Chapter 7

I pace my room for the umpteenth time. I feel cooped up in here, but I don't know what to do with myself. I'd spent some time with my gran, but I wasn't good company. Everything inside feels discordant, like a puzzle where the pieces have been fitted together incorrectly. I cannot be having these feelings about my best friend. It's not fair to him. There must be something wrong with me.

Perhaps it's because I haven't been with anyone for a while. Perhaps all I need is some dick. Pent-up sexual frustration, and I focus on my best friend. It's sick, really. It's been a long time since I've been out and had a hook-up. That's what I need to get this out of my system.

I pick up my phone and punch out a message to Riley, one of my friends I met through going to the club. He and his boyfriend Kieran are probably my closest friends, apart from Darcy.

Nick: Are you guys going to be at Brazen tonight?

I wait a few minutes for a reply.

Riley: OMG! Nick, is that you? I thought you'd fallen off the face of the planet

Nick: Haha. Still around, just been a bit busy

Riley: Whatevs

Riley: Yeah we'll be there from ten. Kieran says hi

Nick: Say hi back. I'll see you later

I feel better now that I have a plan. It's simple. Go out, get some dick. Be able to face my best friend again without embarrassing myself.

I shower thoroughly and choose my clothes carefully. White skintight jeans and a netted tank top in blue. I deliberate about underwear. If I'm going out, I like to wear lace. I have some nice lacy and silky pairs. It was embarrassing the day that my mum found them. Living in a house like this, it's difficult to have secrets, and my mum had gone ferreting around in my room for some washing. I remember coming home from work one day and she followed me into my room when I went to get changed.

"Mum, I need to get showered. I'm going out in a bit."

"Are you going to wear these?" She held up some lacy black briefs. My face heated to what felt like a hundred degrees as I snatched them out of her hand.

"Mum!" I was appalled she'd found them, as I thought I'd hidden them well. I had no idea what to say to her. I was eighteen at the time and not as comfortable with myself as I am now.

"I have two things to say," she said, leaning against my door frame. I remember looking at her, horrified and scared.

"One. Probably best to not let your father know. This might be a step too far." She was right. He'd accepted I was gay in his own, quiet way. Sometimes it's hard to know what he's thinking, but he doesn't mention it and I don't flaunt it. I know lots of friends who'd had much worse experiences, including being kicked out and cut off from their families, so I didn't push it.

"And two, don't wear these, love. They feel cheap, like you've got them off the market. Let me get you something nice, eh?"

I was still embarrassed, but I remember sagging onto my bed and my mum sitting next to me rubbing my back while I sobbed onto her shoulder. It was the first time I'd known she fully accepted me. I think that for the two years after I'd come out to them, I'd been holding in a lot of tension, wondering if they were hoping I'd get over it, or if it was just a phase, which had been a refrain I'd heard a lot as a child. From then on, I knew my mum was on my side, and whilst I didn't shove it in my dad's face, I didn't feel I had to hide who I was, tiptoeing around their disapproval.

My gran was a different matter entirely. I remember telling her I was gay and her reply was, "Of course you are dear. Now go put the kettle on, and we'll have the blue china today to celebrate as I'm glad you've finally told me." I must have stared at her for a full minute with my mouth open before she gave me her trademark grin and said, "I think we'll have the chocolate biscuits as well, don't you?" And that had been that. She told me later that she'd known for a long time. I wish she'd told me. It might have saved me a lot of teenage angst.

In the end, I don't bother with underwear. I'm not going to find someone who'll appreciate it, and it's just going to get in the way of what I have planned and slow me down.

I style my hair, applying wax to get it to fall over one eye and adding spray to get it to hold. I notice the small piece of sea glass I have in a trinket bowl on the dresser. I pick it up and run my fingers over it, remembering when Darcy had given it to me, having brought it back from a visit to a beach. The Franklins don't have holidays, so he'd have been in a competition. Most likely Blackpool, Brighton, or Bournemouth. I don't know where, since they all sound the same to me. I remember telling him it's the exact colour of his eyes, and how they shone when I said so. I sigh and place it back in the bowl, reminding myself that I'm doing this to preserve my friendship, and ignoring the slight unease I feel in my stomach. I return to getting ready by applying some makeup—eyeliner and some blue round my eyes. I add a bit of glitter to my cheeks, and some lip gloss. I even paint my nails: neon yellow to show up in the dark club. I haven't been to Brazen for a few months, so Riley's comment was justified, but I feel excited. It's just what I need right now.

My friends are creatures of habit, so I know exactly where I'll find them when I enter the club. Kieran squeals and launches himself at me, and I hug him back. Perhaps it has been too long. Kieran is short and slim, with ginger curls and a freckled nose. He looks a lot younger than his twenty-three years. Riley, in contrast, is tall and well built, a bear of a guy. He gives me a quick hug and then disappears for a few minutes, reappearing holding three bright blue drinks. I don't usually drink alcohol when I'm out, preferring water because I need to take in a lot of fluids as I dance a lot. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to dull the edges a little tonight. It's sweet and syrupy, which is good, as I prefer them that way.

