“Be fun, Nate,” Mum adds. “You shared a tent.”
“A tent. Not a sleeping bag.” I turn back to the reception lady. “We’re not together. We’re mates.”
She gives me an unimpressed look. “OK.”
I look at everyone else, and everyone else, including the old couple who are waiting in line behind us, seems equally unimpressed. “What?” I say.
“Jack would make a great husband!” Rose says.
“Didn’t ask anything, why are you speaking?”
“You said ‘what?’ so I’m answering!” Rose replies.
“Anyway, get over it, Nate,” Mum says. “Sleep in the car park if you’re that bothered.”
“I mean, it’s 2020 after all,” Jack says, with a grin.
I absolutely give him one of my death stares; it’s like that boy just cannot help but take the piss all the time. Does he not understand I said that because I was being deliberately evasive? I didn’t want to come out to the girls, but I also didn’t want to totally lie. Why is that such a problem?
“Here’s your key card,” Reception Lady says, handing it over. “Breakfast from seven, check out by eleven. Enjoy your stay – I’ve put you in the honeymoon suite!”
My eyes widen.
Her face falls. “That’s a joke, we’re a motorway motel – we don’t have a honeymoon suite.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JACK
Absolutely sick …
… of Nate’s shit.
Literally, I’m over him. I have a really high tolerance for fuckery, but Nate’s just smashed right through it.
We both stomp to the bedroom in silence, and the moment the door closes behind us, I throw my case down and I’m so ready to give Nate a piece of my mind that—
“What’s your problem?” Nate barks at me.
“Oh my actual god, what’s your problem?”
“Dig, dig, dig! All the time! I can’t take it! If I annoy you so much, why did you come on this thing?”
“Well, if I annoy you so much, why did you invite me?”
He’s right up in my face. “I. Didn’t!”
He’s sort of right, which is deeply annoying. But none of that is the actual point here. “Nate, you’ve been grumpy – well, OK, you’ve been grumpy since for ever, but you’ve been especially grumpy on this trip, and I get it, Tariq, but you’re just letting them win by being like this.”
“Well, they have won, so.”
“And, like, what exactly did I do wrong last night?” I ask.
Nate stares at me, unblinking.
“I was trying to look out for you,” I add. “Because I understand how raw this all is for you.”
He’s still just staring.
“Or maybe it’s not raw?” I say. “Maybe you’re actually cool with it, don’t care, have moved on and you’re looking for someone new? After all, it’s 2020.”
Now I get a reaction. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he says.
“It’s cool, you don’t want people to know you’re gay.”
“That’s not the case…”
“Well, except you did the same thing with the hotel receptionist just now – made a big old song and dance about how we weren’t together and could we have separate beds—”
“Oh my god, Jack, so what if I don’t want to be all gay and in everyone’s face about it?”
I snap my fingers. “And there’s the crux of it! You hate the fact that I am! Don’t you? You can’t stand it. Is that why you didn’t speak to me after year nine, when I came out?”
Nate’s face goes stony. “That’s not—”
“That why you stayed quiet when those lads made a fuss about changing with me?”
He looks down at the floor.
“Deserved it, I suppose, did I? Like Mrs Nunn said, I bring it on myself because I don’t try to hide it!”
He looks up. “Why are you bringing all this up?”
I actually laugh, his question is so ridiculous. I mean, where would I start? How hurt I was when we stopped hanging out? How I know it’s because he didn’t like me being so overtly gay? How, aside from Instagram, this trip could have been a chance to repair things a bit, except Nate’s still Nate and he clearly still has a problem if I’m not straight-acting? Exactly the same as Dylan did? “How shall I be more straight for you, Nate? Maybe I could start walking slowly along pavements, with no purpose – would that be more straight? Wear a Ben Sherman shirt on a night out in town? I could stop asking for oat milk in my lattes, just go for good old cishet full-fat dairy!”
“Shut up, Jack.”
I nod. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what everyone wants, isn’t it? Fine to be gay, as long as you’re not too gay. As long as you can be slotted into some nice little inoffensive category that doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable. Not like it affects you anyway, but god forbid I should celebrate any scrap of happiness in who I am!”
“I’m sleeping in the bathroom,” he says, going in and slamming the door, like I might not even need to pee or floss or anything.
“Fine. Sleep in the bathroom.”
Thirty minutes later and Nate is out of the bathroom and standing by the side of the bed.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” he says in a small voice.
“Or is it just that you don’t want to sleep in the bath?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The shower’s dripping.”
“Right. Well.” I flip the page of my novel.
“I’m sorry,” Nate says.
“OK.”
“Can I get in the bed?”
I sigh, put my book down on the little bedside table and turn to look at him. I do it all really slowly though, to give the moment the gravitas it deserves. “Yes,” I say eventually.
He gives me a little smile, walks around to the other side and hops in, lying straight down on his back.
“Shall I turn the light out?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I flick it off, then lie down on my back too. For a moment, there’s just the sound of our breathing, until Nate shuffles over so he’s lying on his side, facing me. “Jack?”
I don’t turn to look at him. “Uh-huh?”
“I’m sorry I’ve been grumpy. I know you were trying to help me back in the cabin. And I
