JACK
Elliot’s gone off to score some dessert, so I’m sitting alone on the sand when Nate comes stomping up and flops down on to the sand next to me.
“Huh,” he says.
“Nice chat with Daddy?” I ask.
He sort of nods. Then he turns to me. “Jack? Serious question, no pissing about, who’s your perfect guy? Like, I’m talking romantically, what type of person would you go for? Be honest.”
He catches me off guard with this one. I could just tell him, of course. I could just say, “You,” and get it all out there. But what if I’m wrong? What if that would be too much, too soon? At the same time, I need to actually say it, else how will he know? I guess I can always say it, and then turn it into a joke at the end, if it looks like that’s what I need to do. “Well, Nate,” I begin. “He would be … around my height, maybe just fractionally shorter. My sort of build. No abs, he wouldn’t really work out or be bothered about hitting the gym all the time because that just wouldn’t be something that was important to him. He’d have light brown hair, that he would probably describe as nondescript, but which I’d describe as beautiful…” I glance at Nate, and he’s staring back me, a small smile playing on his lips. “It would be styled pretty much the way it naturally fell, but that would be cool, because the way it naturally fell would be awesome. He would be kind, but he wouldn’t describe himself as kind. He would be intelligent, but in a way that wasn’t measured by exams. He would beat himself up relentlessly over every little thing because he would be an overthinker who cared too much, and he would have within him so much love and so much happiness waiting to burst out.” I glance at Nate. He swallows. I slowly move my hand, so it’s on top of his. “He would be called Nate, and I would have loved him, so much for so long, I just never got round to telling him, because being honest can be hard when you’ve got so much to lose, and when so many people see that as weakness and take advantage, being that vulnerable takes more courage than I usually feel like I’ve got. But I do love him. And…” I swallow hard.
Silence.
Just the gentle lap of the waves on the shore.
Stillness.
And then, slowly, Nate leans towards me…
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
NATE
I lean into him, and then…
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
JACK
Finally…
CHAPTER FIFTY
JACK & NATE
We kiss.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
NATE
It’s one kiss. One, beautiful, slow, lingering, kiss on the lips. And I’m shaking, I’m actually trembling, but it’s joy pumping through my veins. It’s the barely believable, spectacular realization that this isn’t just happening, it’s right. All these feelings are colliding and they’re crazy and weird and, yeah, kind of terrifying, but they’re also stars-in-my-eyes brilliant because this, this is what it really feels like. To be in love. To be with the right person. To be happy.
And then we’re just staring into each other’s eyes, smiling.
“What?” Jack says, after a bit.
“What?”
“No, seriously, what?”
I chuckle. “I’m happy. Are you?”
“Jesus, Nate! It’s only taken sixteen years!” Jack laughs. “But I’m glad. Me too.”
I hear the crunch of feet on sand. “La, la, la! Just returning from picking up some dessert!” Elliot says, nice and loudly, carrying a big bowl of freshly fried mini-doughnuts. “Oh, HI, GUYS! Here you are!” He looks between us and lowers his voice. “I wasn’t sure whether to come back, I said to the doughnut guy, ‘Do you think there’ll be more kissing?’ but it looked like you’d stopped, so, here I am!” He nods at us. “But I can totally go if you want?”
We both laugh.
“Aw,” Elliot says. “Look at you two, laughing in unison. His and his laughter! Cuuuuute!” He puts the doughnuts down and reaches into his rucksack. “Also … TA-DA!” He pulls out two golden plastic crowns. “I was going to do this anyway, whether you got together or not, and I was obviously hoping you would, because frankly the sexual tension on this trip has been mental and I reckon we would all have exploded if you didn’t kiss just now, but since prom was so horrible for you both, we’re going to do what should have been done then.” He stands up. “Please both kneel so I can crown you, our prom princes!”
We do as we’re told, and Elliot places a crown on each of our heads. And that’s the moment the little band further up the beach start playing “Embers” by Owl City.
I instinctively turn to Jack.
He’s sheepish. “I went to ask them if they’d play it while you were chatting to your dad.” So weird, seeing this side of him – almost embarrassed, slightly awkward, and he can’t quite look at me. He flicks his eyes up to mine. “Our song, right?”
Right. A song that’s been an unhappy memory for so long, not just because of what anyone said at that year seven disco, but because it’s everything Jack and I once were, everything we lost, both in ourselves and with each other.
Well, tonight, Jack and Nate are back. Tonight, we fly. Tonight, anything is possible, and I want to drink in this feeling for ever. I jump up and thrust my hand out for him to take. At first he just stares, and then, seeing I’m serious, he smiles. He takes my hand and I pull him to his feet. “Let’s dance,” I say.
Jack isn’t holding back. He’s right there, jumping up and down as soon as the chorus kicks in. I used the word “dancing” but it was always more like we were deep in the mosh pit – it’s hardly choreographed, it’s just … fun. Joyful.
Elliot doesn’t need any encouragement to join in, and I sure as hell don’t either. I bounce up alongside Jack and I don’t care, it’s our
