Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
O n his weekly phone call to his mum back home in Broken Hill—the one that was more like a monthly phone call these days—Harry talked a lot about successfully completing his prac at Saint Robert’s, but didn’t say a single thing about Jack. He wasn’t even sure why. He thought it was maybe because explaining Jack would lead to Mum asking him why he’d never said he was gay before, because that was what Mum would think. That he was gay. He doubted her imagination would even stretch to bi, let alone demi. And Harry didn’t really want to tell her that he wasn’t keeping his sexuality a big secret or anything, but how was he supposed to explain that until Jack, he didn’t think his dick did that?
So it was easier to just say nothing at all about that massive development in his life, and pretend that he was just the same as the last time they talked. Except he didn’t feel the same, and it had nothing to do with how often he was getting erections these days—it was all to do with the warm feeling in the centre of his chest that spread out in tingles all the way to his fingers and toes when he heard Jack rattling around in the kitchen cooking them dinner .
“…and your father’s bringing her to dinner,” Mum said. “He said she’s shitting herself!”
Harry’s parents had been divorced for a few years now, but they were still on more than friendly terms. Dad still rocked up for dinner once a week, and Mum called him if she needed help moving heavy furniture and stuff like that. Dad’s new girlfriend—Marge from the council—was having a hard time wrapping her head around it, apparently. So had Harry, when it had happened. If you liked someone enough to stay friends, why didn’t you like them enough to stay married? But he thought that maybe he got it now. Friends didn’t make your fingers go tingly when you heard them humming in the kitchen.
Tristan slunk into the living room, hungover, and collapsed on the couch.
Harry angled himself away from him so he wasn’t distracted by his self-pitying moans. “Does she think you’re going to extract horrible revenge on her or something?”
“Maybe!” Mum sounded delighted at the idea. “Oh, and also, Dad wants to know what you want for your birthday.”
“My birthday’s not for another eight months.”
“I know. Marge bought him an organiser, and he’s gotten a little bit carried away. I give it about a week before he forgets to ever fill it in again.”
“Money,” Harry said. “Money’s always good.”
He was a broke uni student, so he had no qualms about begging. And he’d been a little more broke in the two weeks since he started dating Jack, because he hadn’t exactly been getting back to the people who had called Bad Boyfriend. He had at least four messages he was ignoring. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about going on dates, even if they were fake, when Jack was his boyfriend. Even Ambrose had given up being a Bad Boyfriend when he’d started going out with Liam, so it wasn’t like it was nothing, right? It wasn’t just Harry being new and uncertain of how to navigate a relationship. Not if Ambrose had done it first. But he also didn’t know how to bring the whole thing up with Jack. What was the etiquette for saying, “So, do you mind if I spend Saturday night being awful to a girl from my uni class for rent money?”
And in the meantime, while he was dithering and not knowing what to do, he had no money. He’d spent way too much on glitter glue for prac, and pipe cleaners were a specialty craft item these days, because nobody actually smoked pipes anymore. They probably used to be dirt cheap when the entire population was coughing up their lungs on the regular. And as for the price of feathers? It would be cheaper to buy an entire chicken. He’d wasted so much money on craft supplies for kids he’d probably never see again, but he couldn’t really bring himself to regret it, even if it left him in a financial squeeze.
God, he realised as he mentally calculated his bank balance while he listened to Mum cackle about coming home to find the chooks had escaped into the neighbours’ vegetable patch, he needed to be a Bad Boyfriend again, and soon, if he wanted to pay rent this month. And he did, because he liked having luxuries like a roof over his head.
“I’ve got to go, Mum. Dinner’s almost ready,” he lied, because as much as he loved her, he couldn’t listen and think about money at the same time. He had the horrible feeling that she’d pick up on his distraction and ask if he was doing okay, and she’d know if he lied. She always did.
“Oh, what are you having?” Mum asked.
“Um, I don’t know. Jack, our new roommate, is cooking.” He shot a guilty look at Tristan, who had opened his eyes long enough to give him a ‘huh, interesting’ look before succumbing to his hangover again .
“Well, I hope it’s nice,” Mum said. “Love you, and don’t leave it so long to call next time, sweetheart.”
“I love you too,” Harry said. “And I won’t. Bye.” He ended the call.
Tris gave him another look but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Harry was judging himself harshly enough.
He fiddled with his phone while a guilty bird did loop-the-loops in his stomach. “Don’t,” he muttered. “Don’t say anything.”
“I didn’t,” Tris pointed out.
