Heart (17 page)

Mickey leant over and gave me a greasy kiss on the cheek. “Ditto, darling!” We continued to eat and then fed the remains to the seagulls that had been circling us in the hope of supper.

“I have something to confess,” Mickey said when he returned from putting the wrappers in the bin.

“Umm, is this a serious confession?”

“Kind of.” Awkward pause. “You know when Ruby called me and said I’d look after you? Well, she knew it was as much about helping me as you.” His voice had quietened and I struggled to hear him. “I’d chatted with Ruby at an LGBT social and told her I was thinking about packing it all in. I was lonely, despite moving to the city where I thought I’d fit in more than anywhere else, and I was struggling.
You
were my last chance at making it work. Well, Brighton’s last chance!” I cuddled into him even more closely.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? You just let me go on and on about Jake and everything else and never said you were also unhappy. I feel awful.” It hurt me to think that I had been such a selfish cow. I couldn’t remember
ever
asking Mickey how he was. I had been content to just bask in the attention he gave me.

“I liked that you didn’t see that side of me, the unhappy one. What started off as a bit of a show for your benefit became the reality. You made me happy again.” I felt the sting of tears, but this time they weren’t tears of sadness. They weren’t tears about me.

“Aww, Mickey, that’s such a sweet thing to say.” I took his large hand in mine. “Why were you unhappy?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me. Tell me. I want to know.” There was a moment of indecision, when I knew he might duck out of sharing, so I squeezed him closer. “Please.”

“Okay. Now, I don’t want to shock you but… I’m gay!”

“No! I would never have guessed!” We laughed at the absurdity of his declaration being a surprise.

“Now, now, I know it’s hardly a secret but that was my main reason for coming to Brighton: to be able to be me, without fear or shame.”

“Why? Couldn’t you be like this at home?” His laugh held the pain of someone who knew how far the truth was from my innocent question.

“No. My family can’t cope with it at all. Mum ignores it; it’s the proverbial white elephant, but I know she feels disappointed that this means she’ll never get grandkids. I’m an only child, so all of her hopes rested on me.”

“Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you won’t have kids…”

“I know but, to them, that would be even worse. Bringing innocent kids into my
lifestyle choice
.” The last two words were uttered with such sadness, I knew he had heard them, had them thrown at him, too many times. “Dad feels like I’m deliberately letting down the family, that I’m choosing to be different, to cause embarrassment. When I came out to them, they were silent. Honest to God, they never said a fucking word. Silence. Then he asked Mum what was for dinner. He’s only ever mentioned it in anger, issuing ultimatums about keeping it secret, not seeing anyone and so on. I’m not allowed to be who I want to be,
me
, at home. Christ, at one point I thought they were trying to get me to go to some de-gaying centre.” I was thankful I’d never been anything less than fully-loved by my family and felt sad for Mickey, that he didn’t have that.

“Is that why you came to Brighton then?” I hadn’t known much about Brighton’s reputation as the gay capital until I came to the Open Day and realised there was a disproportionate number of rainbow flags hanging from windows. I had soon got over my small-town girl shock at seeing same-sex couples everywhere and now loved its diversity.

“Yeah, I had all these dreams about being accepted, maybe even finding someone to love… you know, getting my happy-ever-after. But it hasn’t been like that. Yes, I’ve been able to be open about who I am, but it’s like I’m in the nursery class and everyone else has already moved on to high school. I don’t know what I’m doing, Neve. I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never even held another guy’s hand. For the first time in my entire life, I’m surrounded by other boys who like boys and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.” Looking at him, I could see how much emotion had gone into opening up like this and I didn’t want to demean it with a joke. I took both his hands in mine.

“Let’s make that the plan on Thursday night.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to Seventh Heaven, aren’t we? Let’s get you to at least first base.”

“You can’t plan stuff like that!”

“Why can’t you? You saw how much snogging was going on when we went last time. Maybe you won’t find your happy-ever-after, but we can at least get you out of first school. What do you reckon, aim for Year 7? Kissing? A little bit of touching, maybe?”

“What are you going to be doing while this is happening, supposing that it does? Watching from the sidelines? Because, frankly, that would be more than a bit weird.”

“No, like the fairy godmother I am, I will be the one making sure you get home before midnight, leaving the prince desperate to find you again.”

“Oh, my God, Neve, I love you! Only you could turn me into Cinderella!”

Dusk had now settled, blurring the sea and sky and chilling the evening air as we made our way back to campus.

Unknown:
How much for an hour?

Struggling to read the text through sleepy eyes, I figured it was a wrong number. After all, it had been sent at three that morning, so definitely wasn’t intended for me.

By the end of the morning, I had received four more texts from unknown numbers, each one asking for increasingly-graphic, specific sexual services. I’d also received a phone call from an unknown number. By that point, I knew this wasn’t a case of someone calling a wrong number and could only come to one conclusion. Garrett.

I showed the texts to Mickey over lunch, hoping he might come up with a less-worrying theory. He couldn’t. In fact, his was worse.

“These texts are sent from unknown numbers, Neve.”

“I know.”

