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“Don’t.” He smiled. Funny how I liked it when he smiled.
“Do you want anything to eat?” I offered. “I mean, I’ve eaten, but I’ve got…” I rummaged around in the shopping bag he’d brought. “Blackberry and beetroot smoothie. Nice. You didn’t have to.”
I was rambling and my hands shook as I placed two bottles on the table.
“Sorry it’s not the right cereal. I couldn’t remember the brand.”
I didn’t know what he was apologising for. He’d obviously been shopping—or his runner had—at some uber-posh farm shop or something. Cereal milled by hand by the self-proclaimed Duke of Fibre.
“I always buy Sainsbury’s own cheap crap muesli. This is like organic, award-winning…probiotic goodness of some kind.”
I stared at the box. He stared too.
“Too much?”
“Nah.” I giggled. “You can do my shopping, anytime, if this is what you buy me. And look. Paracetamol.” I held it up like it was a prize.
His fingers had dropped from my face, and now his hand weighed down my shoulder.
“Sorry for eating all your stuff. Sorry for puking in your bathroom. And squatting in your bed.”
“You can squat in my bed, anytime.”
Matt!!!!! What was I saying?
“Is that an invitation?”
“Dude!” I hated that word. Never used it.
He let his hand drop. I wanted to bite off my bloody tongue.
“Con, I’m a totally normal, red-blooded gay man. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting. But this is…it’s not a date. It’s a very lovely friendship and I appreciate all this and—”
“It’s nice to have a friend,” he said quietly, and there it was again. The way he stared at me.
“Yes.” I had no other words.
“I really like that you’re so…direct with things, Matt. Most people don’t tell you anything about themselves. You just blurt out your life story the minute you meet people, and I like that. It makes you easy to…be friends with.”
“The gay stuff, you mean? Look, I went to a really crap senior school, and I got outed and bullied and bloody crucified. And on top of that, when you spend your teens carrying around this big secret, it feels like a tonne of weight has come off your shoulders once you realise that you don’t have to lie anymore. I learnt that the hard way. I’m me. I’m a teacher and I’m gay. It’s just easier to be upfront with these things. Saves rumours and misunderstandings and…such.”
“You have a boyfriend?” he asked, sitting himself down at the table.
“Nah.” I pushed a bottle of smoothie towards him, grabbing the other bottle for myself. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to share my life with. I like living on my own, my own space. Peace and quiet.”
“Sorry.” He was looking at his hands.
“Until I met you.” I was desperately trying to save this because I was not only being unfriendly, but I was also now being downright rude.
“You don’t have to be polite. I know I’m a lot.”
“You’re not a lot. You’re actually, truthfully, nice.”
“Even my mum thinks I’m an antisocial tosser. I don’t do anything but work and work out. And I have no friends. Never even had a relationship.”
That was a lot coming out of his mouth, and he was staring at me again with that look that said he regretted ALL his life choices.
“Neither have I,” I said. “Not the end of the world. Not everyone meets the love of their life and gets married and has kids and lives happily ever after.”
