“Pardon?”
“His name’s Jesse, Brian. Not John.”
Brian looked up from his notes. His left eyebrow rose to an extraordinary height. “Is it?” he asked me.
I nodded apologetically, expecting the next question to be ‘Are you sure?’ or ‘When did you change it?’
“Well, well. I never knew.”
I didn’t doubt that for one second, but I didn’t care. My degree certificate—first class, hell, yeah!—had the right name on it, which was all that mattered. Well, getting to the end of this interview without fluffing it—ideally before Saturday—was kind of important, too.
“Brian, did you have a question?” Professor Parker prompted.
“Hm? Oh, yes. Jo—Jesse…” He smiled uncomfortably, like he was suddenly talking to a stranger. “Why have you applied to study part-time rather than full-time? For financial reasons, I presume?”
“Yes. I’ve just moved in with my partner. My postgraduate loan covers my tuition fees, but—”
“Bills to pay, mouths to feed?” Brian finished for me.
I nodded. In fact, we were better off than most, but it was still going to be a stretch.
“I see. Have you considered becoming an associate tutor, hm?”
“Yes. I’ve had an interview already, and I’m on the bank.” Which didn’t guarantee I’d get regular work, or any work at all.
“Great…” Brian’s mouth briefly formed a ‘J’ shape before he abandoned his attempt at my name—there was clearly no space left in his brain for trivialities like that—and then scribbled something on his notebook. He showed it to Professor Parker, receiving a noncommittal nod in response. “If we were to offer you a stipendiary position, would you be interested?”
“Um…I don’t know what that is.” Ugh. Fail.
Brian deferred to his boss to explain.
“It’s a fixed-term contract. You would be expected to take tutorials and seminars for a specified number of hours per week, and assist Doctor Brown with administration and organisation of teaching in his area as well as pastoral care of students.”
Teaching? Eek! Standing up in front of groups of undergraduates and talking sense? Heh, at least it wasn’t kids, even if it did mean dealing with slackers like Ryan, who had, by some miracle—or, more likely, the generosity of a diligent study partner—upped his third class to a 2:2. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? I knew my stuff, and eight months of presenting to staff and students at all levels had seen off most of my nervousness about public speaking.
But then there was Noah. His interview was directly after mine—he was waiting outside—and he wanted to teach. If I accepted their offer, I might be stealing the opportunity from under my best mate’s nose, and I wouldn’t…couldn’t do it.
“Are there any other stipendiary positions?” I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I had to.
Professor Parker eyed me curiously. “Doctor Brown will be supervising your thesis. Is that a problem?”
Crap. That wasn’t what I’d meant at all. I got on great with Brian—Doctor Brown—and I was well up for teaching with him, but not at Noah’s expense.
“Ah,” Brian said. “I believe, Professor, John is concerned for one of our other graduate students. No—”
“Noah Ashton,” I cut in quickly. “Yes, I am. I might be wrong, but I think he’d relish the chance of some teaching experience.”
Professor Parker had a bemused smile. “It’s very thoughtful of you to look out for him. I assume you’re friends?”
“Yes, we are.” I tried, but I couldn’t stop myself from grinning, and then blushing, which also meant having to explain. “He’s getting married on Saturday, and I’m his best man.”
“Oh, gosh! In that case, we’d better not keep you further. Jesse, we’d like to offer you a place on our Master’s programme, and we’d be delighted to receive your application for the stipendiary lectureship in critical theory. It may also interest you to know we’re offering a stipendiary lectureship in discourse studies. You’re welcome to apply for both posts if you wish, but the workload would be significant, particularly if you later decided to switch to full-time study.”
“I could do that?”
“As long as it’s within the first few weeks of the course, yes.”
“Oh, wow! Thank you.” My shoulders must’ve dropped about six inches with my sigh of relief.
“We’ll send out a written offer, of course. Do you have any further questions?”
“Not at this time, thanks.”
Professor Parker rose to her feet, as did I, and she shook my hand. “Congratulations, Jesse.”
