by H J Perry
“Can you twerk? I’ve never seen you twerk.”
“You don’t want to see me twerk. I’m not doing it. It sends out the wrong message.” Scott was sure Liz knew he was joking about the whole routine, and just playing along.
“And banging my backside, simulation sex act style, doesn’t send out the wrong message?”
“Too much?”
“Way too much.” Liz nodded.
“I’m going to cool down and think about it. Back in a minute.” Scott placed his half-full drink back on the bar. “Feel free to finish this one if you get thirsty.” He pushed through the crowd. He’d go up to the balcony, get an overview of the club and use the less busy upstairs washroom.
CHAPTER THREE
January 2012
Jason
There was no one in the balcony bathroom. Not a man stood at the trough, the doors to three cubicles remained open and a single tap dripped into one of the empty basins. The music from the club was still audible but muffled.
Phone still in his hand Jason keyed in his passcode and quickly clicked through the three-layered folder system where he’d hidden the app. If he couldn’t strut his stuff, bump and grind with a man on the dance-floor, he could certainly do that and a whole lot more in private. There were plenty of willing men seeking a late-night hookup, even on a Monday, in Birmingham. Coming to his senses, anyone could walk in on him; he took to the privacy of a stall, and once inside the cubicle, he locked the door and leaned back against it. He flipped over the images and profiles that appeared on his screen. Some guys looked cute, interesting, freaks. So many men, so close, and yet.
The door to the washrooms banged against the wall when it opened, letting in the loud music. Jason’s fingers froze, hovering over a guy’s sculpted six pack. The other sounds came from closer, within the room, shuffling of feet, two guys talking, shouting, speech slurred and clipped sentences that made no sense. It was a bit early to be that drunk, but it wasn’t for Jason to judge. He continued to browse the face shots, dick pics, overexposed asses.
There was no way Jason was going to meet another man via that app, not after last time, and not with so much at stake. Life turned out just as his father warned him. Money can’t buy everything even for a millionaire, on a footballer’s income. You can be gay or a footballer, but you can’t be both. The world isn’t ready for that yet. Jason made his choice, and he chose professional football.
He didn’t know why he still had the app on his phone, to look at up-for-it, good-as-you guys and remind himself what he was missing. Thank goodness there were other web-based dating sites more suitable to his needs.
He heard the door open, close, and he was alone again. Jason pocketed his phone and put his fingers on his fly. While he was there, he may as well use the room for its intended purpose before leaving.
When washing his hands, the increased intensity of the music was the first indication that the door was opening yet again. In walked the stunning man Jason had watched dancing earlier. The dancer gracefully progressed toward the very next sink, briefly faltering when their eyes met, recognition and surprise flashing over his face.
“Hello, handsome.” Before Jason could respond, still registering the words, the man turned on a cold spray, bent over and splashed his face, neck, and shoulders.
Jason looked him up and down, taking in the slender frame, which looked as hot close up as it did from a distance.
The man looked up. His lips were tight together, sucked into his mouth, only for an instant as he then spoke.
“A night out without foundation, I can do that.”
He pulled something from his pocket. “Not completely no cosmetics. I’m making sure my lips look super kissable.” He opened the tiny container, scooped some gel onto a finger and rubbed it over his lips.
Mesmerized, with the word kissable ringing in his ears, Jason watched the stranger and found himself staring at those glossy lips, noting only in passing the sparkling fingernails.
“What do you think?”
Think of what? The lip gloss? Or the kissability of the lips? Not easily flustered, Jason didn’t know what to say. He recognized a gay man flirting with him but apprehension, and a lifetime of caution, prevented him from following his instinct to flirt back, and hard. Not instinct, desire. Jason fancied this guy, like off the scale, crazy.
“Suits you.” Jason found a neutral, approving tone.
“At last, we meet,” said the stranger.
“At last?”
“I’ve wanted to speak to you.” Alone and up close the stranger looked beautiful, even under the harsh, unflattering, bathroom lighting, with glistening beads of water clinging to his face. He held out his hand. “I’m Scott. I always hoped I’d have the chance to give you my number.”
When Jason glanced down, he saw Scott was offering him a slip of paper, which perhaps he’d pulled from his pocket when putting away the lip gloss. “If you’d like to meet up sometime.”
Scott wasn’t propositioning him for a hookup, there and then, not even suggesting they leave together that night. These things, Jason understood. Meeting up some time, that was unfamiliar territory. And sounded utterly thrilling.
When Jason failed to respond in any way, the disappointment was soon apparent in Scott’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be interested too.” And he moved to slip the paper back in his pocket.
Jason reached out to stop him. “Why are you giving me your number?” Women did this to him, often, men never.
“I thought you’re good looking and gay. Sorry if I’m wrong about the gay. Or perhaps I’m just not your type.” Scott glanced down and then put his hands up, still holding the paper. “If it’s the nails, I don’t normally do this. These are for Liz’s birthday. She doesn’t usually wear nail varnish either.”
