“It wasn’t damp,” Dad says.
“We’re doing the spa hotel,” Mum insists.
So, that appears to be settled.
“Sleepover!” Elliot says, looking wildly excited.
“Have you got extra beds in your room, then?” I ask Elliot.
He shakes his head, which is the reaction I was afraid he would have. “Nah, but it’s a super-king-sized bed. It’s massive. I did an experiment and I can actually sleep across it in either direction – that’s how big it is.” He stretches his arms out wide. “Like, even bigger than this.”
“Can you really fit three boys in a bed?” I ask.
Jack snorts. “Believe me, Nate, you can.”
He winks at me and I ignore him hard.
“I’m going to get some air,” Jack says, leaving the table.
I watch him go. He’s still teasing me, which is something, but I saw the look on his face when I said we were “barely friends” and I know that I (unintentionally) hurt him, because, despite the years, I know Jack. I owe him an apology.
“I’m Like a Bird” by Nelly Furtado starts playing over the club’s speaker system. “Oh my GOOOOOD!” Elliot exclaims. “Who’s dancing? I’m dancing!” And he runs into the middle of the dance floor. Rose squeals in delight too, and runs up to join him, giggling and copying Elliot when he literally flaps his arms about like a bird on the chorus, like some demented pterodactyl. I cannot help smiling as I watch this boy. He’s so happy, so free, he just does his thing and he doesn’t care. And his joy is utterly infectious, as other people get up and copy his goofy dance, revelling in its geekiness – other kids, two middle-aged women, an older guy – all loving it. Loving this moment. Loving life.
I wish I felt like that. Could feel like that. And with Tariq I think I nearly was.
I down the dregs of my Coke. I want to talk to Jack. It’s weird, but seeing Elliot so happy makes me want that same happiness so badly that I know I somehow have to sort my head out. Jack seems like he’s dealing with it better than me – maybe I should listen to him, take a leaf out of his book; maybe he knows the secret, I don’t know. What I do know is that this feeling, this wanting to talk, this sense that Jack will get me, well, that’s a lot like what we used to have before we stopped speaking. And that means “barely friends” was pretty unforgivable. We’re friends. He’s my friend.
The cool evening air hits me as I push through the main exit and out into the car park. But there’s no sign of Jack. I mooch around the cars, head round the side of the building, past a side door which has old beer kegs and drink crates stacked outside. And then further up, in the orange glow from a street light, I see Jack and some other lad, in silhouette, snogging up against the wall. I watch for, like, five seconds, my stomach churning, then quickly turn and head back the way I came.
Maybe he was never that into Dylan at all. How can he be all over some other guy so quickly? I can’t even think of doing that right now. And not just because of Tariq. It takes me ages to really like someone enough to even think about kissing them. And I’m not judging Jack, I totally respect that everyone has their own way of doing things, but it makes me wonder, is there really any point in talking to him after all? If he’s already over it, maybe he never really cared anyway? Is there even a chance we can still be mates? Or have we just drifted apart too much in the last few years? And I don’t know, I don’t know, but I know I feel funny about seeing Jack kiss that boy, and I don’t know what that feeling is, and I don’t know why it’s making me feel bad, but somehow it feels like a betrayal, just like it somehow felt like a betrayal when he came out in year nine, and I don’t understand it and I don’t like it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JACK
Connor is not what I would call a good kisser. He’s quite bitey, a bit like an overenthusiastic puppy, and at the same time quite slurpy and sucky. “Slow down,” I tell him. “I’m not chicken ramen.”
He stops and pulls back. “Ah, sorry.”
He’s cute. Roughly my age. Red T-shirt and grey fleece shorts, which is a boy-next-door type of look that I really like – totally opposite to uber-jock Dylan, but all the better for it. He was sitting by himself when I walked outside feeling miserable and like I had to be any place except near Nate and Elliot as they fall in love. Nate made his feelings very clear when he said we were “barely friends”, so it’s stupid really, but I guess some part of me was starting to think we were getting back to how things used to be. I see how he is with Elliot, though, and I realize that’s not gonna happen. Our friendship is long gone. I annoy him too much. There’s too much baggage. Hell, maybe I can’t really forgive him for everything that’s gone on.
This lad glanced up as he heard the main doors open, then looked me up and down. I’m used to that reaction with some of my outfits, but I feel this one is particularly subtle. I mean, I’m wearing chinos, for goodness’ sake – skinny fit, sure, but still. And just a nice plain T-shirt … with great big writing on the front which reads:
I BOYS
Mwah! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Literally no one has batted an eyelid at it all night, so I was glad this boy had, because what’s the point if no one so much as tuts as you? And
