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i
Why is there so much maths in psychology? Nick fumbles with his pen and his calculator, trying to work out the ratios of certain ‘answers to participants’ in some pointless questionnaire. He has enough of this in actual mathematics, he chose psychology GCSE because he thought it was about what makes people tick. Nick is interested in people, he is not interested in the difference between mean, mode, and median; no doubt a psychologist would find that interesting.
Nick abandons analysing the table of results in favour of the essay question:
A friend of yours is going to have an interview for a summer holiday job and asks for your advice about body language. Using your knowledge of psychology, suggest an appropriate posture for your friend to use during the interview. Justify your answer.
This is more like it. He turns to the chapter in his GCSE Psychology course book - Aspects of Non-Verbal Communication and starts to read.
‘Closed posture: positioning the arms so that they are folded across the body.’
Nick has never been particularly body conscious and has never given much thought to his arms. They are useful, for carrying things, and it would be impossible to tackle another player properly without them but most of the time their main purpose it to allow his hands to reach things. Reading about body language, particularly in relation to arms makes him feel awkward, he is never quite sure what to do with his.
‘Crossing of Arms: This stance gives the impression that you have already taken your decision and you are going to defend it no matter what. It’s hostile and discourages discussion.’
‘If a person keeps their arms crossed, slouches or sits with a hunch back, crosses their arms and legs, it can be an indication of unfriendliness and that they are bored or not interested in listening to the speaker.’
‘Arms in Front of Body: Normally a sign of nervousness and can be seen in people who are either aspirants in an interview or first-time employees on their first day.
I do that, Nick thinks, I like to sit with my arms crossed or folded in front of me, but I don’t think I’m defensive or hostile. I don’t think I’m bored either, except in some lessons, it just seems more comfortable to sit that way.
Crossed Arms: may also be an indicator of insecurity, of helplessness, unhappiness, or fear.
Nick chews on his pen a little and then remembers that the last time he did that he ended up with blue lips. He puts the pen down quickly and folds his arms, and then hurriedly unfolds them again, turning red, embarrassed even though there is no one to see him.
I’m not afraid, Nick thinks, throwing down the book in disgust, and picking his pen up again to doodle on his notes, that book is rubbish, why should a person be considered as helpless because they sit with their arms crossed in front of them. An image of his brother wanders through his thoughts, Nick dismisses it, he will not bring his relationship with David into this. Just because he hardly ever sees his father and his brother is a jerk, does mean he’s insecure or unhappy, he just likes to sit that way.
He looks down at his arms, the wretched things have migrated to cross his body again. They are functional, that’s all that matters, try not to read too much into what they seem to do when they act independently.
ii
It has rained every day for a fortnight turning Truham’s supposed ‘all weather’ turf into a quagmire. Normally, Ms Singh takes a gung-ho approach to the condition of the pitch, but even she concedes that it is too dangerous this particular afternoon. As this is the second time in a row that practice has been cancelled and she can tell the boys are getting a little antsy, she shepherds them into the gym to work on their upper body strength and fitness levels in general.
“Legs are the most important area for rugby players to train, but upper body is a close second, because you need strength on the ball, you don’t want to get ripped of possession.” Ms Singh is showing them light weights and hammer presses, “equally you want to be strong enough to rip the ball off the opposition.”
Nick is absorbing the information like a sponge and wondering if he might like to join a gym. He could talk about it to his mum, she knows he takes his rugby seriously, and as long as it didn’t interfere with his school work, she might let him. In the meantime, he makes a careful note of Ms Singh’s directions so that he can follow the exercises at home.
“To tackle well you need strong shoulders and arms,” he hears Ms Singh’s voice as he practices the hammer presses again in his bedroom, “and not just those of you that play on the wing. All of you need the chest and arm strength to hand someone off and avoid collisions.”
Nick has no intention of avoiding a collision when he hears the conversation between Charlie and a boy whose voice he vaguely recognises. He hears the panic in Charlie’s voice and sees the other boy, Ben Hope as it turns out, pushing him against the wall, and kissing him apparently against his will if Charlie’s urgent ‘stop it’ is anything to go by.
