“You are my friend,” I tell him.
“Yeah. You are my friend,” he says.
I gently rub his back with my hand. “You know, I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me. I thought you maybe felt betrayed that I hadn’t spoken to you about it first, or that maybe you didn’t want other people to see us hanging out and think you were gay too.”
“It wasn’t that,” Nate says.
“That’s why I backed off. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“And I thought you backed off because you had your new LGBT friends, and they were better and more fun and sparkly than I could ever dare to be, ’cause I was too scared to be myself. But I didn’t hate you, Jack. Not really. I wanted us to be friends. I kept quiet, kept my head down, and didn’t speak to you out of self-preservation – first because of the bullies, and then because I was trying to convince myself I didn’t want it anyway because that was the only way to keep my messed-up head together. But, really, not having you … I was heartbroken.”
I take a deep, unsteady breath, my throat tight. “Me too. Losing you as a friend broke my heart too.”
“I understand if you can’t, but could you, maybe … forgive me?” he asks in a small voice.
“Nate, I forgive you. Like, totally, it’s not even…” I squeeze him closer. “The people I’ll never forgive are the ones who made you feel like you didn’t have a choice, and who robbed us of all these years when we could have been there for each other.” I sigh. “Fuck me, why are we still in a situation where some people have such a goddamn problem with who other people love? It’s frickin’ insane.”
Nate sniffs, pulls back from me a bit and wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Huh. Maybe this trip was a good thing after all.”
I smile at him and ruffle his ridiculous bed-head hair. “I promise, I won’t ever leave you behind again, Nate.”
“Well, I wouldn’t let you!” Nate smiles. “You’re stuck with me now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
NATE
It’s late, it’s raining, but Jack, Elliot and me are happy as can be, snuggled in our tent with blankets and hot chocolate. Having Jack back as a friend, and getting all that out in the open, it feels so good. It feels like I don’t even care so much about Tariq now, because I’ve gained something way better. I’ve got Jack back. The Dream Team: reunited.
While we were queuing for the dairy-free hot chocolates, I bit the bullet. “Elliot,” I said. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
Elliot chuckled. “Ahh, man, you don’t have to apologize. I kissed you too!”
“Now it all comes out!” Jack declared.
“Jack, hush!” I said. “I know, but what I’m trying to say is—”
“Nate,” Elliot said. “Here’s the thing, OK? In that moment, you were happy, am I right? It was a nice moment. Nice atmosphere. And you felt what you felt, and what you felt was joy, and I think when you feel joy, I think you should always grab it with both hands and enjoy it. And that’s what you were doing.”
I mean, I was taken aback for a moment, because Elliot is not normally calm enough to make this much sense. “OK, sure, Elliot,” I said. “But I did kiss you, and maybe I should have hugged you instead?”
“Why?” said Elliot.
“Because a kiss is … a romantic thing?”
Elliot shrugged. “Meh. Sometimes it is. I don’t think it always has to mean you want to totally get with the person you’re kissing though. There are different types of love after all – it’s not all about HUH! AH! HUH! BONKING!” He said that bit way too loudly. People looked. And he was doing this weird thing where he was miming riding a horse, kind of thrusting his hips, with a lasso in his hand. I’m not sure if Elliot’s school did sex education.
“We’re not with him,” Jack tells some onlookers. “Sorry, who even are you? Can you stop following us, please?”
Elliot chuckles. “It’s OK, Nate. I’m really not looking for anything like that with anyone right now.” He smiles. “I’m just working stuff out really.”
“Huh. OK. Cool,” I said.
“Good kiss, though!” He winked at me. “Better than … THE TREE HOUSE KISS-A-THON! WAAAAHH!”
“Oh my god,” I mutter.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Kiss-a-thon? Huh.”
Thankfully, by this time it was our turn to order, so we all got distracted with options for gelatine-free marshmallows and chocolate flakes.
I tip my cup up so the last of the rich, velvety goo slides down into my mouth.
“Boys,” Jack says, “I think today has been a great day, and I think this trip, although it started in a somewhat challenging fashion, has been excellent. And so, partly in the hope that things only get more fabulous and even better, we must give appropriate thanks.”
“Who to?” I ask.
“To our rainbow-sparkled, glitter-encrusted Gay Lord, of course,” Jack grins. “Legs together, eyes closed.”
So we all sit there, eyes closed, while Jack does his thing.
“Our Gaylord,
Who art in the nightclub known as Heaven,
Fabulous be thy name.
Give us this day
Our daily skincare regime,
And forgive us for belting show tunes,
As we forgive those who don’t appreciate the wonder of just browsing round Whole Foods for the fun of it.
Lead us not into a Toby Carvery,
And deliver us from DFS,
For we can’t abide an unlimited salad cart and we like our furniture bespoke.
In the name of Madonna, Britney and the Lady Gaga,
Beyoncé.”
“Beyoncé,” Elliot and I repeat.
Now, I am not a religious guy, in fact, none of us are, but at that very moment my phone pings through with a message, and it’s Leila confirming she’s got us on the guest list for the YouTubers party in London. I turn to Jack. “It seems your prayers have been answered!” I grin.
My mum doesn’t even blink when I ask her about going