“Thanks so much!” I initiated a hand shake with Brian, who remained in his seat. He was a funny old bloke, scruffy and crumpled, with a mess of dreadlocks crowning his scatterbrained head, but he was so bloody clever. He always pushed me to do my best, and he believed in me. My respect for him was immense.
The professor walked me to the door. “On another matter, we’ve quite a few new staff starting this year. It would be wonderful if you and your colleague could run an inclusion session as part of our induction training programme.”
“Yeah, definitely. When would it be?”
“Early September. I’ll drop you an email.”
“OK. That’s great. Thanks, Prof—”
“Ruby.”
“Thanks…Ruby.” Probably the colour I’d turned calling the dean by her first name. She opened the door for me, and I stepped out into the corridor, heaving another enormous sigh as the door closed behind me and I met Noah’s searching gaze.
“How’d it go?”
“Not bad. I’m on the Master’s programme.”
“Well done, mate.”
“Cheers. And I think they’re giving me a stipendiary lectureship.”
“A what?”
“Fixed-term contract, part-time.” I really wanted to tell him about the other post, but if I’d misunderstood—I didn’t think I had—I’d be getting his hopes up for no reason.
Before I got myself too tied up in knots, the door opened again. “Noah?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Good luck…Noel,” I said as he stepped past me.
“Fuck off,” he hissed and followed Professor Parker inside.
***
My mum answered her work phone as I pushed the front door open. “Hello, Susan Thomas speaking.”
“Hi, Susan,” I said through my grin and laughed at her tut and huff. “They offered me a place.”
“That’s great news! Well done, love.”
“Thanks.” I stuck my head into the living room. My grandma would’ve heard me, but I gave her a thumbs up to confirm it. She silently applauded.
“How did Noah get on?” Mum asked.
“Yep, same. You want to hear the really great news?” I signalled to my grandma I was going upstairs.
“Go on,” my mum said.
“They offered us both paid teaching work.”
Leigh appeared at the top of the stairs and said, “No way!” at the same time as my mum asked, “Did they?”
“Yep,” I confirmed. I walked up and straight into a hug.
“You said yes, right?” Leigh asked. My mum’s laughter filled my ear.
“Of course I said yes!”
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?” Mum tormented.
“Right, that’s it. I’m going,” I said, pretending to be offended.
“All right, love. I’ll speak to you later. And congratulations again.”
“Thanks, Mum. Bye.” I ended the call and put my phone away so I could hug Leigh with both arms. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Leigh grinned into my kiss. I was never going to get tired of coming home to them.
“What’ve you been up to?” I asked, though the white flecks in their hair and the smell of paint had already given me my answer.
They took my hand and said, “Come and see,” as they led me into the front bedroom—our living room—which, unti
l last week, had been covered in floral wallpaper but was now mostly white. The colour would come later, Leigh assured me, and I was more than happy to take their word for it, especially as this whole brilliant situation was their doing.
One Sunday over dinner, my grandma had mentioned in passing, like it was nothing more than the vacuum cleaner needing a new belt, that she was thinking of getting a stair lift. Mum went from zero to berserk in under three seconds, and I was all for a strategic exit to check if the tomatoes needed watering, but Leigh told me to stay put. So we sat it out, and when Mum and Grandma reached an impasse, Leigh put forward their proposal.
They’d thought of everything. We’d take over the top floor, pay the council tax and utility bills, and, if I was OK with it, use the money my dad left me to convert one of the bedrooms into a kitchen, and transform the ground-floor toilet and walk-in pantry—which my grandma hadn’t used since my mum left home—into a shower room.
In short, we’d turn the house into two flats; we’d have a place of our own, my grandma wouldn’t have to sell her house, and my grandma and Leigh could keep an eye on each other, which would give Mum and me some peace of mind. It sounded like a perfect arrangement to me, but I hadn’t expected my grandma—or my mum—to agree.