“It’s your friend’s birthday. I’m here for a birthday too.” Jason took the paper from Scott’s hand without a comment. “We’d better get back to our friends.”
“What’s your name? So I know you when you call, and you don’t have to say the guy from the toilet because that doesn’t sound good.”
They both laughed.
“You don’t already know, then?” Jason thought Scott looked exceptionally good when he laughed.
“No, why would I?” Still smiling, Scott’s eyebrows raised slightly.
“I don’t know; you might’ve asked someone.”
“I’m not a stalker. Otherwise, I’d have tracked you down weeks ago.”
“I’m Jason.” Jason walked to the door, but when he touched the handle he paused. “I was just about to leave, to be honest.”
“It’s Liz’s birthday, so if you intend to make me an offer I don’t want to refuse we’ll have to take a rain check. I can’t abandon her.”
“No, of course.”
“You’ve got my number there. Use it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
January 2012
Scott
“You don’t call, you don’t write, anyone would think you’re not interested.” Scott stared at the locked screen on his phone as he spoke to it.
“Give him a chance,” said Liz.
“It’s been days,” replied Scott. “How much time does he need? He should’ve messaged me that same night. I hate it when guys play hard to get. Don’t they know I’ve plenty of choices? They need to act fast before I move on to some other dude.”
“Have you ever thought, he’s not interested?” asked Josh, who was sitting on the other side of the kitchen table in the house that the students shared.
“Lack of interest is not an option. He looked very damn interested when we were talking. You’ve seen how he looks at me in that club, Liz. Close up he looked bloody hungry for what I’ve got.”
“They all look like that when you corner them in a public bathroom.” Josh winked. “So I’ve heard.”
“Well, I don’t have the time to sit talking about messages that are not arriving on your phone. I’ve gotta get on with my co
ursework. Maybe you should do the same.”
“Don’t move,” Jackie interrupted. “Dinner will be on the table within minutes. Now, you may resume normal conversation.”
“Isn’t Mary joining us?” asked Josh.
“No, she’s working,” Jackie replied.
“Liz, I chose a subject that was easy so that I wouldn’t have to work so hard,” replied Scott. “You know that.”
“Don't let too many other students hear you say that. They’ll kill you and suck out your brains.” Josh snarled and made a clawing gesture with his fingers.
“I’m starting to remember why we don’t hang out together much, Josh. And it’s true. It’s not like I have to read loads of books.”
“I just hate you people who say maths is easy. I’m gonna miss you guys when we all move out, in the summer,” said Jackie. She pulled a tray out of the hot oven and poked at the baking potatoes before returning them to the heat. “Especially evenings like this, when we share a meal.”
“I don't know how you’ll cope with the real world when you finished your degree.”
“That’s why I’ve applied to stay on and do my Masters, like you, Liz.”
“Not exactly like me, Scott. I have ambition. I want to change the face of physics, explain dark matter, experiment with time travel or something like that. I want to have my own big event horizon, but you’re intent on wasting your talents. You want to stay on, so you don’t have to face the real world.”
“Ouch. That’s a bit harsh.” Scott winked at Liz, “Mommy Lizzy, what kind of job could I do that’s easy and allows me plenty of time for having fun? I want to dance on top of the podium at a gay club every weekend and have hot hunks falling at my feet.”
“You said you didn’t want to follow in your parents’ dancing footsteps.”
“I don’t want to be a professional dancer of any sort, just like I don’t want to be a hooker. I mean, dancing in a club and meeting cute guys, that’s what I want to do in my spare time. Call it a hobby.”
“The well-trodden route, from university student to university lecturer, might suit you.” Jackie dumped a pile of cutlery on the table.
“Yes, perfect. If I could get a job teaching it, that would suit me. I’m so pleased you mapped out my future career for me, as long as it doesn’t interrupt enjoying myself too much.”
“Are university lecturers allowed to have one-night stands with the students?” asked Josh.
“I’m not sure. It should be okay, between consenting adults. Why do you ask?” Julie placed salt and vinegar on the table, still in wholesale industrial sized packaging. And a tiny bottle of ketchup.
“I’m imagining the trouble Scott could get into as a college lecturer working his way through all the confused, just-left-home, young gay boys.”
“There’s plenty who aren’t confused, and that should be enough to keep me going. And thanks for your support everyone. It’s good to hear your reassurances that I’m on the right career path with all the additional perks to the job.”
“Almost enough to help you stop thinking about him?”
Scott looked at his phone for a long moment. “Jason, speak to me.” He then tossed the phone on to the table. “Nice try. Who is he anyway?”
“Sounds like you’re the one more interested in falling at his feet than the other way around. One minute to dinner.” Jackie took a lid off what they called the cauldron, the largest saucepan in the house, and spicy steam billowed to the ceiling.
“I would fall at his feet if that’s what he’s into, if only he’d give me a chance.”
“You’re only pining because you haven’t had him yet. Once he’s here, you’ll just screw him, screw up and throw him out like all the others.”
“Liz, you’ll have to remind me why we are friends. And correction, I don’t throw them out; they just don’t seem to want to come back.”