“But how can you send a text anonymously? Sure, you can use 141 to make a call anonymous, but how can you do that on a text? I’ve never heard of it. Even spam texts have a number.” Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure but I don’t think it’s anything good. Do you think it could be Garrett? If it is, this is more sinister than him sending you a few pissed-off messages. This is stalker territory.” Just as his words were sinking in, my phone rang. We both watched it judder across the table, the word ‘Unknown’ taunting me from the screen. Again, the call was ended before the voicemail kicked in. I checked the time.

“Garrett is in class right now, so it can’t be him.”

“Come off it, Neve. We’ve all hidden our phone and sent a secret text or two in lectures. That would only have taken a couple of taps under the desk.” I knew Mickey was right but didn’t want to admit it would be that uneasy to unsettle me as much as those texts and calls had. I thought back to Cass’s advice after the flowers.

“I’m going to see Campus Security. They’ll know what to do.” Because I didn’t.

Within an hour, I had got my phone provider to block any anonymous calls or texts. The girl at the CS desk had said I didn’t need to contact the police unless things carried on. I tried not to think about what those things might be.

I made sure to avoid even looking in Garrett’s direction during my Lit lecture and permanently rescheduled our shared seminar to a different timeslot so I wouldn’t have to sit in such close proximity to him. If only cutting him out of the rest of my life was that easy.

Mickey came to my room for a couple of nerve-reducing drinks before we took a cab to Seventh Heaven. After an hour of dancing, we somehow managed to find a couple of chairs close to the DJ booth, and I took the opportunity to find out more about Mickey’s taste in men.

“So, the blonde guy by the bar, in the red shirt, how many out of ten?”

“Umm, six? Too short.” So he liked tall guys.

“What about him at the other end of the bar? Beard and black top.”

“Four? That beard makes him look like a pantomime villain.” No facial hair then. I scoured the room, looking for a tall, clean-shaven guy worthy of my BBFF.

“Ooh, what about him? He’s gorgeous!”

“Who? You’re going to need to give me more than his gender, here of all places!”

“By that noisy hen party. Wearing a striped shirt. Blonde quiff. Glasses.” Other than the glasses, Mr Gorgeous reminded me a little of Jake. It took Mickey a few seconds to locate him.

“Holy mother of Jesus. That man is beautiful. A ten definitely. But way out of my league.”

“You don’t know that. Go and say hi.”

“Not a chance. Neve, I know enough to know that I will get blown out by someone like that and, frankly, my ego doesn’t need it.” He clearly did believe what he was saying. That meant it was up to me to do something about it.

“Come on,” I said, leading him back to the dance floor. After a few minutes, Mickey had relaxed a bit and I managed to manoeuvre us in the direction of Mr Gorgeous. God, he really was beautiful. I hoped for both Mickey’s and my sake that he was gay. Grinning at Mickey like a madwoman, I went in for the kill.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I lied after bumping into Mr Gorgeous and flashing him a huge smile.

“That’s okay,” he said, returning my smile. Friendly but not interested: definitely gay. “It’s hard not to in here.”
Hard
. Mmmm.

“I’m Neve,” I said, before he had chance to turn away.

“Tom,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and causing his shirt to briefly rise, exposing a smooth, taut stomach. I hoped Mickey was enjoying the show. I was.

“This is Mickey.” I pulled Mickey over. “Mickey, this is Tom.”

“Uh, hi,” was Mickey’s amazingly articulate response.

“I’m just going to get a drink. Can I get you one, Tom?”

“No, I’m great, thanks.” I left the two of them making small-talk as I wound my way to the bar.

Tucking two over-priced bottles of water under one arm, I turned from the bar and tried to spot Mickey, who was no longer where I had left him. I walked through the dancing crowd but there was no sign of him or Tom. Maybe it was because I was starting to worry about Mickey, but, as I looked around, I was sure I glimpsed Garrett. Well, someone who looked just like him from behind. I cast the thought away, knowing Seventh Heaven was hardly sophisticated or cultured enough for Garrett to be interested in being there.

I soon spotted the striped shirt and quiff of Mr Gorgeous in the corner, his back to me. Hoping Mickey was still with him, I wound my way past numerous dancing and smooching couples. Until I realised Mickey and Tom were one of those smooching couples. Suffice to say, Mickey had obviously made it to first base. The two of them kissing was actually quite hot – until I thought about the fact that one of them was Mickey. My BBFF Mickey.
Ugh
!

I left one of the bottles of water at Mickey’s feet and found a space on the dance floor, just a few feet away. Before long, I was immersed in the music, arms in the air, swaying in time with the disco beat.

I jumped when a hand stroked my side, from under my arm and down to my hip. Turning round, it wasn’t Mickey who had touched me. It was Garrett. Garrett with a drunken glaze to his eyes. Garrett whose hand was back on my hip.

“Get off me!” Surrounded by the crowd of dancers, oblivious to what was going on, I hadn’t got much space to pull back from him. I put my arms out to create a barrier between us. Big mistake. That just gave him the opportunity to put both hands on my waist and pull me into his hips. Grinding against me, he attempted to kiss me but I leant back as far as I could to avoid his mouth. “Fuck off!” I slapped him across the face. Hard. The shock made him release me and I managed to move away.

Breathing heavily, I looked around for Mickey, Tom, anyone.

No one.

Garrett pulled my arm so hard my body had no choice but to follow. His head dipped down to mine, probably looking like he was kissing me to anyone who might see us.

“Don’t ever hit me again,” he said, his voice filled with quiet menace.