Nick never knew what it meant to ‘feel your blood boil’ until now. He grabs Ben by the collar of his blazer and hauls him off Charlie as if he is lighter than a feather. It is the work of a moment to send him staggering down the corridor.
“He told you to stop.”
Ben stands there shaking himself down, and when he doesn’t go instantly, Nick ensures there can be no misunderstanding.
“Go on…Piss off!”
Nick turns to Charlie, his first concern now Ben has left.
“You okay?”
“Did you hear all of that?” Charlie’s voice is tremulous and timid. Nick wants to reassure the younger boy that he did not hear him being assaulted and humiliated by someone who claimed to like him, but he cannot lie.
“Most of it.”
Poor kid, Nick thinks, he’s in tears, he really does look like he should be in Year Eight.
Charlie is looking at Nick as if he is some kind of superhero, eyes shining, but then he has just been crying. It makes Nick feel good and kind of embarrassed at the same time. He wants to put his arms around the younger boy to comfort him, the adrenaline is still pumping round his body and holding Charlie might make it slow down. But he has enough about him to remember that Charlie has just been touched aggressively and without permission by Ben, and Nick isn’t about to compound the felony. He settles for a friendly pat on the top of the boy’s arm and a little banter about the S word which lightens the mood and makes Charlie smile, which is a good thing, that’s what friends do, isn’t it?
iii
“What do you mean you’ve never made a snow angel?”
Nick is having the favourite day of his life so far; he just hasn’t quite realised it. From the moment he rang the doorbell, Charlie has sprinkled the day with magic just for them. Even the sound thrashing at Mario Kart hasn’t dampened Nick’s enjoyment but added to the fascination his new friend holds for him. Charlie is good at everything, video games, all school subjects, but especially maths, and befriending dogs…
Nellie adores him already, and Charlie… Charlie is in love… with Nellie.
It is a relief; it breaks the tension when they suddenly notice it is snowing. Of course, it snows, everything about the day is destined to pan out like a Hallmark movie. They rush outside in wordless agreement; Nick leads Charlie through the back garden and into the little spinney that is hidden in the centre of the estate where Nick lives. The snow has fallen heavily in a short period of time and there is quite a thick covering, certainly enough for a snowball fight.
Charlie looks cute, in one of Nick’s hoodies which rather drowns him and makes him look smaller than he actually is. It makes Nick’s insides go funny when he thinks about it… so he doesn’t and instead pounces on Charlie and stuffs half a snowball down his neck, just to hear him squeal. Nellie likes this game, and for an old girl, she is up for joining in the fun.
“Let’s make snow angels!” Charlie exclaims as they reach a patch of virgin snow.
“What?”
“A snow angel, like this.”
Charlie throws himself horizontally on the ground and starts to flap his arms up and down, opening and closing his legs to make the shape of an angel against the snow. He is laughing out loud despite the cold and Nick, enchanted, grabs his phone and burst shots Charlie in all his glory.
“Come on, join in.”
Nick hesitates, it looks cold, wet, undignified, and something else… too carefree?
“I’ve never…”
“You mean you’ve never made a snow angel?”
Nick excuses, “there was never enough snow.” Plus ‘David took the piss out of me for wanting to’.
Charlie makes a disbelieving noise, Nellie joins in. “Whimp, afraid of getting cold?”
A challenge then, Nick is always up for one of those, and he gently lowers himself to the ground landing just the right distance from Charlie’s wings. After a moment wriggling into position, he ploughs his arms through the snow to make his own angel wings. He feels the muscles contracting, it is cold, but exhilarating to be lying there like a child again, free just to be himself, in a way he can never be with his friends from Truham’s Year Eleven and the rugby team.
The situation demands a selfie but to get them both in the picture Nick has to scoot over to Charlie so that their arms are touching. He holds his phone in his right hand at arm’s length so that he can capture both their faces and Nellie as she snuggles in between them, the photos reflect the purity of their friendship. Nick is thinking, it is Saturday, if it keeps snowing school might be closed on Monday, he doesn’t dislike school but the idea of an extra day off appeals.
Nick slips his phone into his pocket, extends his arms towards the sky and waves them shouting, “more, come on, more,” making Charlie dissolve in laughter.