“Too embarrassed to show their faces after all that noise you make might be one of the reasons,” Josh mumbled.
“I don’t know what you mean.” It wasn’t the first time they’d had the conversation; Scott knew exactly what Josh meant.
“If Jason calls you, Scott, please take him back to his place. The wall here are too thin, and your bed squeaks and bangs against the wall,” said Josh.
“I thought you were all asleep. I never hear Jackie and Mary, and they sleep together every night.”
Jackie replied, “We’re quiet because we are a couple. We don’t keep the rest of you awake with our sex life and then have to speak to you at breakfast.”
“Scott doesn’t share those same level of inhibitions. I guess it’s because we don’t generally get to meet the dudes he brings home. They’ve left before breakfast.”
“So the guys I shag have busy lives. And get a bit vocal in the bedroom.” Scott picked up the phone and put on a mournful expression. “I wouldn’t say no to breakfast with Jason.”
“Gasp, gasp,” said Liz. “I do believe that’s your voice we hear, getting a bit vocal.”
Scott put his finger on his cheeks. “It’s getting hot in here.”
“That will be down to my delicious cooking.” Jackie opened the oven door again, pulled out the potatoes and started to plate them up.
Scott loved sharing a house with Jackie, the great mediator, the woman who calmed down any situation and saved him from complete humiliation all too frequently.
“I love these nights when we share a cooked meal. Especially when Scott cooks,” Jackie continued talking as she moved on to dishing out her homemade chili on the side.
“I will definitely miss Scott’s homemade pizza,” agreed Josh.
“His pizza! It’s the best shared meal we have,” said Jackie.
“I can teach you to make it. I know you’ve been resistant because you think I should do it, but you just need a bit of clean space to prepare it,” said Scott. “It is dead easy. You've seen me do it.”
“I like you cooking it; I’ll stick to potatoes and chili.”
“It’s the least he can do in return for keeping us all awake at least once a week,” Josh grumbled.
“Our lovable Scott.” Liz patted his shoulder. “Please leave Scott alone. I don’t mind the noise he makes, not too much. At least he's getting something. In fact, all of you are getting something. I just live vicariously through hearing about all your sex lives. And I’m going to miss it when we don’t all live together anymore.”
“So that’s it. We won’t be sharing when we leave this house in June?” Jackie looked a little down as she brought the plates of hot food to the table.
“Thanks, Jackie. The landlord says we can stay until into July, but after that, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can barely afford the rent on this dump and finding somewhere else isn’t going to be easy. Not somewhere cheap and suitable. For a serious post-grad student.”
“If the worst comes to worst, Liz, you know you can stay with my parents. They love you like the daughter they never had and the daughter-in-law they’re not going to get. It’s near enough to get to uni but is a last resort.” Scott pulled his plate closed to him and picked up his knife and fork.
“I know. Something will come up; it always does. Needs to be something I can afford that’s the real challenge.”
Jackie sat down in the vacant seat next to Josh. “So the guy you want to hear from is one of those guys from the VIP section on Liz’s birthday? Is that who you’re pining over?”
“Yes.” Scott nodded.
“I wished you’d pointed him out. Is he always in the VIP section, is he famous?”
“We don’t recognize him. Do we, Liz? He doesn’t look as if he’d be famous. Seems timid.”
“When we were there for Liz’s birthday the VIP area was full of footballers. I’d love to know if your guy was one of the footballers. We were quite excited to see Tant, who BSC bought last year, and Carter, who’s just joined the club,” said Julie.
“He says it was a birthday party. I’ve assumed it
was some works do,” said Scott
“If they are footballers, I don’t think he’s a player because he doesn’t seem part of the team. He’s much more an outsider always on the edge of the group,” said Liz.
“Looking at us,” added Scott with a grin.
“I hope he’s a footballer, for your sake. If you got yourself someone wealthy, Scott, then you wouldn’t have to worry about after you finish university. Get civil partnershipped to one of those guys and you’ll be set for life,” said Jackie.
“You’d make a fantastic footballer’s wife with your over the top obsessive tidying,” said Josh
“Honestly, you lot. I’m not making anybody a wife. I’m too young for such commitment. And I might bake pizza and like a tidy house but underneath this camp facade, I’m a guy, Josh, as you very well know. I’ll be no man’s wife.”
“Okay, don’t get so touchy.”
“If Jason ever calls, this time, I’m gonna play hard to get.”
“You! Hard to get. You know that’s a thing?”
CHAPTER FIVE
January 2012
Jason
Scott, it said on the paper in a barely legible scrawl, followed by a string of numbers. Had Scott been drunk when he wrote it, was that his normal writing? Was Scott the sort of person who gave out his number to random strangers after meeting in a public toilet? Were there hundreds of men in Birmingham who possessed scraps of paper like this one?
There was not a glimmer of recognition in Scott’s eyes, and this was a definite plus side in Jason’s mind. He was curious about the person behind the numbers. The fresh-faced youth who didn’t recognize the famous footballer but managed to identify him as gay. How could Scott tell?
