Chapter Text
Don't know much about history
Don't know much biology
Don't know much about a science book,
Don't know much about the french I took
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me, too,
What a wonderful world this would be
(Sam Cooke. What a Wonderful World ,1960)
Mandag, 19.30
To misquote the words of the old 60's song, Chris doesn’t know much about history, biology, the inside of a science book, or much at all about the French he took; but he does know that he likes it when the guys get their kit off in the showers at the Plaza gym.
He likes it when they look over, clock him watching them, and beckon him over with their eyes. He knows he likes it when they make room for him and check him out as he tips back his head and washes out his hair.
There’s always someone to play with here.
He likes it when he’s soaping a guy’s cock, feeling it swell and harden under his touch, and rubbing it all over his own muscled stomach until the guy is a groaning mess in his hands. He likes pumping a guy off using just his fingers, holding him squeezed tightly between thumb and forefinger to hold him off for as long as possible before the guy comes over his chest or on his cheek, depending on whether he’s hot enough for Chris to get on his knees for.
Personally he likes rubbing himself against a guy’s bare ass, thrusting slickly along the groove of his cheeks and up his back; he won’t fuck because condoms are a nightmare in showers, and he likes the thrill of almost barebacking, the skin-to-skin sensation of thrusting against a guy, feeling him squirm with the pressure, holding his hips still to quicken the feeling right up until he’s losing it, shooting over the guy’s back and banging out the last drops against his buttocks.
He likes it when he’s squeezing a cock in each hand, while he kisses another guy in front of him, he likes being groped and pulled at, men licking warmly over his neck and mouth, he likes kissing in a group with two, three tongues in his mouth, hands grazing over his ass and his stomach, feeling his own cock butt and knock at the thighs pressed against his.
When he really wants to party he likes to kneel under the shower spray so that the guys can take turns rubbing their dicks between his pretty, full lips; he loves the way a cock can slide in and out of his mouth so easily in water, nuzzling greedily over his face and closed eyes. He won’t swallow, so he’ll generally spit if a guy gets over-excited while he’s in his mouth, but to be honest he likes the feeling best when a guy comes on his face, drizzling over his forehead and down his cheek, warm and sticky and easily washed away.
He doesn’t do well with emotion, he’s not in to hand-holding or going on dates or making playlists for someone, any of that shit, hell he’d probably never date a guy in real life. He does it with girls sometimes but he hates all the boring meeting parents and having to go to stuff because she wants you to, and the do you love me phone calls and the constant hassle of it all. But he does like those short, hard conquests that he gets at the gym, he likes it hard and dirty and preferably from behind, pressed up against the shower wall sucking on a guy’s fingers as the guy ruts his cock against Chris’s ass or fucks his thighs in a mess of soap and bubbles.
There are guys in real life that he likes, there’s Isak, for instance, and a couple of people in the Penetrator squad, but it would be awkward, it’s not like it is here, free and easy and no questions asked. The freedom to bring off a guy using your mouth and fingers without worrying about the morning after. You don’t have to worry about anybody seeing you, anybody knowing the mess you’re making of your life, all the things you’re failing at, all the worries and doubts that you’re keeping so firmly pressed inside. And you don’t need to think about them either, for the short time you’re with them, you’re so concentrated on getting all that admiration reflected back on you.
All you need to show them is your game, and Chris has plenty of that.
Too much thinking, Chris tells himself firmly, and steps into the arms of the tallest guy, giving him one of those looks.