“Good.” He sat there, silent and miserable and feeling like shit, until Jack called out that dinner was ready.
Jack kept throwing him worried glances all through dinner, which didn’t make Harry feel any better about the whole conversation he knew they needed to have. Jack was an actual decent human being, and Harry was new at this whole relationship business so he had no idea how he was supposed to ask his boyfriend if he could keep dating other people. Plus, he knew he definitely shouldn’t have called Jack his roommate when he’d been talking to Mum. He could only imagine how he’d react if Jack pulled that on him. Not that Jack ever would, because he wasn’t a coward like Harry.
He prodded at his sausages listlessly, and when Tris pushed his half-eaten plate away with a moan and staggered back to his room and it was just the two of them, Jack finally asked “Okay, what’s going on? Is it something I did?”
Harry bit his lip. “No, it’s not you. It’s…” He took a deep breath. “I’ve got some Bad Boyfriend calls I have to return, for people who want dates.”
Jack perked up. “That’s great, isn’t it? Because I noticed it’s been quiet, but I thought it was because you were busy with prac.”
Harry lifted his head from where he was drawing patterns in his gravy with his fork. “You don’t mind if I call them?”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Why would I mind you doing your job?’
“Because we’re dating? And it feels a bit like cheating?”
Jack put his knife and fork down and sighed. “You’re an actor, Harry. You turn up and play a part. It’s not real, so it doesn’t matter to me if you go on fifty fake dates.”
Harry took a moment to parse that. Jack certainly didn’t seem upset, but still. “Then why did Ambrose quit when he and Liam got together?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only met Ambrose once. But didn’t you say he got that stranger danger van gig instead, and he wanted his evenings free for acting jobs?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. “So it’s weird I thought maybe I should quit too? Or that you wouldn’t like me doing it?”
Jack’s eyebrows tugged together. “I… Ambrose is Ambrose, and you’re you. If you want to quit, then quit. But it shouldn’t be because of what I think. Or what you think I think. I’m not jealous that you go on bad dates, Harry.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “As long as you save the good ones for me.”
Harry’s skin suddenly felt two sizes too small. He swallowed and blinked his stinging eyes. “Oh, fuck you,” he said, when he tried to say something romantic instead, “how are you so good at this?”
Jack’s smile grew. “At what?”
“At saying the right stuff. At being a boyfriend.”
A faint flush rose on Jack’s cheeks. “Um, I don’t know? I just like you a lot, and I think I’m lucky to have you. ”
No. Jack was wrong . He was so fucking wrong. He wasn’t lucky to have Harry—Harry was lucky to have him . Jack made his skin tingle. Jack made him come and didn’t even ask for anything in return. Jack didn’t make fun of him for not knowing what he was doing, either with the dick stuff or the feelings stuff, and Harry was…Harry was falling for him, and it should have felt terrifying, except it just felt right. Like falling was the best feeling in the world.
Why did they call it falling, when really, it was like flying?
“I just…” Harry wrinkled his nose. “Okay, this is super weird, but I promise it’s relevant. I just have to send a text real quick.”
Jack watched him quizzically. “Right now?”
“Right now,” Harry said, before he lost his nerve. He opened up his chat with Mum and Dad. Well, it was mostly Mum, but Dad chimed in occasionally with terrible jokes and things he thought were memes but really weren’t.
Just letting you know. Please don’t be weird. Jack isn’t just my roommate. He’s my boyfriend too.
He hit Send, then turned his phone off.
“What was that?” Jack asked.
“Um, just setting the record straight with my parents,” he said. “About having a boyfriend.”
“Harry, did you just come out over text message?”
Harry’s face heated up. “Maybe. Yes. Is that wrong? I mean, I think they’ll be cool with it. They’re pretty cool about everything. But also, I don’t want to answer any questions like why didn’t I tell them before? How am I supposed to tell them that I didn’t tell them because I didn’t know yet?”
Jack shrugged. “You could just say it like that. ”
“Don’t you think…don’t you think it’s stupid to not know?”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve been at uni too long and you think everything’s a test. But really, life’s a learning curve. At the risk of sounding like one of my Dad’s sermons, or one of Mia’s rants, it’s a journey, and sometimes it brings us to places we weren’t expecting, and that’s fine. That’s life. Besides, you’re not stupid. I didn’t know until last year that Beijing and Peking were the same place.”
“I don’t think that’s the same.”
“I’m just saying, if I’d still been at uni, I would have been laughed out of my geopolitics lecture for that. Look! I can tell by your face that you’re judging me for it even now.”
