‘And stay in your fleapit student digs?’ Miles said mischievously. ‘No thank you.’
‘I need to sit down. That absinthe is evil.’
‘Over here.’
They walked back up the beach to the gentle slope of still-warm sand that ran up to the virgin forest behind them and flopped down. For a few minutes they lay in silence, looking up at the inky star-sprayed sky. Alex wished he had his Walkman with him. A moment like this deserved a soundtrack – something bittersweet and melancholic like The Smiths or REM. He closed his eyes, trying to lock the memory into his brain.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Miles, laughing gently. He had turned on his side and was propping himself up on his elbow, watching his friend with amusement.
‘Trying to remember the moment. You know, for when I’m stuck in my fleapit student garret with a view of nothing but dry rot.’
‘Alex?’
Before Alex even realised what was happening, Miles had moved towards him, cupping his hand around Alex’s chin to pull him closer, his lips descending on to Alex’s in a soft kiss. For a moment Alex relaxed into Miles’ embrace; it felt strange, but not unpleasant, like biting into some unknown exotic fruit. Miles’ tongue gently pushed into his mouth, his breath shuddering with arousal, and they were caught in a moment of desire. But, in a rush, Alex suddenly felt Miles’ erection through his thin linen shorts and he sprang away as if he’d been burnt by fire. He scrambled to his feet then froze, paralysed by embarrassment, looking intently away from his friend, not daring even to breathe.
‘I thought that’s what you wanted,’ said Miles quietly. His voice was low, with a hint of menace.
Alex glanced at his friend, who was now lying back on the sand, and suddenly he felt angry. It was typical of Miles to twist this situation and make him feel as if that sudden, unexpected kiss had been his own fault. Alex certainly had affection for Miles, in fact it may even have bordered on hero-worship at times, but this wasn’t what he wanted, not at all. He felt his stomach clench: had it been what Miles had wanted all along? Was that why they had been such unlikely friends? He searched his mind for memories at Danehurst – an unwanted touch perhaps or a lingering look as they showered together after rugby – but there was nothing. He shook his head. Miles wasn’t gay; he’d been going out with Sasha for ever.
‘Come on, Miles,’ said Alex with a nervous laugh. ‘We’re both just a bit pissed. No need to get all soppy, eh?’
Miles sat up and fixed Alex with a stare as he lit a cigarette. ‘You fucking started it.’
Alex suddenly realised they weren’t alone. Both boys looked back towards the path. Standing watching them was a young man in Angel Cay’s navy-blue staff shorts and polo shirt.
Miles jumped hastily to his feet and gave the boy a confrontational stare. ‘What are you looking at?’
The boy took a few steps back. ‘Sorry, nothing.’
He had an American accent. Alex could see he was about their age.
‘Who the fuck are you anyway?’ snapped Miles, his cheeks colouring in the moonlight.
‘I’m Bradley. I arrived this morning. Just working on the boats for a few days.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Miles. ‘And what’s that?’ He pointed to the bo
ttle in the boy’s hand.
‘Just a beer,’ he said defensively. ‘I’m just having a drink. It’s Independence Day and all.’
‘I don’t care what day it is,’ replied Miles, his voice hard. ‘This isn’t a holiday for you. You are an employee of my family and you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just one beer.’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence,’ snapped Miles. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘No, I’m not,’ said the boy nervously, backing away. ‘Listen, I’d better go.’
Miles flicked his cigarette across the sand. ‘If you’re not drunk, then walk in a straight line and pick that up.’
For a few seconds the boat boy stood motionless, not knowing what to do.
‘Go on,’ said Miles, a nasty edge to his voice. ‘Pick it up.’
Shrugging, the boy walked slowly over to the cigarette and bent to pick it up. He was still crouched on the sand when Miles took another cigarette from his packet and threw it six feet behind Bradley.
‘Now pick that one up.’