Tirsdag, 3.45pm
Eva doesn’t know much, but she knows she loves it when she’s got Noora down in bed with her, Noora’s soft thighs pressing each side of her face, as Eva gives her head with one wet finger pressed deep in her ass. She knows she loves it when Noora bucks up into her mouth, pressing herself against Eva’s lips so that she’s riding her tongue with jerky, greedy movements, her short sharp gasps telling Eva that she’s close. She knows she loves it when Noora’s hands are scrabbling through her hair, holding her head in position, guiding her to the right angle of her hotspot by pulling and pushing; not there, there! yes here, more, more, keep going …
Eva loves it when she’s lying on top of Noora afterwards, lips still smeared with her taste and smell, looking down at Noora’s fucked-out, flushed face and lazy, bewildered smile. Noora’s lipstick has rubbed off all over Eva’s mouth and fingers and her hair’s standing on end like a haystack. I wonder if she looks like this just after William fucks her, thinks Eva. I wonder if her breath catches like she’s choking when she’s about to come. I wonder if he sees her skin turn bright pink when she’s on the edge, or how her stomach swells and she thrashes around when she’s coming apart.
“What are you thinking about?” murmurs Noora softly, winding a sprig of Eva’s hair around her fingers. Eva’s had it cut short, not as short as a boy’s, but not far off, and Noora can’t stop touching it.
“Nothing,” says Eva, but Noora grins, her wide, teasing smile, tugging at Eva’s hair until she forces her to look up. “I know it’s not nothing. Is it about William?”
“No, no, no!” protests Eva, but Noora is no fool, she knows every expression on her girlfriend’s face, recognises every little seismic change of emotion that she sees there. “We’re over, Eva. I told you. He’s a dick, and he’s gone back to London.”
“You just seemed so happy when he was here,” begins Eva gruffly, staring at the duvet, but Noora grabs her and holds her, hands cupped each side of her face, beautiful lake-blue eyes staring into hers in a way that always makes Eva’s stomach flip.
“Yeah, I was happy, but that was because I didn’t know him, Eva. I thought I knew him, but I didn’t. But I know you, babe. I know everything about you. And that’s what makes this so good.”
And it is good, Eva knows this, it’s good when Noora’s standing pressed against her in the shower later, long fingers gently exploring between Eva’s legs. Noora’s good at this, she used to play piano and now she plays Eva like her own song, fingertips softly circling around every inch of her, stroking between her legs, sliding up and down in the groove from her ass to her clit, working out her sweet-spot until Eva moans and cries. Eva isn’t very good at coming standing up, so Noora’s got one arm around her and Eva’s got one leg up jammed against the wall of the shower, and Noora’s kissing up and down Eva’s neck, lips softly skating over the water coursing down their bodies, and from time to time sucking a bruise into her neck. Eva can feel Noora’s sharp teeth nipping at her skin, relieved by the way she swirls her tongue over the bitten area to cool it. Eva’s got one arm thrown around Noora’s neck, and Noora’s blonde hair is a sodden mass in Eva’s hand, and as she pulls at it she can hear Noora gasp in that way she likes so much.
She loves the way that Noora fucks her, slender fingers rhythmically sliding between her legs, alternating between soft sweeps over her hardened clit, and deep plunges inside her. Noora’s whispering in her ear too, whether it’s filthy stuff or loving stuff, Eva can’t make out much of it over the drumming of the shower but she knows it’s for her, all for her. And it’s the feeling of having Noora on her, inside her, owning her and working her that tips her over the edge, and she’s shaking as she comes, but all of a sudden her leg gives out, and they’re slipping down in a heap on the bottom of the shower, laughing hysterically.
Eskild bangs on the bathroom door and peeks through, wiping the steam off the shower door. He screams.
“OH MY GOD THERE ARE LESBIANS IN THE SHOWER!”
“Fuck off, Eskild!” shout Noora and Eva in unison.
Onsdag, 8.20
It’s early morning and Chris is awake with a boner the size of a baby’s arm. He’s lying there, hand sliding lazily up and down his sizeable cock, fingers tugging around the head, one hand behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
There’s no one here to share it with, it’s too early to go cruising, and Tinder or Grindr aren’t even active yet. He delves into his personal wank-bank of mental images stored over the past year; flicking through his mental charts of guys and girls that stand out for him; Iben, Ingrid, Isak, Julian, Sara …
But he’d be up for a little sexting, why the fuck not.
