I can’t do a lot of things yet.”

Tork pulled away and crossed his arms. Adam stopped trying.

“It’s just so fucking hard to see you. I have to come all this way on the tram, and you never make any effort. We can’t even have a cup of coffee, because you won’t unpack the kettle.”

None of that was what he wanted to say.

“You don’t like coffee.”

It was true; Adam hated coffee.

“How do you know that?” he demanded. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. Actually, I fancy a big mug of steaming black coffee. It’s like the least you could do.”

Tork looked at him evenly for a minute, and Adam shook his hair back defiantly. Yeah, he was an arsehole, but nothing new there.

Take me or leave me, baby…but please take me.

“So, what are the other numbskulls in this place like?” he asked gaily, knowing how much that would piss Tork off. But Tork only narrowed one eye and stood up. Adam went to the window and pretended to look out, rubbing at his forehead viciously.

“You know there’s a cat sitting out there? Jeez, this place should be on a TV documentary,” he said, hating himself.

His visits often ended up like this. He wanted it to be so perfect, but the reality was that Tork lived here. Adam didn’t see how they could ever bridge that gap when they couldn’t even talk to one another through the misunderstandings and empty spaces.

He sighed. “I better go soon, don’t want to be waiting at that tram stop on my own, in the dark.”

He turned, and realised that he was alone.

“Tork?” he called, just as the kitchen door opened, and there he was, carrying a mug.

“Here you go. Coffee,” Tork said, handing it over with a lopsided grin.

“You opened the kettle?” Adam took the cup and sniffed at it, just to make sure. The bitter aroma of disgusting coffee swirled around his nose, making him sneer. “Urgh, coffee. Yum, just what I need.” Then, before he had time to reconsider, he added, “You did wash this cup, right?”

“Yes, you are right. I have to start opening things I closed up long ago. Now, drink every drop, or you will say I am making no effort.” Tork smiled as he slowly sat down and leaned back, arms behind his head. “And yes, I washed it. Right before I licked all around the rim.”

Adam knew he was blushing like a naughty school boy. He took a tentative sip and wondered for about the millionth time just how this dude managed to make him humiliated, guilty, and really, really hot. He didn’t even know if he liked it!

But his trousers did.

* * *

After Adam left, the flat was too quiet. He opened the window and left the cat some food. The last few days, the cat would sneak inside, eat the food and then fly off again. Maybe one day, the ginger kitty would be brave enough to stay.

Tork always tried not to go into the room where all the packages were in neat piles, but that night he was strangely drawn. Every time he thought about them, it worried him.

The bed was still wrapped in cellophane. If he opened it, it meant he was staying here, in this place where people were already getting to know him. As long as he didn’t open anything, he could slip away one night, and all these things could go to someone else.

He still slept on the floor in a sleeping bag, so he did not become too soft.

Because he didn’t deserve anything else.

But as he kissed the cup where Adam had drunk, he knew he was slipping anyway.

Once he started opening the kitchen packages, it seemed he could not stop—ripping at cardboard and paper. There were pots and pans, plates, cutlery and a tin opener. Mike and Adam had thought of everything. There was even a radio, hidden away amongst the boxes.

Tork fiddled with it, until he found some music he recognised, and now he had an excuse to make a bowl of bubbles for washing up. The smell of pine trees and warm water sparked off memories of long ago, and soon, a tiny hint of optimism crept back into his desperation.

It almost felt like home.

After all Adam’s whining, he’d only been able to drink a few sips—the cup was still almost full. At first, Adam had fought the grimace, but with each cautious, sip his resolve weakened, until they both ended up laughing…then kissing. Even when Adam was haughty and rude, Tork couldn’t stay cross at him for long.

He remembered the college information and opened the envelope to have a look. The long list of courses entered his blood stream quicker than any alcohol, making him giddy and wanting. If only he could!

There were bank notes attached to the top by a paper clip, with a yellow stick-it saying ‘I am a mobile phone. Use me to text your boyfriend.’ It was about fifty pounds in all. Churning, uncomfortable rushes swarmed Tork. He was being ambushed by kindness again, but how could he ever begin to repay it?