I glare at him. How dare he know things about me that I keep excellently hidden? “That’s only true of magnetic poles, Elliot. Do I look like a magnet?” He opens his mouth to speak but I put a finger to his lips. “The answer is that although, granted, many have described my personality as ‘magnetic’ I am, in fact, not an actual magnet.”
I turn with a flourish and disappear into the heaving crowd. And then I let myself smile. I can’t help being pleased about what Elliot said. It’s always good to get corroboration for your silly lustings. But what the hell is going on with Nate? Happy enough to kiss Elliot, but apparently still devastated over Tariq? There’s one thing to take comfort from, though, I guess: I’m kind of glad someone else’s head seems to be as messed up as mine currently is.
“Knockety-knock-knock!” I say, as I poke my head into our tent.
Nate looks up from where he’s sitting, knees drawn up to his chin, eyes red and puffy.
I shuffle into the tent and pop myself down next to him. “Oh dear,” I say. “Tariq strikes again, huh?”
Nate shakes his head.
“Look,” I continue, “the whole promise rings thing is naff, if you really want my opinion. Admittedly, I thought it was romantic when I tried to give Dylan one at prom, but I’m older now, more mature and sophisticated, and I see it for what it really is.”
Nate sniffs.
“It’ll take time to get over Tariq, and that’s OK, Nate, it’s OK—”
“It’s not about Tariq!” Nate splutters.
“Ohhhhh!” I say. My heart quickens. If it’s not about Tariq, it can only be either Elliot or … well, I doubt it’s me. But now I’m on edge. I should never allow hope to rear its head – that’s how you get hurt. So I do what I do best and deflect by flicking open the complimentary branded fan I picked up from the vegan sausage company on my way here. “Tell Auntie Jack all about it.”
“What the hell is that?” Nate says.
“It’s a fan, Nate. It’s very humid in here. It must be all your evaporated tears.”
Nate narrows his eyes at me. “Or maybe it’s because of all the extra body heat now you’ve come in? Did you know you produce the equivalent of a two-bar electric fire?”
I flick the fan closed again. “How dare you? At the very least I’m a gas-flame-effect fire, if not a Scandinavian wood-burning stove.” I flick the fan back open and wave it at my face. Genuinely, it is feeling hot in here and my mouth is really dry. “Seriously, what’s the matter?”
Nate looks up at me briefly, then buries his face in his knees again.
“Come on, what is it?” I continue more softly.
He’s unresponsive. I tentatively shuffle a bit closer, good and slow, like you would approach a junkyard dog, and put my arm across his shoulders. He tenses. “Nate?” I murmur.
“Go away.”
I sigh, but stay where I am.
“Seriously, Jack. Just leave me.”
I remove my arm from his shoulders, reach into my bag, and retrieve two Curly Wurlys. I open one and hand it to him, but I have to hold it there for a good ten seconds before he relents and accepts it from me. I smile, open my own and have a chew. “Your mum told me you liked these,” I say.
“Yeah, well.”
“You’ve got so many hidden layers, Nate!”
He glares me.
“You’re like an onion!”
“Jack.”
“So complex and—”
“Well, you’re a—”
“What am I, Nate? Oh, please pick something suggestive! An aubergine?”
“No—”
“A banana?” I fake gasp. “Or maybe something exotic? A kiwi fruit? A cantaloupe melon?”
Nate finally laughs. “You’re a nightmare.”
“Yes, but you love me.” Our eyes meet, I swallow and I look down. I’ve said the L-word before, jokingly, but now I can feel myself wanting some different response from Nate, and I don’t like it.
“I always feel like I’m being left behind,” Nate mutters.
I look back up at him.
“Everyone else seems to have their lives together; they know what they want, and they’re going out there and they’re getting it,” he continues. “It’s not Tariq and Dylan as such, like... I get it now, they’re in love and Tariq’s dumped me, I get it, and it’s not that. It’s just the fact they’ve each found someone they want to do that with, and me…” He sighs and looks down.
“It’s not a race, Nate.”
He’s still looking down. “It’s not just this. It’s everything. It’s me coming out at prom, when…” His voice is barely a whisper. “…when you came out in year nine, and I wanted to as well, Jack, I wanted to, but I was scared—”
“I know, Nate, you told me that, but—”
“But it’s more than that! You went ahead, and you were so bold and confident, and I wanted to come with you, but I couldn’t do it, so I was just stuck, sitting in my room, while you were out there, being you, living your life, and I was so envious and so jealous. I wanted that so much, but I…” His head slumps down further with a huge sigh.
I stare at him. I had no idea. I move closer to him again, put my arms around him and pull him into me. “I didn’t… I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“It’s not your fault,” he says into my shoulder. “It’s me. I just couldn’t… I wasn’t in the same place as you. And I’m sorry too actually, because I ended up hating you for it. I hated you, Jack, and that’s just another reason I stopped talking to you. It started as fear, but then it grew into something so much more … poisonous. When I saw how much crap you were getting, I was actually glad, because I saw what it could be like, and I thanked god that wasn’t me. Thanked god I’d kept quiet. How horrible is that? That’s what sadness does to you, I reckon. Eats you