He pulls out his phone, takes a close-up of his cock, and fires it off.
Onsdag, 8.30
Eva doesn’t remember a time that she hasn’t been in love with Noora now, and she remembers even less when she’s on her back in the bathtub, with Noora sitting on top of her, thighs wound around hers, they’re in the perfect position where Noora’s rutting herself up and down Eva’s thigh, rubbing herself against the delicate bone of her hip. Noora’s back is arched, one hand on either side of Eva on the edge of the bath, soap suds coursing down her titties; Eva’s massaging her thumb into Noora’s soft stomach feeling her muscles brace against it, it helps Noora come easier. Eva’s watching Noora’s eyelids droop as she pants against her hard and fast; Eva’s not going to come in this position but she doesn’t care, she’s storing up images of Noora like fuel against a winter’s day.
And titties; how did Eva never realise before how amazing they are, especially Noora’s. Noora’s are perfect handfuls, jutting out from her body with shy pink nipples that Eva loves to tease into hard peaks. She licks up under the curve of Noora’s breast and traces her tongue over the aureole, hearing Noora’s blunt intake of breath as she does so. Eva grins to herself, feeling her nipple harden on her tongue as she begins to suck, at first gently then harder, tongue swirling around the cone of the nipple, alternating with humming around the curve of her breast that makes Noora laugh and shiver. “You’re tickling me!”
Eva’s so far gone that she doesn’t hear the ping of a text on her phone, and she only realises something’s wrong when Noora slows down and abruptly climbs off her. She blinks her eyes open, confused. Noora’s sitting up on the side of the bath, looking at her phone, surprised.
“Why is P-Chris sending you dick-pics?” Noora asks coldly.
Eva gapes and grabs for the phone but Noora holds it away, her eyes changing from hot to icy. Eva stammers. “It’s not anything … he sends me stupid shit from time to time. Last year when I broke up with Jonas, he wanted nudes, but I didn’t send any, so he started sending me dick pics.”
She feels irritated more than alarmed; he hasn’t sent any pictures for months, why now? For a while she enjoyed getting new photos of his dick, but after she didn’t respond Chris kind of tailed off. When she broke up with Jonas it made her feel wanted and she enjoyed getting herself off over them for a bit, Chris has got a pretty good-looking cock, a highkey Instagrammable dick in fact, but let’s be real here, girls aren’t generally all about the visuals, there’s gotta be a bit more to it, so when Eva got together with Noora she ended up ghosting Chris, and now for some reason, here he is again, firing back a picture of his morning wood in its full glory.
To be fair, she hadn’t actually told Chris she was seeing Noora, or seeing anybody for that matter. She hasn’t actually told many people outside of her circle, because it’s all too new, too real for her; her mum isn’t going to understand, or think that she’s going through a phase, or she’s influenced by a popular TV show and playing at being a fashionable bisexual. Or think that she’s taking a leaf out of Isak’s book; he’s the first one to come out in their year, and at some level, she’s worried that people will think that all this, all this stuff with Noora, isn’t true.
“Block him,” says Noora, but Eva already has.
Fredag, 23.30
Eva doesn’t care anymore when they’re at the party; she’s sitting on Noora’s knee kissing the curve of her neck and licking around her ear, feeling Noora squirm and giggle as she probes her tongue as deep as possible.
“Looks like you two are getting on quite well,” says Chris, strolling up to them, holding a beer, killer look at the ready.
Noora flicks Eva a glance that says, Deal with this, or I will.
“We’re together now,” says Eva, winding her arm possessively around Noora’s shoulders. “Have been for a while.”
Chris’s face lights up; he grins his stupid, idiotic, sexy grin, and tilts his head back, watching Eva from underneath hooded but sharply-interested eyes. “Yeah? Can I watch?”