“I’m not!” Harry exclaimed, but he laughed, which he thought was probably Jack’s point.
Jack laughed with him, and looking at his bright smile and the way his eyes sparkled, Harry found himself wanting. And not just physically, although that was entangled through his feelings in a way it would be impossible to unknot, but in an even deeper way. He wanted all of Jack. And he wanted to make Jack happy, just like Jack did so effortlessly for him. Not with any expectation of being repaid in kind, but just because he wanted to keep that smile on his face for as long as possible
He stood and grabbed their plates and dumped them in the sink, then he reached out and tugged at the front of Jack’s shirt, pulling him to his feet. With a bravery fuelled by more than simple lust, he backed Jack up so his arse was perched on the edge of the table, pressed himself close, and kissed him—not soft and sweet, but deep and hungry and needy. Jack took all of three seconds to respond, wrapping his hands around Harry’s back and opening his mouth at the press of Harry’s tongue.
Harry let out a moan as he slipped his tongue inside, and he pushed Jack’s legs apart so he could slot himself into the vee there. He tangled one hand in Jack’s hair the way he knew he liked, tilted his head so their mouths lined up better and slid the other hand between them to cup the front of Jack’s jeans, quietly relieved to find a solid bulge there that reassured him that he couldn’t be fucking this up too badly.
Jack rocked forward into his hand before pulling back from the kiss and letting out a soft groan. “Harry, you don’t have to?—”
“No, but I want to,” Harry said, and flicked the button on Jack’s jeans undone. He buried his face against the curve of Jack’s neck to hide the blush he could feel rising on his face and slid the zipper down. The sound was loud in his own ears, competing with the rapid beating of his heart as he cupped Jack’s erection through the satin of his boxers, the fabric smooth and slippery under his touch. For a moment he was seized by indecision—could he really do this?—but then he almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought. It was a dick. He had one of his own and was familiar enough with it to know it didn’t bite. And the idea of touching Jack’s dick, of getting him off, was hot .
Jack let out a low groan, and that was all the encouragement Harry needed. He worked his hand inside the elastic waistband of Jack’s underwear and ran his fingers down the length of his dick, making Jack pull in a sharp breath. Harry braved a look at his face, and found Jack with his eyes closed, mouth hanging open, and that was sexier than it had any right to be. He wondered if this was how Jack felt when he got Harry off, if this was what he was talking about when he said that it was satisfying even if he didn’t come. Because if that was the case, Harry totally got it now.
He formed his fingers into a loose circle and wrapped it around Jack’s shaft, marvelling at the silkiness of the skin, the heat of flesh against his palm. He eased his hand up and down once, experimenting, then tightened his grip slightly. Jack’s hips bucked up hard enough that the table legs scraped against the floor with the force of his movements, so Harry did it again.
“Fuck,” Jack panted. “Harry, I’m not gonna last!”
Something like pride swelled in Harry’s chest at making Jack fall apart so easily. He pulled Jack in for another kiss and stroked his dick some more, trying to remember what felt good when he did this to himself. He dragged a thumb across the head through the precum leaking there, and Jack whined against his mouth, high and needy. Encouraged, Harry set a steady rhythm, and despite the awkwardness of the angle and working around the tight confines of Jack’s jeans, it took less than thirty seconds before Jack’s dick throbbed and pulsed and he let out a choked off cry as he came all over Harry’s hand.
Harry definitely felt like a minor sex god right now.
Jack pressed his face against Harry’s collarbone, panting lightly, and Harry let him, doing his best to ignore the warm wetness of his handful of cum. Like, what was he supposed to do with that? Just…let it drip on the floor? He definitely didn’t want to wipe it on his shirt.
Jack laughed softly against his collarbone. “Go and wash your hands.”
Harry fled gratefully to the sink. When he turned back again, Jack was already right behind him, folding him easily into an embrace and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.
“There,” he said. “You might be a Bad Boyfriend to everyone else, but I reckon you’re the best boyfriend to me.”
They kissed again, and Harry had never been happier.
Later that night, curled up in Jack’s bed with Jack curled around him, Harry suddenly remembered the potentially earth-shattering text he’d sent his parents, and reached down to grab his phone off the floor. He angled it away from Jack as he turned it on, so the light didn’t wake him.
He had about twelve different messages from Mum in the chat—clearly this was more exciting than the escaping chooks or Marge coming for dinner—and each one was dotted with hearts and smiley faces and rainbows. Dad’s message was as brief as they always were, but Harry’s heart swelled when he read it.
Good onya, mate. Love you.
He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.