Yeah, so, I was wrong, and I really should’ve known better. Leigh had a genius knack for talking people round, not through forcing them to change or pushing them into things they didn’t want to do, but by showing them, through kindness and encouragement, that they…we were perfect just as we were.
I tugged on Leigh’s hand, spinning them in for another kiss. “I love you.”
Leigh smiled, a little puzzled. “I love you, too. What brought that on?”
“Do I need a reason?”
The smile became laughter. “Nope. The suits have arrived, by the way.”
“Have they?” My stomach flipped, and I released Leigh to go and see for myself. We’d been for a final fitting the previous weekend, so there really was no reason for me to worry mine wouldn’t fit. God, I hoped it would fit.
I’d never done the full tailor experience before, and I wasn’t sure I’d want to do it again. Matty’s grandad was all for morning suits, and he and Hazel were paying for them—they’d paid for almost everything, including a two-week honeymoon luxury cruise—so it was a difficult point to argue, particularly as Noah wasn’t bothered one way or the other. However, the tailor must’ve heard me mutter ‘I’ll look like the Fat Controller’ and taken pity. No morning suits.
Instead, the four of us were fitted for suits cut to ‘accentuate our physiques’, which was surely, in my case, just newspeak for ‘very slimming’. Noah’s and mine were in the same charcoal check fabric with a light silver-grey waistcoat, and matching cravat and pocket square. Matty’s and Leigh’s suits were…I didn’t know. Today would be the first time I saw Leigh’s and they saw mine.
I stared at the suit bags hanging on the back of the bedroom door.
“We should try them on,” Leigh said. I nodded and continued staring. Leigh sighed and stepped around me to unzip the bags. “That one’s yours.” They handed the bag to me.
“Thanks.” I laid it carefully on the bed and pulled the hanger free, bringing the grey, shapeless tent with it.
“Come on, Jesse,” Leigh goaded gently.
Glancing behind me, I started to unbutton my shirt. Leigh had already stripped down to their underwear. I sped up.
The shirts the tailor had selected for Noah and me were a pale-blue herringbone pattern, and soft, with lots of room in them. It still fitted! My anxiety dropped a notch.
Pants next—they fitted, too—and then the waistcoat, which I loved, especially. Too many bad memories of stretched-buttonhole school shirts—but the waistcoat covered the danger zone.
Finally, the jacket, and this was where the real tailor magic had happened. My jacket was longer; Noah’s had shoulder padding; his was also an intentionally looser fit than mine, yet on us, they looked exactly the same. I didn’t bother with the cravat.
“I’m ready.”
“Hold on. Almost… OK. After three?”
“One, two…” On three, we both turned around.
“Oh my god,” Leigh whispered breathlessly.
Wow.
“That suit is so…”
“You like it?” I uttered, completely blown away.
“I love it. Do you?”
I managed to nod, and then couldn’t stop.
“What d’you think?” Leigh spun on the spot.
Their suit—and Matty’s, I was guessing—was the same silver as my waistcoat. A short jacket with high-waisted, slim-fit pants, and their waistcoat was sunshine yellow. It wasn’t a combination Noah or I could’ve worn, but on Leigh…
“Beautiful.”
“The suit?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It…you…”
Suddenly we were in each other’s space. Leigh’s hands were straight under my jacket, palms sliding over the soft silvery waistcoat. “You look so hot.”
“So do you.” And then we were kissing, and the suits were coming off. “We should hang them up,” I said.
“It can wait.” We were almost naked, the suits discarded next to us on the bed. Leigh straddled me, barely breaking lip contact as they removed their boxers and I wriggled out of mine. The act of kicking mine off made Leigh bounce and my belly wobble. They groaned and sat upright, hands spanning my flesh, kneading, as they slid forward again until we were chest to chest and lost in kisses, our synchronised motions dangerously frantic. We paused our love-making long enough to deal with condom and lube, already so far gone our suits were all but forgotten.
Leigh groaned and rolled their hips, frozen momentarily by their climax; I wasn’t there yet, but I wasn’t far off. They pulled up then back; I slid between their buttocks.