Eva shoots him dead-eye glares. “Of course you can’t, what do you think we are, a porn channel?”
Chris shrugs. “I’ve seen girls doing it. I’m all for it. Female liberation and all that.”
Noora’s had enough; she won’t let boys get away with their shit in front of her. “Talk about objectification all you like. I’ve heard your reputation in the gym shower,” she snarks at him.
Chris looks momentarily alarmed. “What have you heard?”
“Oh, that you’re the boy’s byke in the Plaza Gym showers,” says Noora airily. “Or so Eskild says.”
Chris’s eyes widen. Who the fuck is Eskild? But Noora’s looking at him, eyes narrowed, and Chris can sense that it’s useless to deny it, she knows. Jesus, which one was Eskild again? He searches his memory for regulars. He never asks names, that’s one step too many along the path to intimacy. The small twink? The tall dark-haired guy? Who knows.
Noora’s squinting at him, enjoying his surprise. “So you like boys now?”
“I like girls too,” said Chris, too surprised to say anything but the truth.
“Ah, confused about your sexuality then,” starts Noora, but Chris hates this stupid expression more than anything, and folds his arms. “I’m not confused,” he says, pissed. “Why, are you?”
“I’m not confused,” says Noora. “I’ve liked Eva since the moment I saw her.”
Eva is watching all this in amazement. “Chris, do you like boys or girls?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Why should I have to choose?” asks Chris defensively. “I like sex with guys, I just don’t want to go out with one, that’s all.”
“You don’t want to go out with girls either,” snaps Noora angrily. “You just want to fuck them, or send them dick pics when they’re with their new fucking girlfriend.”
“Mmm, well you may have a point,” says Chris. “So I take it a threesome is entirely out of the question?”
And okay he’s winding them up now, and he really isn’t that surprised when Noora’s drink sails out of her glass and all over his face.
Lørdag, 0.03
Left alone outside, cleaning himself up with his T-shirt, Chris broods over a beer.
He loves sex but he really doesn’t want to date; but everyone around him is dating, or would want to date if he had sex with them. Which is just not Chris’s thing. As soon as someone wants to get serious, he’s off. Is it something wrong with him? Or has he somehow evolved past the need to date and gone straight to the self-realisation of instant orgasm?
He can see Isak, leaning on the balcony wall in his favourite white hoodie. He’s talking to someone around the corner, and shamelessly flirting, his hand’s playing with the drawstring in his hoodie, pulling it up and down, and he’s laughing a little too brightly, showing his pretty teeth and leaning on the wall provocatively.
Chris draws closer, entranced. Isak’s putting out, he can see; although from here he can’t see who he’s chatting to, but he’s pretty sure that whoever it is isn’t a match for him on full charm offensive. He’ll just swing over there and charm Isak away, and into bed no problem.
He likes the way Isak looks, he’s tugged himself off plenty over sights of Isak in football kit or tight jeans, and if he had to date anyone with a gun held to his head, then it would probably be him. And he knows Isak likes him, he’s seen Isak looking at him covertly and then flicking his glance away, but Chris’s rep with girls is so watertight that Isak hasn’t ever made a move on him, not that he would anyway, being so repressed and all. Chris keeps expecting to bump into him at the showers or any of Oslo’s cruising grounds, but he’s not struck lucky so far.
And Isak isn’t dating anyone as far as Chris knows, so seriously, why the fuck not. He steps around the corner and raises his eyebrows in a sexy hey, look who’s here, one hand suggestively in his pocket, the other pushing his hair out of his eyes.
Neither Isak nor the object of his affection turn to look at him.
Oh shit, thinks Chris at the first sight of the guy Isak’s talking to; a tall blond guy who looks like a model, probably is a fucking model, with hips and an ass to die for, die in rather. He’s got swept-up hair in a quiff and a face that is prettier than most girls he’s ever seen; beautiful lips stretched in a permanently adoring smile, leaning one finely-sculpted cheek on the back of his fist as he watches Isak chatter absolute fucking nonsense.
