Chapter 15

Ryan arrived home, went straight into the bathroom, to wash off the now less attractive smell of sex and come and dick and arse and Graham. Somehow, now he was in the same house as Graham's brother it felt less sexy.

Ryan scrubbed his body with soap until it was red. If he could have done so inside, he would have. He washed his hair, standing under the shower for longer than necessary. He brushed his teeth, thinking what his mouth and tongue had been doing hours before, he rinsed with generous amounts of mouthwash three times, staring at his reflection in the mirror between rinses, inspecting his face closely to see if guilt was visible.

It wasn't, although despite having a thorough wash, an air of repulsion and regret remained.

Dressing in his bedroom, there was a bang on the front door.

‘Are you home?' Sam shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Usually, Ryan would be keen to greet him, catch up since they'd last seen each other, which had been a few days at least. But now, Ryan knew he couldn't say the one thing he needed to. Couldn't tell Sam that last night, and this morning he'd been with Sam's brother, and at the time, it was great. Better than he'd imagined.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. ‘Can I come in?' Sam asked.

‘I'm getting dressed. Meet you in the sitting room. Beers are in the fridge.' He said it quickly and couldn't hide the anxious tone.

‘Are you okay?' Sam asked. ‘You sound different.'

Was it because hours ago he was in Sam's brother's arms, in Sam's brother, now he thought of it. It was both really sexy, and very strange, both at the same time. He bit his bottom lip. ‘Be there in a minute.'

The clomping of feet down the corridor showed that Sam had left him alone. For now.

Ryan dressed, and wondered how he was going to explain to the person he told everything to, well, almost everything, why he seemed different. Because he couldn't say he'd met someone and had feelings for them, because he didn't do that. And if he did, Sam would want to know who, how, when and much more. The only thing he could do was to lie, lie and lie some more. To the face of his best friend. Ryan swallowed the lump of fear that had formed in his throat.

In the kitchen, Sam was leaning against the worksurface, holding a bottle of beer. He handed one to Ryan. ‘What happened to you? I left loads of messages, texts, nothing.'

‘Battery died.' First lie.

‘Where were you? Did the thing with Graham go okay? He said that boyfriend of your mum's was massively improved, completely changed. Like that TV show, where half a dozen gay guys do a total transformation. Only Graham was all six of them. Modest, eh?'

‘He's very good.' That was true at least.

‘Is he?' Sam sounded surprised.

‘Very. When I saw, I knew I couldn't let her miss out.'

‘I'm glad. It was super awkward, asking him. He doesn't turn down clients. Did he explain?' Sam asked.

‘Yeah. I thought, I've got to give Dave a chance. Mum is. And she's not stupid, so…'

‘Exactly. What happened after? Didn't hear you come in last night.'

Ryan blushed, looked away to hide it as he remembered last night again. ‘When did you go to bed?' He tried to keep his tone nonchalant.

‘Eleven-ish. Boring Friday night. Wondered what fun you were getting up to. So, when did you get in?'

If he lied, it was easily disprovable. If he told the partial truth, there would be questions. ‘Never mind that, it's boring, what about you, what have you been up to this weekend?'

‘Told you. Nothing. Bed by eleven. Went to visit Mum earlier, up the crematorium. Was a bit lost on my own to be honest. Expected you to want to do something together. We've hardly seen each other all week.'

‘We're not joined at the hip.' That came out harsher than he intended. Ryan pressed his lips together, stopping himself speaking before he'd thought it through.

‘I know. But I thought living together, we'd see more of each other. I'm just settling into the routine of full-time work, that's what Graham said. He's very sensible.'

‘I didn't know you visited your mum's grave.'

‘I don't. Well, I haven't, not before. Not regularly anyway. But after everything, me and Graham decided we'd like somewhere we could go, to remember her. I know she wasn't perfect, but she's the only mum I've got.' He looked at Ryan, his eyes wide, almost as if he was about to cry.

‘How was it?'

‘Sad. Quiet. It rained.'

There was silence. Ryan didn't know what to say. He felt he should apologise for snapping. He squeezed Sam's shoulder. ‘You're all right now, though?'

Sam sniffed loudly, wiped his cheek. ‘Yeah. Course I am. It's just a plaque. She was cremated. We didn't want an actual grave to look after. Graham said he'd looked after Mum enough while she was alive, he didn't want to have to do it when she was dead.' Sam laughed briefly.

Ryan's heart squeezed. This was his best friend. He should be able to tell him everything. Shouldn't he? Silence for a beat. Not awkward, but it felt long to Ryan. Then he said, ‘Then you came home?'

Sam nodded. ‘Tried calling Graham, to tell him where I'd been. Not to guilt trip him, just let him know. No answer. Came back here, online videos, listened to some music, made lunch, then went out. Must have been gone when you got home.' He looked up, his eyes narrowing at Ryan. ‘You had sex, didn't you? You, who hardly ever has sex, who doesn't say which way he swings, who insists he's just Ryan-sexual, you had sex. I can see it on your face.' He peered at Ryan, staring at him closely. ‘It's not guilt, but fun, cos it was a bit dirty. Am I right?'

He totally was. It was dirty and sexy and all sorts of fun, half of which Ryan didn't even know were possible. His cock was sore from all the action it had seen. Was it possible to damage your knob from too much shagging? He might have got near that as a frustrated and horny teenager, furiously masturbating multiple times every day. As he'd aged, he'd sort of forgotten that side of things. Doing it occasionally on his own, and hardly ever with others. Instead, he'd kept himself busy with other stuff – work, family, friends. Sam mainly. But Graham, somehow, had ignited something in Ryan he'd forgotten existed.

Ryan looked away, reached for a beer in the fridge, then gave Sam one.

‘That's a yes,' Sam said, clinking bottles with Ryan. ‘And?'