“This OK?” they asked.
I nodded as they moved again; the pressure increased. I had to really concentrate. Urgh, no. Definitely not concentrate.
Think of something else… If I could hold out long enough, maybe Leigh would climax again. Hmm…I liked that idea…far too much! I clutched the duvet, or tried to, and got a handful of suit jacket.
“Can’t wait to see you in a tux,” Leigh murmured huskily.
“Mmm.” Think… “Might be a while.” Yep, that was a good distraction. Our wedding, me in a tux, Leigh in…anything. Damn, this wasn’t working. Think! Wedding, wedding, how long now? If I went full-time, maybe another year?
“Next week,” Leigh said.
“Huh?” We couldn’t get married next week. Too soon…agh, too late! “Leigh…” I warned and gripped their hips to stop them rocking.
They didn’t stop.
***
An hour later, with our suits safely back on their hangers and us back in our clothes, we were eating lunch in the conservatory when Leigh’s words came back to me.
“Next week?”
Leigh put the last bit of sandwich in their mouth and chewed, and chewed…
“Don’t think I can’t see that cheeky smirk. What have you done?”
…and swallowed. “Have we got any ice cream?” They got up and scooted back into the house.
“Leigh, what have you done?”
“Well, you know how our kitchen’s being fitted in the next couple of weeks?”
“Hmm?”
“And you know how you didn’t want to be here?”
I knew what was coming. “Hmm?”
Leigh reappeared with a pot of Ben & Jerry’s and a spoon. “Guess what?”
“We’re going with them, aren’t we?”
“Yep.”
“But…how?”
“Hazel and Stuart.”
“It’s so much money, though. And Noah and Matty won’t want us there.”
“Why not?”
“It’s their honeymoon! We’ll be in the way.”
“Seriously, Jesse. Have you seen the size of a cruise ship?”
I had to conc
ede that one. “Do they even know we’re coming?”
“Noah does. We decided it was safer not to tell Matty until I’d told you.”
“Right.” I pulled my phone out and called up my so-called best mate.
“Yep?” he answered.
“You bastard.”
“Yep. You coming over?”
“Nope. We’re done.”
“OK. See you in a bit.” He hung up.
***
“…Matty and Noah, you have both made the declarations prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract with each other in the presence of the witnesses here assembled. It therefore gives me the greatest honour and privilege to pronounce you married. You may now kiss your spouse.”
Big scary bloke that he was, Noah’s dad wasn’t ashamed of his tears; nor was Adam, for that matter. The two of them were sobbing openly, and I wasn’t far off joining them. To finally see my two closest friends tying the knot after all they’d endured? I was very emotional, although I was also bloody knackered. Still, only the best man speech to get through, and my work here was done…
“…OK, folks, I’m gonna keep this short and sweet. Unlike Noah.” I gave him a grin. A raucous cheer rose up from the guests, along with the distinctive clink of stubbies. Noah’s expression remained stoic.
“In one month, I’ll have known this top bloke for exactly five years, and in all that time, we’ve never fallen out. Never had a cross word, never disagreed…or nothing more serious than whether the word count includes the bibliography. I was wrong. I’m big enough to admit it. More than big enough.” That earned me matching scowls from Matty and Leigh and a ‘yip’ and a toast from Noah’s dad.
“I’ve given some thought to how we’ve achieved that. Respect? Yep. Love? Most certainly. And it’s a lot of give and take. When Matty came into Noah’s life, I could easily have found myself pushed aside. I’d have totally understood if that’s what had happened. After all, only a fool would give up Matty for their best mate, or to pass their exams…”
“You’d have soon complained if they’d kicked me out of uni,” Noah grumbled.
“Too right I would!” I looked out at the guests—family, friends and a select few Pride members. “You know this grumpiness is all an act, right? Behind closed doors, he’s like a box full of sunshine. Puts Matty to shame…”
The Making of Us Page 31
