LUKE
It’s seven thirty in the morning when I drop off a set of weights to Sam. I start to put them on the table, but it groans and I shift them to the floor in the corner of the room, under the windows.
Sam crashes through the door, back from a run. Sweat is dripping down the sides of his flushed face. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand and leans against the kitchen bench catching his breath. “You do this every day?” he wheezes.
I laugh and go into the kitchen to pour him a glass of water. He guzzles it down.
“But I do feel revitalized,” he says after finishing his water. “I think I could get used to this not having to work thing.”
I snort. “Yeah. Feel you there.”
He looks at me over his empty glass. I stand across from him not doing anything except leaning back against the bench as well, watching him. “When does your sabbatical end exactly?” he asks.
“I’m going in to talk to my boss this morning. She knows I’m back in Wellington now. I think I’ll start with the new school year.”
“Makes the most sense.” Sam peels off his wet T-shirt and moves out of the dining room toward the bathroom. I follow, just to the door. He dumps the T-shirt in the wash hamper and looks at my reflection in the mirror. “You think we’ll get sick of each other if we’re hanging out days and nights now?”
I catch the breath that has rushed out of me, and smile. Hell no, absolutely not. “Guess we’ll see.”
He laughs and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. “All right. I gotta shower. You mind getting Jeremy’s lazy ass out of bed?”
I pull the bathroom door shut, and stand there smiling stupidly to myself. Like I’ll get sick of spending more time with him. This is what I’ve wanted for a while now. Some him-and-me time that wasn’t constantly interrupted by, well, life.
I hear Sam hum a tune and I stay a little while longer to listen, feeling his voice vibrate through the door and into my skin. With a shiver, I reluctantly pull away and stroll toward Jeremy’s room. The lazy bum, he should’ve been up a half hour ago to get to school on time.
The door is slightly ajar and I push it open. “Wakey-wakey, time to—”
Holy crap!
I grab the door handle and yank the door shut.
Jeremy is cursing like a sailor and I feel like doing the same. I hurry down the hall and into the kitchen. Crap. There are just some things you should never, ever walk in on. And your best friend’s son spread out on top of his bed having a morning wank is one of them.
Almost the very tippy-top of the heap of what not to walk in on.
I yank open the fridge. I don’t care that it’s seven-freaking-thirty in the morning, I want a beer.
Unfortunately, the fridge has barely anything in it except for a half carton of milk and some cheese and eggs. I take the milk and drink it right from the carton.
Two minutes later, Jeremy sulks into the room, dressed and blushing. He doesn’t look at me, and I don’t look at him.
The quiet between us is so tense, I can hear Sam humming. Suddenly this shower he’s having feels like it’s taking forever even though he can’t have been in there for more than a couple of minutes.
“Uh, so, you want scrambled eggs?” I ask after an awkward stretch.
“Fuck,” Jeremy says, and I think this is one of the occasions where a swear word is just fine. He slumps further down on his chair and half looks up at me. “Could you, like, not tell dad?”
“Scrambled eggs it is,” I say. I put a pan on the stove, and drizzle some oil on it.
This is the worst kind of awkward. For the both of us, no doubt. And I’m not really sure of my role. What I can or should say. I want to opt for saying nothing, but I don’t want Jeremy to think what he was doing is wrong.
“Look, man, we’re all guys here. We all do it, okay?” I crack an egg, but the pan is not hot enough. “Just lock the door next time, alright?”
He mumbles something and turns to look out of the window, where clear skies promise a sunny day.
When the eggs are done, Sam finally struts into the room. He’s dressed in brown slacks and a tan shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks good. Very good. “Why’re you dressed up this morning?” I ask, shoveling egg onto three plates.
He shrugs, but I catch a glimpse of a blush. “You just rarely see me in the morning without my work clothes on. But, um, I look alright?”
So much so, I want to nip every part of your body with kisses and taste you. “Sure, man.”
Sam grabs the toast that’s just popped, smears it with butter and adds it to the three plates. “Careful,” he says to me when we are all sitting at the rickety table eating, “I could get used to my mornings like this.”
A stream of sun comes into the room and warmth floods over me, and I wonder if I’d have felt the warmth even if the sun hadn’t been there.
Jeremy scoffs his food, and barely looks up when he shoves back from the table. His dishes clatter in the sink, and then he scuffs his feet over the floor, which makes Sam’s jaw twitch.
“Clean your dishes,” Sam starts, but I stop him.
“I said I’d do them this morning.”
Jeremy is relieved. I see it in the way his shoulders drop. “Yeah. Thanks, Luke,” he says. Then to his dad he says, “I’m going to be late back after school—Steven and I are stopping by Mum’s place. I left an assignment there we’ve been working on.”
Sam nods at him. “Sure.” His arms twitch, as if he wants to ask Jeremy for a hug but doesn’t dare to anymore. It makes me want to take hold of his hand, twine our fingers together and squeeze. “You need me to give you a lift in?”
“Nah,” Jeremy says, and leaves.
I look at Sam and lift a questioning brow.
“It’s uncool,” he explains with a shrug. “He’d rather take the bus.”
“He’s grown into a real teen since I left.”
Sam rests back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling, sighing. “Yeah. And I have no fucking idea what to do with him half the time.” He peeks at me out the corner of his eye, and his lips twitch into a smile. “But you’re around now. You’ll help me out, right?”