‘And nothing.' Ryan shook his head.

‘You stayed out all night, got lucky and don't want to talk about it?'

‘About right, yeah. Can we talk about something else, please?'

Sam frowned, shook his head. ‘Second term of the first year, I was grabbed by that girl drama student, she tried to wank me off around the back of the student union bar. Dragged me home to her big house, wherever it was, and we were undressed on the sofa, with me fumbling with a johnnie, when her housemate walked in, switched the light on, switched it off, then left. The girl said, "Come on, get it on!" And she pushed me onto my back and rode me on the sofa until she'd had enough, and I'd just gone, then she climbed off, lit a cigarette, while I dressed, before she chucked me out, without even a cup of tea, and wouldn't make eye contact when I saw her in the corridors afterwards. I told you all of that. You wanted it blow by blow.'

Ryan felt a bit grubby at being reminded of that. Wished he hadn't been so interested in what was really private between Sam, the girl, and the housemate. But for some reason he'd always been a bit obsessed by Sam dating, who he fancied, who he didn't, when he slept with a girl. It was as if Ryan was trying to have a sex life vicariously through Sam. And that didn't sound right either, so he wasn't going to tell Sam. ‘I shouldn't have asked. Dunno why I did. Can you not ask me now, please?'

‘Okay. We'll talk about something else. But I don't see what's so bad you can't tell me. I'm not wanting blow by blow, I mean, I agree, you shouldn't have asked me, and I shouldn't have told you. But we were at uni, we were younger. Besides, that girl's housemate didn't seem bothered, nor did she so…' Sam shrugged.

‘Hungry? I'm starving. Builds an appetite does…all that.' He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

‘See, you can't do that, give me a hint, then clam up. Are you seeing her again?'

Her. Sam assumed he'd slept with a woman. Statistically it was more likely in the general populace that a man would sleep with a woman than another man. Statistically. It was just that Ryan, in this regard, seemed to be in the minority; both of men who didn't seem too interested in sex, and men who, when the occasion arose, wanted to sleep with men, not women. And that was just the statistical side of things, not to mention the emotional side, which Ryan hadn't even begun to consider. Did this mean he'd develop emotions, feelings, an attachment for another man? More than just the physical act. Would he want an actual relationship with Graham, he wondered. It was, a lot, he admitted to himself. Really, a lot. ‘I'm starving. Shall we get some Thai? Nice and spicy. My treat.'

Sam pulled a takeaway menu from the noticeboard. They stuffed them through the door all the time. ‘Or Chinese?'

‘Don't mind,' Ryan said. He was just grateful they weren't talking about last night.

‘Pizza? I could eat a pizza to be honest. Massive meat feast, spicy sausage, peperoni, all the cheese, peppers. Yeah?'

‘You order it.' He gave Sam the money, then left for his room. He lay down on his bed, trying to work out what this all meant. What he felt. What he was going to do next.

Did this mean he was gay? Did it mean he had to come out now? Sam, his parents, he didn't think they'd mind. But it was still a bit weird, like father like son. That wasn't a thing, was it? And he'd always been so clear he definitely didn't find Matt attractive. Not at all. He loved him, like a brother almost, like Sam – who he also didn't find attractive. The two of them were just men. Matt was slim and quite camp, but not false with it, just himself, naturally flamboyant, a bit over the top, he had some effeminate mannerisms. And Sam was kind of boy, man, next door, ordinary, not too blokey, not effeminate, quite understated, quieter, studious, considerate, more than anything he was like Ryan's younger brother. They were both men, but not the same as Graham. Ryan knew all men weren't the same. Knew all gay men didn't fancy all men.

The lifeguard and Graham, now he considered them, they were similar – build, size, hairiness.

Since the evening on the family holiday, and dating at uni, Ryan had rarely slept with anyone else. Only when it was demanded of him. He'd thought he had to find someone's personality attractive, as well as their body. And he didn't go out of his way to find that. He'd become used to being single, being non-sexual, being Ryan-sexual.

Except Graham had sort of landed in his lap. Was that a thing – only finding people sexy if they had a sexy personality? Ryan googled it – it was a thing – so that was good. That was at least something to hold onto, if people asked questions. He wasn't sure if this meant he was actually gay, or bi, or pan, or what, or whether he was only attracted to Graham because of the personality thing first, and the physical side next. Everyone would have questions, and Ryan couldn't get anything straight in his own head first. So, it was best to keep it to himself, he decided. Although he wasn't really clear what it was, he was keeping secret…

‘Food's here!' Sam shouted from the lounge.

‘Coming!' Ryan replied, forcing as much enthusiasm and normality into his tone as he could, but mostly failing. This, these confused emotions, this longing for Graham, the need to see him again, this and a thousand other reasons, were why Ryan thought relationships were for suckers. But he wasn't sure if he was one of those suckers, or if Graham would make all that worthwhile, or if he was better retreating to his shell. That morning, Ryan had felt as if he was on top of the world, it was the highest high he'd ever experienced. Far better than the night with the girl at uni, or in the car with the lifeguard, because with Graham, they had an emotional, personality connection as well as a physical one.

‘Plates or cartons?' Sam shouted, sounding impatient.

Well, Ryan decided finally, all of that, all the thoughts and feelings that were a lot, and swirling around his mind, would have to wait for another day. He left his room, joined Sam in the sitting room on the sofa.

The smell of the pizza filled the air: cheese, tomato and spicy meats.

Sam lifted a slice, handing it to Ryan. ‘It's well tasty.'

But Ryan's appetite had gone. As much as his sense of self, his identity, his beliefs he held about relationships. Everything was on sand, shifting and uncertain. He hoped what he'd done wouldn't ruin one of the few solid, constants in his life: his friendship with Sam.