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“It’s fine. Us gay men take these things a little too seriously sometimes.” He was smiling, Joking. I got it. “And Happy Birthday!” he added, though he still seemed weirded out, but then Iwasweird. I knew that. I’d grown up in a bubble of acting and lived a skewed existence my whole adult life. I had no idea how to deal with things that didn’t involve work. I didn’t date. My agent set me up with people to be photographed with. I had no friends outside theWhite Noiseproduction team. I didn’t see anyone but my mum on my rare days off. It was just the way it was, and now I was being completely inappropriate with a stranger.
“Thanks,” I whispered weakly, having completely lost myself in my own stupidity.
“I’ll see you around?” He was walking backwards, giving me that awkward wave again and a smile, setting my head spinning once again.
I had no idea what to say or do.
So…I went to the gym, ran until I almost threw up and had the longest shower known to man before I crammed a protein shake down my neck and passed out.
Matt
“Youdon’twanttodo this,” Detective Cass Powell growled in a voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
He was naked—from the waist up at least—but the camera angle implied more, as a shot of a female hand stroking his bum flashed before my eyes.
“I can do whatever I want. I’m your boss, Powell. You know that. And now I have your balls in a vice.”
Inspector Stella Rubin did indeed have his balls in a vice. Not only was she seductively whispering that last line into his ear but she also now had his balls in her grip and going by the mess Cass Powell had got himself in, she knew his tricks. He knew hers too, and they were clearly doing the deed right there in the back office of their police station. I grimaced slightly and checked my watch.
It had been stupid even sitting down to watch TV when I should be prepping for tomorrow, but I’d come back from another shitty day at work, dealing with a fight and a suspension, and now the head wanted me to take on some Enterprise business venture thing that would win the school prizes, and I had a brand-new colleague to onboard onto the team. She was fresh out of training, young and green, but nice. To be honest, an hour or two on the sofa watching mindless rubbish on TV was exactly what I needed. Hence, I was two episodes into the first season ofWhite Noise. I’d watched it all before, of course, but that mess of a bloke was now pretty much stalking me, with his total lack of personal space and insistence that I agree to dine with him. I shook my head in disbelief. Wasn’t happening. I’d always thought he was handsome, but in real life? No.
No. Absolutely not.
There were lines in the world that should not be crossed. Ever. I, of all people, knew that. It didn’t work like that. I’d known I was gay all my life and been out since I was fourteen, but I was not some uber-attractive, ripped dude who could waltz off into the sunset with the chap from the cover ofMen’s Health. Things were not going to magically change just because I’d got hit square in the face.
It wasn’t that bad, the bruise on my face. It had made people laugh at work today, my colleagues ribbing me, endless stares from the students as I held my head high and stared back. I didn’t take any crap from anyone, not anymore. I may have been a weak kid back when I was a student, but these days, I handled myself better. I knew when to blend into the wallpaper, and I knew when to stand up for myself and shout louder than anyone else. I’d won battles, many of them. I wasn’t living in some kind of dream world, but grey had never been a colour that had suited me, and I refused to blend into the straight world and just pass.
Pride was a strange word, but I was proud of who I was. Maybe I wasn’t living in the grandest house. Nor did I have a husband, dog or two-point-four children, but I hadn’t done badly for myself, managing to buy this flat. It was handy for the Tube, had every convenience nearby and was far enough away from the school that I didn’t have to deal with my students in my spare time. Not like my colleague Otis, who lived right next to the school entrance and had eggs thrown at his door on a daily basis, graffiti sprayed on his car. He needed to move, and he knew it.
Here, in my little second-floor apartment, I was shielded from the world outside. I had my workstation, my bookshelves, a sofa and TV and a small kitchen where I whizzed up meals. Not that I was a MasterChef of any kind, but I grilled some mean burgers, and my stir fries were legendary. See? I was fine. I was OK.
I was wondering if I should bite the bullet and get myself laid this weekend. I deserved it. I really did, and it would make me feel better about everything, but every time I passed the mirror, I’d cringe and realise that getting some good dick might not happen if I opened the door looking like this. I’d give people the completely wrong idea. No. No.
Dammit. I smiled ruefully to myself. I was getting cockblocked by Detective Cass Powell. He was back on my screen, walking down a deserted road, apparently looking for an abandoned suitcase. He’d misplaced some evidence or something. I’d stopped paying attention when he’d taken his shirt off. Then the white vest he was wearing underneath came off, his hand bunching it up so he could wipe his face. Muscles bulged on those arms of his, shoulders flexing in slow motion, eyes glittering in the sun, a drop of sweat running down his cheek and over his lips as the camera zoomed in on his mouth, the very tip of his tongue sticking out before he roughly swiped the sweat away with the back of his hand and normal playback speed resumed.
Whoever cut this fine drama together knew what they were doing becausemyhand was down my trousers, my zip straining against it as my other hand paused and rewound. Here he was again. His shirt coming off. A bronze nipple showing. His freckled skin talking to me.
I stopped myself in horror.What the…? This guy. OK Matt, get a grip.
I could never go to that gym again, although I needed a good run with all this pent-up frustration pulsing through my veins. I also really wanted noodles. I’d been craving them for days, but Con Telford had stolen those from me too, and I’d have to take the long way back from the Tube since I now apparently got stalked by famous actors outside the Premier Inn. It would add another ten minutes to my mornings, having to cross around the back of the estate instead of walking straight to the Tube.
Not only was I being cockblocked, stalked and frustrated by this dude, but he was ruining my life.
I laughed out loud.
I was head of Year 8 in an inner-city school. I could deal with anything. Yet here I was, scared of a man who couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces. What was wrong with me?
I switched the TV off in disgust and unbuttoned my shirt, chucked my suit trousers over the back of the sofa as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. OK, so my face was not much to shout about, but I did have nice lips. Strong shoulders. A runner’s body. That’s how I described myself on the apps. I was lean with muscles in the right places. Not too little, not too much. Just right. Strong.
I didn’t do weights, but I did use the rowing machines to my advantage, leaving my body to do its job, my mind blanking as I breathed and let my music take me away.
I’d hated PE at school. Now the gym opposite where I lived was the highlight of my evenings. The one place where I didn’t feel out of place. It didn’t matter if the other gym users had bigger muscles or ran faster; I kept a steady pace and popped 5K without too much effort. It made me feel good, and nobody actually cared who I was or how fast I ran or what I was wearing.
I grabbed my usual gear, a shirt and shorts, and tied my shoelaces. Double knot. Key. Wallet. Bag.
I kept my head down and tapped myself in through the gates. Put my stuff in a locker, shoved my card in the lining of my shorts. Grabbed one of the free water bottles. Yes, this was a posh gym, which was why I liked it. They provided towels and water in actual bottles—reusable, of course, so they were also kind to the environment. Small things, all considered, but they were important to me.
I took part in beach clean-ups. My class sponsored rainforest work in South America. I’d championed the complete removal of plastic from our school canteen. We were not there yet, but the changes we’d pushed through were substantial.