Nick can tell that Charlie is watching him, that Charlie can’t take his eyes of him, it is silly and sweet and totally ridiculous and the most fun that Nick has had in ages, years even; perhaps since David was at primary school and their dad still lived at home.
“Do you think it will keep snowing?”
“School might be closed.”
The two boys look at the sky, but it already looks as if the snow clouds are passing. Nick doesn’t let that defeat him.
“If it is a snow day, Monday, we could do this again.”
Charlie sounds doubtful, “my mum will expect me to do some course work.”
“Okay, but in the afternoon then.”
“Okay, if it doesn’t rain and wash it all away.”
iv
The first thing Nick does on entering Charlie’s bedroom is make a beeline for the drums. He already thinks Charlie is cool because he drums at school, but to have his own drumkit in his bedroom, well is there a word for beyond cool?
He puppy eyes Charlie and soon he is having a go.
Except it is a lot harder than it looks, how does Charlie make it seem so simple? People drum all the time, spoons against teacups, hands against tabletops, feet against the floor. There should be nothing to it, except Nick has two arms, two hands and two drumsticks, but apparently zero musical ability.
Charlie decides it is time to put them both out of their misery, “budge up”, he says squashing onto the drum stool next to his friend, and catching hold of his hands, moves Nick’s arms to enable him to tap out a simple roll. Nick follows as best he can but the only rhythm he hears is that of his heart beating.
******
Charlie has offered to help Nick with his algebra, it isn’t exactly how Nick wants to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it is slightly embarrassing that Charlie is younger, but further ahead in his maths, than Nick is. Charlie is conscientious in his tutoring duties and has a set of questions ready with their solutions for Nick to try.
“… so 2y=x+7.”
Nick scratches his head, it sounds simple enough when Charlie explains it, but in truth it is going in one ear and out the other.
“Okay, now this one. Find the minimum value of the function f(x) = x^2+4x+5f(x)=x2+4x+5.”
Nick is bored, with a sudden move he whips the text book out of Charlie’s hand.
Charlie shrieks, “Hey, give that back.”
“No way, nerd.”
Charlie makes a lucky grab and captures the book, and giggles delightedly (and in Nick’s opinion delightfully). Nick decides it is time to discover if Charlie is ticklish and launches himself on top of the younger boy. The text book is lost in the melee, and Nick soon has Charlie pinned beneath him.
“It’s not fair, why are you so strong?”
“I’m not strong, you’re just small.”
“It’s your fault for being a rugby lad!”
“Excuse me! Rugby lad?”
“Yeah!”
“So, we off for a cheeky Nando’s then mate, heh” Nick is giving it everything he’s got, Charlie is pushing him, but Nick really does have strength on his side, “It’s only banter, lads, innit lads, innit?”
“Ooof, gerroff, you’re heavy!”
Nick suddenly realises quite how they have ended up; he has Charlie pinned down by his arms, they are both bright red in the face and panting, their bodies in far closer proximity than Nick has ever been with any other person, boy or girl. He rolls away from Charlie, startled, but Charlie doesn’t seem perturbed by it, he jumps up and announces, “Right, Mario Kart!”
******
The day ends in the Springs sitting room, Charlie’s parents have brought home a pizza for them, which they have eaten while watching a film on the big telly, or at least supposedly watching, Charlie, bless him is fast asleep and Nick is watching Charlie.
Charlie is half snuggled under a throw, one arm exposed, upwards, open, vulnerable, hand just asking to be held. Nick’s arms seem to have developed a will of their own, one hand hovers over Charlie’s, Nick can almost feel the sparks fly, he panics and retreats. Tentatively he sends out another exploratory hand, the result is the same, fireworks. Nick sits up straight, folds both arms determinedly across his chest again, defensive body language, helpless, insecure, afraid. This time there is no argument.
Nick manages to resist as long as possible, until he is almost out of the door. Is it his fault that Charlie looks so cuddly?