It's difficult to be heard over the music but we manage to shout our latest news to each other. Riley says that when the weather is a bit warmer, they're planning a trip up to the Slippery Stones—a natural swimming pool in Peak National Park, just a short drive out of the city—and asks me to join them. I love it up there and haven't been for a while. I nod enthusiastically in agreement. Then I shake my head when Riley offers to fetch another drink. Instead, I drag my friends to the dance floor. I spend the next couple of hours just giving myself over to the beat of the music, the heat, the darkness, and the writhing bodies. I'm enjoying myself, but I haven't forgotten my main purpose. A couple of people dance with me; one of them, a tall guy probably in his thirties, jerks his head and gives me a smile. I understand his invitation well enough. He's handsome, but not what I'm looking for tonight. I shake my head and he smiles and shrugs, turning back to the melee to try his luck somewhere else. I get caught up in the music again for a while before I notice someone is dancing with me. He's dark haired, a few inches shorter than me, and looks very fine in his shorts and tight T-shirt. He mirrors my moves for a while, dancing closer and closer. He turns and pushes his ass towards me, so I grab his hips. He flashes me a cute grin over his shoulder and deliberately pushes back into me, both of us gyrating in sync to the music. The effect of his ass rubbing against me and the increased friction from wearing no underwear soon has me very hard. Something that's not lost on him as he looks back at me again with a suggestive smile. This is exactly what I want—some easy, no-strings way to release my tension. I give him a nod and he takes my hand as we head towards the bathrooms. Thankfully, there's a cubicle free, as I don't want to spend time canoodling or, even worse, having to make conversation while we wait. I push him inside and close the door behind us, leaning back against the door. My breathing is fast and shallow, partly from the vigorous dancing, but also in anticipation. I tip my head back as he drops to his knees, licking his lips. This is definitely what I need. He undoes my jeans and releases my cock. It had been uncomfortable in my tight jeans and I hum in contentment that it feels good to free it.

He chuckles. "Mmm commando, I like it." I look down at him. He flickers his eyes up at me, his mouth heading straight to take me in.

Time. Stands. Still.

His eyes are green and opalescent, not the bright sea glass of my dreams. I hadn't noticed the colour in the darkness of the dance floor, but here, under the harshness of the strip light, all is laid bare. I can see what I'm doing in stark reality, with no filters, and it feels very wrong, like the high-pitched wail of a tuneless violin.

My chest constricts and I can't draw in air.

I push his head away from me, not wanting him anywhere near me. I scramble to push my cock back into my jeans whilst spinning round, fumbling with the door lock in my haste to get out of there.

I barely register his shout. A pissed-off call of, "You fucking tease!" I can't blame him, but I don't turn back. Instead, I push through the crowds, feeling like I'm trying to move underwater. Eventually, I burst out of the entrance and into the street. I feel groggy, and I use the wall of the building as support until I reach an alleyway that runs along the side. I bend over, hands on my knees, and lose my dinner and the sweet blue drink, which doesn't taste half as nice coming back up. Once I've lost the contents of my stomach, I lean on the side of the cool stone building. I feel like shit and just want to go home. I head out onto the street to look for a taxi, and once inside, fire off a quick message to Riley. He sends one back that'd he'd seen me disappear and guessed I was having a good time. I throw my phone down on the seat next to me. I haven't the energy to explain right now.

But what can I explain? Who runs out on getting their cock sucked? A dickhead, that's who. All I could think of at that moment was Darcy. Darcy and his clear green eyes, even though there's never going to be a time when he looks at me like that. The shock I felt was that it was him I wanted. At that moment, I wanted Darcy to be the one on his knees before me. Anyone else felt like I was cheating on him.

The taxi pulls up outside my house, and I pay the driver. I try to be as quiet as possible as I unlock the back door. I pull my clothes off and throw them in the wash basket, stepping into the shower to try to scrub the feeling of repulsion off my body. I'm disgusted at the truth that I want my best friend and almost cheated on a relationship we can never have. I climb into bed feeling no better, but at least my skin no longer crawls.

I toss and turn for at least an hour, sleep drawing further and further away. As much as I try not to think of Darcy, the more difficult it becomes, and in my weakness, the tender and sweet moments creep up on me. They lie in wait for me, showing me a technicolour movie of our more memorable moments every time I close my eyes. My cock, answering only to the base need inside me that wants Darcy, is hard and aching. My head fights back, as there is no way I'm rubbing one out over my best friend. Sleep eludes me, mocking my refusal to give in. I struggle to lie in a comfortable position while my head battles with my body. Time stretches and I lie on my back, rigid, my jaw clenched, refusing to touch myself. In the end, something else takes over and, in an attempt to find some comfort, I turn over and punch my pillow in desperation. The next minute I'm on my knees, head in my pillow, my hand wrapped round my cock, powerless to stop myself now I've started. I squeeze my eyes shut, my pillow dampening from the tears as I try to not hear my slapping flesh painting the sound of my failure. Release comes quickly, and I groan piteously, exhaustion claiming me as I collapse into a pool of self-loathing.