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Nick has two groups of friends. One is the fucking rainbow alphabet soup of weirdos, the other is the rugby lads. Could not be more polarising.
I guess maybe he really is bi.
I’ve kept myself scarce whenever the freakshow’s been parading about this summer. Fuck knows we’ve had enough drama in the house over Nick’s coming out. I don’t have to like it to accept it, and I guess Charlie seems like a nice enough guy. I am not a monster — I know he’s been through a lot, even if he does have "Saint Nicholas” as a boyfriend, I don’t want to add to some gay boy’s trauma.
Even if I have plenty of my own trauma to share around. I’m trying to fix that, though, get on better terms with my mum and brother. It won’t help if I snap at one of those annoying lesbians, or whatever they are, when they pester me with questions about what Nick was like as a baby. So I keep to my room when they are about.
It’s different with the lads. Nick’s got a solid trio of bros he keeps almost as close. Apparently, the two groups do mix on occasion, but he often has just the lads around to play video games, or watch the game and shoot the shit — like guys do.
I don’t know if it pisses Nick off that I join them. He hasn’t said anything. The first time he gave me a look, but didn’t say anything when I ignored it. That being said, I was still surprised when he invited me down this evening to watch the game with him and the lads.
I could say it’s nice to hang out with some other blokes because I miss my uni mates, but that would be a lie. Since I graduated, none of them has been in touch, and I can’t say I’m too sad about it. I’ve not kept in contact with any of my old mates from Truham either. I think some of them still live in the area, but I’ve not bothered reaching out. It’s weird being home for one last summer, though.
Nick and his mates aren’t really footy guys, except for Chris; he’s mad into it, sporting his Man United jersey and all. They chat and drink beer, and only half pay attention to the game. Occasionally, I can see it gets on Chris’ nerves, but he doesn’t say anything unless he’s excitedly telling them to pay attention to a replay. United win 2-1, so they are all pretty merry listening to Chris talk excitedly about counter-attacks and chip shots. I go to skulk off to my room when Otis catches me by the arm.
“Grab me another while you're there, Dave.”
I don’t bother telling him I was actually not going to the kitchen or that no one calls me “Dave”; instead, I turn to the others and ask who else needs a fresh one.
Nick is eyeing me warily as I chat with Sai about my dissertation, but doesn’t say or do anything that makes me think he desperately wants me to leave. It’s nice just talking about random shit with some guys. They tell me about their plans for uni and who is having a gap year or not. After a while, Nick seems to relax again. Perhaps I’ve done enough to show him I’m not going to be a dick in front of his mates.
Nick’s phone rings, obviously it’s Charlie, so he heads out of my and the lads’ earshot — probably doesn't want to be overheard making cutsie talk with his sweetie. I probably should be thankful for that. I should probably call it a night and go to bed. But something shifts in the room as soon as Nick leaves; I can't quite put my finger on it but the air feels different.
“Do you ever wonder what it's like, David?”
I give Chris a confused shug. “What, what's like?”
Christian grins and looks at Otis as if my question was directed at him.
“What Nick and Charlie have, mate.”
“I mean, we can't all meet the ‘love of our life’ in secondary,” I respond with an eye roll. “None of you lads have girlfriends, do you?”
“S’not what we meant, David.” Sai steps towards me.
What the fuck is going on here?
They all move a little closer with wicked amusement in their eyes. I'm just about to ask what the fuck they are talking about when Nick busts back into the room, his goofy smile dissolving the weird tension instantly. I make my excuse and exit quickly without looking my brother in the eye. He doesn’t protest, so I guess he’s not bothered by me rushing out. I leg it to my own bedroom and close my bedroom door behind me before slumping back against it.
What was with those fucked up expressions on their faces? What the fuck were they going to say to me? Do to me? Were they just messing around, or are Nick's ”rugby bros” not as
straight as I thought they were.
But the biggest question I have is: why am I hard?