Chapter 8: Really Cold Type

The palace owner looked around the bedroom without showing any emotion. Uh, he's a really cold type thought David, but he didn't show anything of himself. The guy might have just been tired.

"Kitchen, bathroom and bedroom," said Norwegian, placing his laptop bag on the bed. "Still the study."

"Right, I forgot!" David felt like knocking himself on the forehead. After all, in his order Meiden had clearly emphasized the importance of the study. Probably he planned not only to live in the big house but also to work - whatever he did. "It's downstairs."

"Let's go. Put the bag anywhere."

David briskly ran down the stairs and pointed to a door at the other end of the hall than kitchen.

"This used to be the countess's study," the boy explained, letting him in the front. "The study door connects to the library. Now there are no books there. The view from the window may not be the prettiest, because right behind it spreads the park and the trees cover everything, but it is quite quiet here."

"The third door?" Meiden pointed to the one next to the desk, by the window, in which their silhouettes were reflected.

"Directly into the park. That is, through a small veranda. Apparently, the countess liked to sit on it looking at the park. Well, and it was more convenient for servants to bring tea and cakes there from the summer kitchen, which stands there further to the left. In the kitchen are similar doors."

"How many exits are there from this house?"

"On the first floor? Four. But if one insists, one can also get two to the second floor. It's not easy, but one can. Now all of them are locked except the main one. Most have not been used for years. I think I have already shown you everything...."

"Yes, thank you, I can handle it. I'll drive you back."

"But you really don't need to, Mr. Meiden. You are tired..."

"Get in the car."

Meiden did not shout, on the contrary, he spoke in a hushed, calm voice, in which there was, however, something commanding. Something... cold. This guy definitely didn't like it when someone opposed him and gave the impression of one who could easily put his own way with any means available and with so much money he had and the means.

I wonder what the job will be like for him once he's on the ground?

***

David was not surprised that the light was on in the house, nor that as soon as he stepped over the threshold his mother appeared right next to him barraging him with questions about Meiden. He sighed in spirit but was unable to do anything about her curiosity other than tell what he knew. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would be enough for tonight and he could go to bed. It was really late and he only dreamed of being in his bed.

"And what did you do with your clothes?" she called out suddenly.

"Me?" he was surprised and looked at himself. With his clothes everything was in the best possible order. True, after all, he had changed his clothes when he came with Meiden to get the keys. His mother must have been talking about the clothes there. David croaked. He had completely forgotten about the fact that the new owner of the palace had taken him for a thief and knocked him down. On top of that, he did it so easily!

However, he definitely could not tell this to his mother or father, who did not ask him anything, but listened carefully to his answers. If they found out how bad his first impression was of the man they hoped so much to work for, it would be over.

"I went to turn off the sprinkles and slipped on the wet grass," he lied rather smoothly. "Can it be washed? I like this shirt very much."

"Of course you like it! You gave more than a hundred zlotys for it! And now it looks like a rag!"

He wanted to remind his mother that this was his own hard-earned money and he had the right to spend it as he saw fit, but he preferred not to provoke her, not now, when the fate of his favorite T-shirt lay in her capable hands,

"And the pants," she groaned.

Because of the pants, he had a guilty conscience. The parents had paid for them.

"So how, can it be washed away?"

"We'll see. With the pants there shouldn't be a problem, but the shirt... the drawing may be washed."

David felt like cursing. It was precisely because of the print that the T-shirt cost so much. It would be bad if he were to lose it, but what could he do? He owed it to himself that he forgot to turn off the washers and went in the dark on someone else's property in the best clothes he had. Although Meiden wasn't blameless either. He didn't warn anyone of his arrival and besides, he should have first asked who the person on his property was and not immediately knocked him down like that. This, however, was a matter between him and Meden. Between him and his mother it was still a matter of getting rid of the stains from his shirt.

"Thanks! You are wonderful," he smiled at her. The compliment clearly pleased her.

"I've already soaked your clothes." She announced to his delight, "As usual, you threw them on the wrong way. Come to the kitchen, you're probably hungry!"

"Actually, no," he called out running up the stairs. "But I would lay down already. I get up tomorrow morning. I still have some work to do on the palace."

He quickly ran into his room, shucked off his shoes and fell on his bed. He was tired, but excited. The events of that evening were so unexpected and so exciting that his heart was still pumping adrenaline through his veins. As he prepared for sleep, he wondered, what kind of man is Gustav Meiden?

Outside the window crickets were singing. They didn't bother him, in fact he liked the sound. He slipped under the covers and put his hands under his head. He was definitely too excited to sleep.

***

"I'm sorry I didn't manage to cheer you up. Maybe... you want to spend the night at my place?" Luke asked with his hand on the car handle. He was just about to get out, but he couldn't leave Greg like this.

"Thanks for your concern, but I can handle it. Besides, this evening wasn't so bad..."

It really wasn't? Luke thought, and suddenly a black-haired boy appeared in front of his eyes, whom his friend was interested in today. At the sight of him, Greg's eyes lit up. It was not the bright, serene light of the morning but at least it was not indifference either. This country boy at least interested him even if only for a moment.

"Will you come by my place tomorrow?" he suggested. "We'll play something together. Or let's go to the mall, walk around..."

Greg squirmed in boredom.

"Maybe..."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night with me?"

He thought he exaggerated with the question, because the expression on his buddy's face became unpleasant. It was better to back off. But...

"Why didn't you want to try it with that boy when you found out it was a boy?" asked Greg surprisingly.

Luke felt himself blushing.

"Well, you know, it's a boy after all, and..."

"I know it's a boy, that's why I'm asking why not?"

Luke felt distinctly uncomfortable. He had no interest in the same sex. He considered it something unnatural for a guy to be attracted to a guy. However, he knew - he had no proof, but he was sure it was the case - that Greg had this kind of contact with men. If he said something anti, he might offend his friend and he didn't want that.

"I don't think I've ever been in a situation where I felt the urge to, you know..."

Then something happened that he didn't expect. Greg move closer to him, lifted his chin and looked him straight in the eye. It was so sudden that Luke did not have time to react. All he could do was stare in surprise into his friend's eyes, which were dangerously close to his face, as close as if in a moment Greg was going to kiss him....

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