Chapter
My heart is in my throat as I walk into the freshers meet and greet. I’m a big guy, six-three, and can apparently have the look of an angry rugby player. Strange analogy, but if that’s the impression I give, I apologise.
It’s actually a total one-eighty of who and what I really am.
I’m more of a guy that will trip over his feet the moment everyone, and I mean everyone, is looking at me.
Which is why I’m nervously treading my way into the student union bar.
The Engine Shed is heaving with eighteen-year-olds, most of them living away from home the first time—including me.
There are already groups of men and women talking and laughing as they meet strangers who will become friends, and some even best friends.
I catch sight of a guy. He has a pride badge on his retro Pokémon T-shirt.
He’s laughing hard, his head thrown back as he enjoys whatever is being said to him.
He looks so free and happy. I know I want to talk to him.
I go to the bar first and get another pint of beer before turning back to look for him.
Almost as though he were a magnet, I find him, and he’s looking straight at me.
Or maybe it’s my pride badge. He says something to the people he’s with and makes his way in my direction.
“Nice badge,” he says, pointing to my chest. “I’m Memphis.”
“Finn,” I blurt out and thrust my hand forward. Unfortunately, it’s the one holding my pint, and I nearly throw the whole thing at him. “Shit! I’m so sorry.”
He jumps neatly back a step, dodging the splash and laughs the same way he did before. He exudes life and fun. “Nice to meet you, Finn. I think.”
“Cool name, by the way. There must be a story there,” I say, but his smile falters, and I’m back-pedalling my words. “I’m sorry. I guess you get that a lot. If it helps, my name is really Finnegan, after some rich old relative from generations ago.”
Memphis snorts beer out of his nose. “Oh my god, I think that’s worse. You poor thing. Please tell me you don’t plan to pass it on to your son.”
“Um, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda gay. I don’t think kids are something that’s going to happen to me.” I laugh and take a hefty gulp of my pint.
“You really think that? Maybe you should tell my dads that.”
“Your dad’s what?” I’m confused; what’s he on about?
“No, not my dad, my dads—both of them.” I hold back my grin when his eyes all but bug out of his head.
I know I’ve had more than a few pints now, but did he mean he has two dads? “Huh? You’re going to have to explain this one to me.”
“Yeah, it’s a long story though,” he pauses, and I gesture for him to carry on.
“I got kicked out of my family and home when I was fifteen and spent the nights sleeping in the doorway of a gym. One night, a guy came up to me with Mackie D’s and the offer of a place to stay.
And yes, before you say it, it sounded dodgy as fuck.
But honestly, the guy was gorgeous, and if he wanted to give me a bed for the night, it wouldn’t have been a hardship.
It turned out he was telling the truth. I stayed there until coming here.
They’re not really my dads, but they wanted to be.
They offered to adopt me; I said thank you but no. It wasn’t right for me.”
“Why wasn’t it right? Sounds like a sweet deal to me,” I say, but from the look in his eyes, it wasn’t the right thing to say. “I’m sorry. It’s not my business. Sorry about your birth family, too; I can’t imagine how scary that must’ve been.”
He shrugs off the apologies, like it’s long in the past. “What about your family, do they know?”
“Yeah, just a bit, I thought my mum was going to have a coming out party. She was a little bit too enthusiastic when I took my boyfriend home.” I finish my pint and stand up. “Same again?”
“Nah, thanks though. I’ve still got some unpacking to do.” He stands up too. I don’t want to let him go yet.
“One more, then I’ll come and help.” I put my hands together, praying, giving him puppy dog eyes.
With a head shake and a laugh, he agrees and sits back down again.
The night ends up messy, with us both getting totally trollied. I don’t remember how we got back to his room, but we wake up sprawled on his single bed. We’re still fully dressed and groaning as we clutch our heads.
“I’m blaming you,” he grumbles as he tries getting vertical and sways. “I need food, something to soak up the alcohol.”
We find a busy greasy-spoon café and get the last two seats and order a full English breakfast, coffee, and orange juice.
The moan of pleasure that escapes his lips should have my dick twitching, because this guy is totally my type. Small, easy to manhandle and have over my knee to spank. But he doesn’t. I think he’s awesome, so funny and clever. I want him to be my friend.
“What dorm are you in?” Memphis asks as he picks up his coffee.
I’m surprised he hasn’t asked this earlier, but after hearing about his family rejecting him, I’m a little embarrassed and cautious about telling him. I copy him and take a swig of my coffee, the liquid burning my mouth. I resist spitting it back into the mug, swallowing it down, then coughing.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern mixed with humour in is voice.
“Yeah, sorry. Brain to mouth malfunction. To answer your question, I’m not in a dorm. I’ve got a house here.”
“Oh,” he says, surprised. “I didn’t think you came from Lincoln, you have a bit of a Scottish accent. It’s faint, but there.”
“Um, yeah, I come from Fife, but I went to a boarding school in Yorkshire, so it’s faded.
My parents bought a house down here for me.
I’m thinking about having someone share with me.
It’s got two bedrooms.” Would he be interested in that?
After six years at school, I’ve had enough of dorms, although we had our own rooms after years seven and eight.
“That’s amazing, lucky you. Don’t you think you’re missing out on student life, though?”
“Not really. It’s in a really central part of town. Do you want to come and see it? I could do with a change of clothes.”
It only takes a month for Memphis to give up his dorm room and move in. It’s another month after that we discover our individual sexual preferences. Me, a Dom, and Memphis a little—and a totally adorable one too.