Fuck, thinks Chris, now I would date that. I would go to a million parents’ dinners and boring concerts and endless shopping trips if it meant I had a chance with him.
But something in the way the guy’s looking at Isak and the fact he barely acknowledges Chris’s presence even though he’s got his hottest shirt on and his hair styled in the way that nobody can resist, Chris knows he isn’t on the guy’s radar by any means. And now he’s got Isak perched on his knee, one hand stroking at his abs underneath his shirt, and now Isak’s giggling, pulling at his hair and pressing little, stupid-kitten kisses all over his lips and rocking himself teasingly over the guy’s hips, and Chris literally cannot look away.
When Isak finally clocks him, turns and shoots him a narrow stare, a get-the-fuck-away-from-my-mans glare, Chris is too stunned to press it, he simply turns on his heel and leaves them to it.
Jesus, why is everyone in the universe dating apart from him?
“Who’s that guy Isak’s with?” asks Chris of Magnus a short time later. Magnus is sitting disconsolately near the drinks table, nursing a small warm beer, watching Vilde dance clumsily, her arms above her head, her head rolling theatrically from side to side. It’s oddly adorable and Magnus can’t take his eyes off her.
“That guy? Oh that’s his new boyfriend, Even,” says Magnus, without taking his eyes off Vilde for a second.
Chris walks off, and doesn’t see Magnus’s cheek flame scarlet as he bites his lip.
Why did Chris have to bring up Even, of all people.
Magnus doesn’t know much, but he knows he’s not gay, at least he thinks about pussy waaaay too much to really be a hundred percent gay … or even seventy-five percent gay … or fuck it even ninety percent gay … but since Even started hanging around with Isak he thinks he might have a little, tiny, weeny crush on his mate’s boyfriend.
It’s weird really, Magnus doesn’t go around thinking about guys, doesn’t go around thinking about kissing them or having sex with them at all, in normal life he’s a horny little fucker and permanently trying to chat girls up, so where this comes from he has no clue. Perhaps it’s, like, the novelty of it, the fact that it isn’t that usual to see guys kissing in the street, or maybe it’s the fact that Isak now seems so … open, so happy for a change … so perhaps Magnus is just, you know, interested in gay stuff without, you know, actually being gay.
When Even’s with Isak he makes Magnus’s heartrate speed up a little bit, and he can’t stop looking; watching the way that Even throws his head back when he laughs, the delicacy of the way Even moves, and crosses his legs, and the graceful way he curls himself around Isak that makes Magnus burn with something like interest, and something like … fuck, he doesn’t really know.
And it’s not like he wants to kiss Even or anything, but okay, when he’s in bed at night, alone as always, sometimes he’ll feel himself chub up at a memory of something Even said or did, and okay maybe he’ll start imagining what it would be like to have Even laughing on top of him, or feel him holding him in that warm way he does when he says hi, and – now his imagination is speeding up, keeping pace with his swelling cock – then he does imagine what it would be like to have Even’s mouth on his, his tongue running over his parted lips, or have him kiss down his stomach and feel his soft hair in his hands, Magnus once ran his fingers through Even’s quiff to mess it up as a joke, and regretted it instantly, he wasn’t expecting to enjoy the hard-on it gave him so much …
Fuck, he’s getting a hard-on now just thinking about it, and this really isn’t the time or place …
Tonight’s the night he wants to make a move on Vilde, for fuck’s sake …
And of course Magnus is not gay, so this is ridiculous, look, Vilde’s wearing that dress that shows off the curve of her ass and she’s so pretty tonight, she’s laughing and natural and … Yeah, he’s gonna tap that, he’s definitely gonna …
And this feeling for Even is probably only a bit of a crush, just a tiny little, baby, bi-curious crush, that sometimes explodes into glorious technicolour when he’s lying with his hand running up and down his cock at night, imagining … Jesus, does Isak really get fucked by Even every night?