He hugs Charlie tightly, for far longer than is natural and normal, even for the good friends they are becoming. Charlie goes rigid and then relaxes, and Nick feels his friend’s arms circling his back. Then Nick surfaces, he realises what he is doing, coughs and bolts for the door. He needs to get away, because there is one thing he has learnt today, and it isn’t the properties of algebraic formulae.
It is that Charlie belongs in his arms.
v
“Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?”
She can almost hear Nick rolling his eyes at that question even though he has his back to her as he fiddles with his hair in front of the hall mirror. Though Sarah doesn’t blame him, it is exactly the type of question that would have had her rolling her eyes at her own mother thirty years ago.
Nick is wearing a delicately patterned blue grey shirt made of some light cotton material with very short sleeves. It is new, at least she hasn’t seen it before. Sarah forks out for his school uniform and the usual essentials, but she gives him a small allowance to buy some of his clothes himself. She likes the shirt, she thinks it suits him, only it would be much more appropriate for the beach in August than a birthday party in March.
“Mum!!” Nick turns to look at her, and does in fact roll his eyes, “I’m going to be inside, with 200 other people, I’m not going to freeze.”
“But you’re still going to have to queue to get in, and it will be late when the party finishes. You could always take a coat”
This suggestion is also poorly received.
“Okay, okay.” Nick stomps off upstairs, huffing.
When he comes back, he has a white t-shirt on underneath the shirt which he is now wearing as a jacket and has apparently refreshed his cologne as well. The addition of the t-shirt appears to have caused another hair crisis. Nick’s hair is naturally thick like his father’s and doesn’t always do as it’s told which results in another ten minutes in front of the mirror until Nick is more or less satisfied.
He’s making quite an effort tonight, Sarah thinks, I wonder who that is in aid of?
+ i
Nick takes being a boyfriend, even a secret one, very seriously. He knows that Charlie has had a rotten deal in the past with the bullying in general and Ben Hope in particular. Nick thinks it is his job to make it up to him, to show Charlie that he is admired, that he is likable, attractive. He does this by holding Charlie’s hand and kissing him at every available opportunity, even though these activities are restricted to behind closed doors at present.
Nick finds it easy to flirt with Charlie, when they are alone together, but sometimes he can’t help it spilling out into a more public arena. He thought Charlie might be the one to find it hard to keep their altered status a secret but Nick struggles too. His instinct when he scores the strike and takes the first game when they are bowling for Charlie's birthday is to pull him into his arms and kiss him thoroughly, as is the champion’s right. Instead, they have to be more circumspect, Nick isn’t comfortable with revealing anything, even to Charlie’s accepting friends. He has to make do with Charlie squeezing his bicep and accusing him of cheating, with his ‘strong rugby arms’, to which Nick protests,
“I thought you liked my arms.”
Later when he does kiss Charlie and cups the back his neck to hold him close, something is different, not because the kiss is deeper, or coloured by the thrill of doing it in a public place where anyone might see them, coupled with the danger of discovery. It is tinged with something powerful, that he can’t quite define… he thinks it might be longing.
******
I thought you liked my arms.
Where the heck had that come from? Nick wonders. He is home at last from meeting Imogen in the park and is sprawled on his bedroom floor with Nellie across his knees. He has had enough of introspection for one afternoon and he needs to finish his chemistry homework for tomorrow, but really, he just wants to laze around and daydream about Charlie, and maybe later DM Charlie, or even call him…
He thinks about the conversation he had with Charlie, when he said, “I really like you,” he wonders if Charlie understood the intensity of his feelings.
He likes to touch Charlie a lot,
He likes to hug Charlie a lot,
He likes to kiss Charlie a lot.
But for the first time it seems he wants those feelings to be reciprocated, to know for certain that Charlie likes him, that Charlie thinks that he looks nice, is physically attracted to him.
And then the penny drops, it’s obvious, he wants to have sex with Charlie, not now, not even soon, but eventually, to be Charlie’s first, and for Charlie to be his. He wants to hold Charlie in his arms without the barrier of hoodies and jumpers, he wants to touch Charlie, to feel Charlie’s skin against his own, to be naked with him, preferably somewhere comfortable like a bed or the couch but really anywhere private would do, and suddenly Nick knows… unequivocally… why it is so important, that Charlie likes his arms.