Paul spent much of the journey to the King’s Head worrying. What if anyone saw him with Trevor? He tried to think, did any of his mates drink at the King’s Head? Why didn’t he suggest somewhere else, somewhere further out of town? Then he mentally slapped himself. Trevor seemed like a decent bloke, if a little on the campy side. His musings were cut short as the drive to the pub took less than five minutes.
“What do you fancy?” Paul asked as they stood at the bar waiting to be served.
Trevor raised a thin, no doubt plucked, eyebrow.
Paul had his usual half of bitter. He was driving after all. Trevor said he’d have a campari and soda.
After paying for the drinks, Paul steered them to a booth. He tried to convince himself there was no particular reason why he chose one at the very back.
