Fuck.
“So, tonight, we’re going to a youth night at a gay club in town. Ends at midnight so you’ll still get plenty of beauty sleep and God knows you need it.’ I hoicked up the box I was carrying and trailed behind her. This was familiar territory for us. Skye called and I followed. From the moment we met she stirred something amazing in me. Magical and unfathomable. I wanted to be my best self around her, for her, for only her. Truth be told, she scared me when we first met. Stacey introduced me to her as the funniest guy I know. You’re going to love him. She stared at me like I’d just told her I had a deep-rooted family connection to Jack The Ripper. She was all harsh scowls and piercings, unless she was with her brother and she showed her heart was wider than the ocean and just as deep.
“I’ve made you a BLT sandwich and there’s a piece of strawberry tart to keep you going.”
“You mean bribe me.”
“Nope, just making it worth your while to be here.” She winked and I was gone. She could have dressed me as a condom and I wouldn’t have cared. “Are you with me?” she asked, breaking me from my daydream where Skye wanted more from me, from us and could see past the nerdy glasses and awkward social cues.
“Always with you,” I uttered as she shook her head.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing,” I replied, catching up with her. She was carrying two boxes, one stacked on top of the other, and had barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, I was huffing and puffing and ready to nip into the local bar for a refreshing pint.
“You don’t have to come, Will,” she said. “I understand you probably have a million other things to do on a Friday night.” I didn’t like to say that I had nothing else to do because all I wanted to do was spend time with her, so I just ummed a bit and added a shrug. The truth was, I couldn’t do enough for her. Volunteering had become a way of life. If it wasn’t handing out condoms and lube it was litter picking on Brighton beach or finding myself doing a shift at the café. I was considering qualifying as a dog groomer just to be trapped in the van with her. I couldn’t do enough for Skye. I needed her. Even if all she gave me were eye rolls and snark. I loved those eye rolls and snark, loved her sharp tongue and hard exterior. But I knew she was lace behind leather. Bach inside a rock-and-roll front.
“You know there is nowhere else I’d rather be on a Friday night than handing out lube to teenagers, because that won’t be awkward at all.” I fell into our default position. Banter. Deadpan comments. It made it easier to accept she’d never be mine if we role-played barely tolerating each other.
She turned to me, her huge skirt twirling with her. “We’re spreading the word, not just handing out lube. Safe sex. Being careful. Not taking risks. That’s important, Will.” Ah, she was lovely. Fighting for a cause. Keeping her brother’s memory alive. Nostrils flaring and ready to go. “Come on.”
I couldn’t pinpoint the time when I fell in love with Skye. It may have been from the moment we met and she asked me if I was trying to get into Stacey’s pants. Before I could answer no she followed up by threatening me with castration if I messed her around. The words, “I know your game,” were uttered menacingly under her breath but through a smile. I’d never seen anything like it. For the first year our friendship could only be described as a work in progress. She enjoyed winding me up and I enjoyed retaliating. Stace wasn’t the first woman I’d had a platonic relationship with. Girls at school found me funny and cute. I built on this, realising that a good sense of humour was a way into the magical world of sexual experiences. To be honest, I was thankful when a woman showed me any sort of sexual interest. When I eventually lost my virginity, I thanked my girlfriend mid-orgasm.
Skye wasn’t my usual type and the more time our friendship developed, it quickly dawned on me that I wasn’t hers either. She once dated a bodybuilder who had a tattoo of Satan wrestling a python down one arm. She also favoured punks and bikers and once introduced me to a boyfriend affectionately known as Knuckles. So, when I started to develop feelings for her, I tried to dismiss them, knowing she wouldn’t be interested in a journalist working for a photography magazine who collected superhero comics and had an obsession with Star Wars.
I would try to avoid a cliché, but fuck my life seemed appropriate for this situation.
“Right, we’re here,” she said, stopping outside a nightclub with bright pink doors. “Don’t act weird, OK?”
“That’s going to be quite a stretch for me,” I replied.
“I know. Just don’t scare the teenagers.” She turned her back to the door and pushed it open with her splendid bum. “Follow me.”
As soon as we entered the building, music pulsed through my ears and I was thankful when we were taken to a small room at the back of the club.