Magnus has only been thinking about Even for thirty seconds and he’s already got the hugest boner ever.
It’s going to be a bit of a problem if he wants to make his move on Vilde.
But it’s okay, Magnus thinks, you can feel all sorts of levels of attraction to people, and many of them you’ll never act on, you have to act on the one that feels strongest, and healthiest, and best for you … and right now, that best is Vilde.
Vilde is funny, she’s sweet, and importantly, single. Magnus wants to protect her, yeah that sounds stupidly sexist but he does, he knows she has a hard time with her mom and he’s very used to seeing that sadness in her eyes, and sometimes he’ll give anything, everything, to take that sadness away a little bit.
And Even isn’t sad, he’s with Isak, he’s got eyes for no one but Isak, and Isak loves him, he’s told Magnus that, and so honestly there’s no way that Magnus could ever compete, nor ever want to break his best-friend’s heart …
He’s not settling for Vilde, he’s choosing her: there’s choices you have to make in life, you don’t have to pick whatever’s offered to you, you’ve always got control over that. And right now, what’s best for him, what he wants most is Vilde, and so …
Okay, he knows what he’ll do, he’ll go jack off in the toilets to get rid of this Even-centred boner, and then his head will be clear enough to go chat up Vilde when she’s finished her dance. He’ll be calmer and less desperate and he’ll have gotten rid of his backed-up Even-lust and hopefully it’ll be a while before it builds up like that again. And hopefully Vilde will not be put off by him because he won’t be desperate any more. And desperate puts girls off, right?
Yep, that’s the plan. A good plan.
Vilde doesn’t know much, but she knows she liked it when Eva kissed her that night when she was drunk. Okay, not liked it but she didn’t dislike it … all right, yeah she liked it, but it isn’t something she’s particularly wanting more of.
So why is she so bothered by Eva suddenly dating Noora?
Usually the girl squad would all be hanging around together but now it’s just Eva and Noora, sucking each other’s faces in a corner, and Sana isn’t here tonight, and Vilde doesn’t want to sit there like a lemon, or have everyone looking at them, not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian but Vilde’s not a lesbian and she doesn’t want anyone thinking she is, so ...
She looks around for Magnus, but he’s disappeared. She’s a bit offended, she was dancing mainly for his benefit, to try to make him interested enough to make a move, instead of sitting there watching him like a lost puppy.
But Eva’s sitting there watching, Noora’s got her hand up her skirt and one up her top and she’s necking Eva, but Eva’s watching her, she’s taking Vilde in, running her eyes up and down Vilde’s legs, and fuck it, if Vilde isn’t rather enjoying the attention that she’s getting. This is a whole new level for her now, and before she knows it, she’s dancing in front of them, pulling her dress up, running her hands under her breasts, getting closer as she …
But as she leans Eva turns and kisses Noora back. Record scratch. Vilde stands, eyes wide, irritated for the second time in as many minutes. She feels suddenly foolish, although nothing actually happened did it?
Then why does she feel like she’s been dumped?
There’s a tap on her shoulder, and it’s Magnus; eyes like saucers, he’s got a pink, rather flushed face and he looks like he’s been sweating.
“Vilde, can I go out with you?” blurts out Magnus.
Vilde looks him over consideringly. He really is a puppy dog.
“Kiss me first,” she says and pushes her tongue down his throat.
Lørdag 03.30
Chris doesn’t know much, but he knows the best woods to visit to look for sex; on Saturday nights the cruising ground is alive with couples, throuples, men doing it against trees and behind bushes, other guys standing watching them or jerking themselves off to the show. It’s a regular fucking thoroughfare tonight.