I want to lean over, cup his face and kiss him. I want him to know I’ll always be there for him. That I’m here as long as he wants me to be—and that I hope that’s forever.
I shake off the fantasy, stand up instead, and take both our plates to the kitchen. “I’ll do whatever I can, but teens elude me too, most of the time. It’s why I like working with pre-teens.”
Sam watches me as I wash the dishes. I wonder what he’s thinking about, but don’t want to ask and break his concentration on me. I like that he unabashedly gazes at me the way he does sometimes.
Finally he looks away, glancing toward the corner of the room. He spots the weights and jumps off the chair. “Awesome!” He picks one up and drops it back down again. “Damn, that’s heavy.”
I laugh. “You did say you want to get nasty fit.”
He waggles his brows. “That’s right.”
I wipe my hands on my jeans and come over to him and the weights. Crouching, I take off the extra rounds and give him something more suitable. “Start with this, okay?” He tries it. “Do you want to do something before we go for lunch? We could go for a swim.” I hear the nerves in my voice, and try to temper it by clearing my throat and shrugging. “Or whatever.”
Putting down the weights, he shakes his head. “No can do, Luke. There’s something I’ve got to do this morning.”
I hide my disappointment behind another shrug. “Lunch then.”
We are both crouching, staring at the equipment at our feet. “Can’t wait,” Sam says, and then I feel his gaze lift up to me. I can’t bring myself to meet it. It’s too intense to look at him when we are so close. I might not be able to pull back from making my fantasies happen.
I’m just about to stand when Sam does something he’s never done before. He casually rests his hand just above my knee and uses me to push himself up. I feel his touch linger on my thigh and my pulse doubles.
“This is going to be the start of an awesome holiday,” Sam says. I nod, the only thing I am capable of doing.
* * *
At Kresley Intermediate, the school where I teach, I find the principal and we talk about reinstating me in the new school year.
I wait until the very end before I open up to her about my sexual orientation. I’ve hidden it long enough, and I don’t want to anymore. She takes the news with barely a blink and assures me it’s no problem. She consoles me with the knowledge that there are a few other gay and lesbian staff members.
I know one of them is Jack. Know because we used to be together.
It’s first break, and I find Jack in his wood workshop. Despite him leaving me seven years ago—because I didn’t want to come out to my family—we remained friends. Sometimes with benefits. Although that has gotten less and less over the years.
Jack is stacking some planks of wood at the back of the room when I show up.
I knock on the open door.
When he sees me, he straightens and flashes me a shit-eating grin. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
We meet halfway inside the room and I reach out and pull him into a hug, hitting him lightly over the back of his sawdust-colored hair like I used to. “Hey, man.”
“Hey yourself,” he says gruffly. “Been too long, Luke.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Mum’s stable now, so I’m back. I start again next school year. I can’t wait to get back properly.” Well, actually, considering this holiday I’m sort of sharing with Sam, I can wait. But generally, I’m excited to be coming back to work, teaching physical education and health.
“I’ll make sure we get our co-coaching positions again,” he says as he sits on a workbench.
I lean back against the bench opposite, and I give him a run down of my time in Auckland. When I get to the part about coming out to my mum and sister, he straightens and blinks.
“So,” he says, and his grin is growing, “you finally met someone that means enough for you to step out of the closet. He must be a real charmer.” He shakes his head, and there’s the briefest moment where he winces, but he quickly schools his face. “So everyone knows now, huh?”
I dig both hands into my pockets and tap my thumbs on the outside of my jeans. I feel Sam’s list over my right palm, and swallow.
Jack sucks in a breath. “So who haven’t you told?”
I laugh, but I’m berating myself at the same time. “The charmer.”
“The guy you came out for doesn’t know you’re gay? Hmmm, now why do I get the feeling that spells disaster?”
With a wince, I push away from the bench and pace the aisle. “Because it does. He’s straight. And my neighbor.”
“Oh Christ. The friend you’ve been talking about for the last decade? I should have seen this coming.”
“So should I. And seven years. Not a decade.”
He shakes his head. “It just gets worse.”
I look around for something to toss at him, but there’s nothing. I sigh instead. “I’m going to tell him. I just have to find the right moment.”
Jack jumps down from the bench. “There’s never a right moment. You up for getting coffee?”
“Sure.” I follow him out. On the way, I pass his student noticeboard and a flyer catches my attention. “You’re running carpentry courses for adults?”
Jack glances at me over his shoulder. “Every Saturday.”
“That’s new.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have a neighbor-friend to keep me otherwise occupied.” His laugh echoes around the corridor between classrooms as we leave the workshop.
“You not refurbishing old houses and selling them for a good buck anymore?”
“Haha, yeah. Actually I’m working on a cottage in Rory Street. But running the workshop is great. I can get a lot of shit done at the same time. Last week I managed to make the new skirting boards for the kitchen.”
“Does it get easier, selling them once you’re done?”
He shakes his head. “And this one, she’s a real beauty. I’m tempted to keep her, but I need the money. Still want to build my own damn home someday.”
“Does this mean you’ll be busy refitting kitchens or what-not on Sunday?”
“That depends. What’s on Sunday?”
“A soccer game, if you’ll help me set it up.”
Jack lets loose his shit-eating grin again. “I’m sure I can squeeze that in. But only if I get to meet your charmer first.”