He’s finishing up his third blow job of the night, and he’s still annoyed about what Noora’s said to him, and he’s trying to sponge it out of his mind with a good round of cock, but nothing’s really working. He doesn’t want to go home, he doesn’t want to go back to the party, so he’s sitting on the ground, panting, whilst trying to work out how to get the guy in front of him off as quickly as possible.
And he’s wondering why he’s feeling so fucking miserable this week when he’s gotten laid so much, and it’s because he’s remembering the way that Isak looked as he was being held by that new guy of his, all bright and luminous and possessive, he’s remembering the way that Noora slit her eyes at him with her arms around Eva as if she’d deadass kill for her, he’s remembering the way that Magnus stared at Vilde so adoringly as if she was the only girl on the dancefloor.
Nobody’s gonna do that for me, he thinks. Nobody cares that much for me.
Søndag 22.00
Chris is lying with a guy and they’re sharing a joint and the guy is blowing him, and smoking the joint as well; long deep drags on his cock alternating with long deep drags on the joint, and Chris is feeling relaxed and giggly, and this guy is excellent at deep throating, and he actually makes Chris laugh, he’s funny and witty and doesn’t take himself too seriously. He’s not your standard good looking guy, he’s a bit camp but he’s got something about him, he’s got confidence, a lean alley-cat type of confidence that doesn’t take life too seriously or sex too seriously and right now this is exactly what Chris wants.
He’s got a sense of humour, this guy, he’s pretending to offer Chris’s cock a drag of the joint, and now he’s giving it a blowback, his lips curling around the head and tickling the slit with his tongue, and Chris just thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, he’s lying there practically crying with laughter over his dick being shotgunned, and the guy starts laughing too, covering Chris’s stomach with kisses and biting on his hip. After they finish, they start chatting a bit, and Chris is actually interested to know what he has to say, because he’s had the best time ever this week, no actually this month, and part of him is anxious because in a minute the joint will be finished and the guy will be on his way, but he doesn’t want to see him go, he wants to keep him here awhile, talking.
“What’s … what’s your name?” asks Chris, as the guy stubs out the joint.
Damn. He couldn’t think of any conversational topic better than that?
“Well aren’t we getting intimate,” says the guy, raising one eyebrow and holding out a hand to him. “Second base already. My name, since you ask, is Eskild.”
Chris jumps. Eskild?
“Um, have we … have we met before?”
Eskild shakes his head, puzzled. “I don’t think so. I think I’d have remembered someone like you,” he says with an arch stare that makes Chris’s cheek flush.
“You don’t go to the … Plaza gym showers by any chance?”
“Plaza? No, I’m a penniless university student. UiO,” says Eskild with a charming laugh. “But pretty much everyone’s heard stories about how wild it gets there.”
Fucking Noora. Chris rolls his eyes involuntarily. Damn, that girl is good. She really fooled him, getting him to out himself like that. For fuck’s sake.
He shakes his head, but he’s still curious.
“Eskild? Do you know … a girl called Noora? Noora Saetre?”
Eskild nods. “Noora? Yeah, she’s my flatmate. Recent lesbian too.”
“Bisexual,” corrects Chris before he can stop himself, and Eskild shrugs.
“Whatever. Bi now, gay later, and all that.”
“You got something against bi people? There’s a B in LGBT, isn’t there?” snaps Chris, ruffled and a bit disappointed. He really likes this guy, and if this guy is going to prove himself a dick and be like all the other bi-erasing gays he’s met then he can absolutely fuck off.
But Eskild is smiling and sitting up to roll another joint, poking at him teasingly with his foot. “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. I like bi men.”
Chris looks at him sharply. “Okayyy … it’s just lots of men don’t.”
“Well I’ve always been one for a challenge,” yawns Eskild flirtatiously. “You want to go out some time?”
“Fuck, yes,” says Chris before he can stop himself, and Eskild laughs, teeth flashing in the dim light and raising his eyebrows with his characteristic sarcasm.
“Okay then. And before then do you think your cock can handle another bit of jay?”