CHAPTER 22 #3
But saying yes would retroactively justify what Miles had done. There was being unbothered, but there was also forgiving. And Jeremy was never going to do that.
He looked around the room, stalling for time, to see if there was one of those fire alarms he could pull, like in the movies.
Then, reluctantly, he made eye contact with Miles, realising there was only one way out of this, and it was to give in to him.
After everything he had tried to plan and strategise for this moment, he’d been outmanoeuvred.
Here he was with his beautiful boyfriend, with his friends, with a life he was learning to appreciate and love, and Miles was dragging him right back to being the humiliated, heartbroken mess he’d started as.
He was about to open his mouth and at least attempt some dignity in his response when —
‘Fuck you, mate. Fuck this!’
It was Sam, standing bolt upright next to Jeremy, shifting so he almost stood in front of Jeremy, hand on his shoulder like a bodyguard, his face incredulous with outrage. ‘What the fuck are you even talking about?’ he asked – rhetorically, but Miles apparently decided to answer.
‘I’m sure it must be confusing to the layman,’ Miles said in deep condescension, ‘but I was talking to Jeremy, not you.’
‘ As I said , fuck you. You’re a cruel, pretentious piece of shit,’ Sam said, clearly flustered by the effort of being this confrontational, this rude in public. But his blood was up, his free hand curled into a fist. A part of Jeremy, underneath the surge of mortification, was proud of him.
Miles raised an eyebrow at one of his friends standing near the podium. While there were audible titters and comments from the crowd, Jeremy also heard some mutters of disapproval, especially from faculty.
‘Gosh, language, Samuel,’ Miles admonished.
‘I read your book and it goddamn sucks,’ Sam blustered. ‘And I think you’re cruel.’ He wasn’t yelling any more, speaking more conversationally, and Jeremy found himself grabbing Sam’s arm, not sure if he was trying to calm him or encourage him.
‘Jeremy is ten times the writer you are,’ Sam continued, ‘and a hundred times the person. He is talented, hard-working, sweet and funny, and doesn’t rely on fucking over the people who love him just to get ahead.
You should be on your knees begging his forgiveness instead of going in for round two of being a huge … suckhole,’ Sam said.
Miles smirked. ‘Jeremy writes paparazzi articles about bad reality TV shows, Samuel. I’m not sure I’d call him either talented or successful.’
‘I think he’s a particularly gifted writer actually,’ a posh voice said quietly.
Jeremy whirled around and saw that Brian Northern Trellis was furrowing his brow and looking at Miles with obvious dislike.
‘He wrote one of the most insightful profiles of me I’ve ever enjoyed in my long career.
In my opinion, Jeremy is a testament to this workshop. ’
Miles looked like he’d been slapped with a fish as he listened to his hero defending Jeremy.
His eyes narrowed and his hands clawed around the lectern.
‘Jeremy is a two-bit failure who writes clickbait about sassy cats, and only managed to graduate this workshop because I was there to sound out the big words for him.’ He was almost snarling.
Jeremy managed to clock the fact that Miles had been reading his articles, clearly keeping tabs on him. That was interesting.
‘Jeremy is the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,’ came another voice from the crowd, and Jeremy had to do a triple take. Standing on his own towards the edge of the room, tall and incredibly beautiful in a lovely business suit, a huge neon-blue Slurpee inexplicably in his hand, was Geoffrey.
‘All right, people, let’s keep things civil,’ intoned the dean, ascending the stage and pulling the microphone from Miles. ‘A little decorum from everyone, please. This is a speech, not a town hall!’
Civil? All Jeremy’s rage flooded back into him from the soles of his feet up.
‘Oh, fuck that !’ he found himself shouting, all that rage pouring out his mouth in one long-postponed torrent.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about how much I hate this workshop – it’s a pyramid scheme and I should never have come back here.
But I knew I’d be considered a huge failure if I didn’t turn up, and it’s only just occurring to me how fucked that is, and how this whole toxic competition that we’re forced into is deeply …
fucked. I am done. And fuck you, Miles.’
‘Some decorum, please!’ the dean repeated, looking extremely annoyed now.
Miles was getting his poise back, his smile indulgent. He was about to say something when Sam interrupted.
‘Nah,’ said Sam, now practically vibrating on the balls of his feet. ‘Jeremy doesn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit – we’re leaving. Come on, Jeremy.’
‘Fuck yeah,’ came another familiar voice, and then the sound of glass smashing. Jeremy turned and saw Liz standing over the shattered remains of a wine glass, holding another above her head; with a wicked look of glee, she smashed that one too.
Sam began pushing through the crowd towards the doors, dragging Jeremy along with him.
He was still yelling, but it was incoherent now and it sounded like Anna was also smashing glasses.
Jeremy caught a glimpse of Geoffrey pushing a full cheese platter off a table.
The dean was exhorting for calm over the microphone, and he could hear Miles yelling something too.
The crowd was whipped into absolute mayhem, many surging away from breaking glass, many also moving towards the doors.
Sam, looking wild, pushed over a potted plant, which broke and sent dirt cascading across the floor.
‘Oh, shit,’ he said, looking at Jeremy in surprise, then renewing his push for the exit.
Jeremy stopped and turned. He felt Sam trying to move him that final step out the door into the dark wilderness of the night.
Liz and Anna were retreating from the chaos they’d caused, looking gleeful.
Miles was still standing on the podium above the seething audience.
This was Jeremy’s final chance to sort out how he felt about the situation before he was removed from it forever.
Was this his moment to direct a withering insult at Miles that would devastate him?
Should he attempt a graceful exit, say something wise and smart that would leave everyone regretting their callousness?
God, should he apologise? He didn’t know!
And then, Jeremy started laughing.
He couldn’t stop, slapping his leg, guffawing like a long-exhaled breath, like a foghorn.
How hilarious this was, how insane, how ridiculous – and how free he was from the shackles of caring about what these people thought of him, finally, after so many years.
Was this the way he’d wanted this night to go?
Was this the method he’d have chosen to free himself from his angst and trauma?
No – but now he was in it, Jeremy understood this was the only way it should have happened: his friends causing a scene on his behalf, all the people in his life rallying to support him, helping him get here, and, most of all, a boyfriend who not only didn’t try to control, manipulate and exploit him, but who overcame his hatred of conflict and confrontation to defend him in public.
Jeremy even went so far as to point to Miles and laugh at him, which made Miles flinch, like a wicked witch presented with a bucket of water. Miles, Jeremy realised, was the joke now – at least to him and his friends.
He stopped at the door, having one last look at this world he was finally ready to leave behind, and he turned to Sam, who was still holding him protectively, face still set in wildness, in anger.
His normally placid and beautiful green eyes were steely with rage, his forehead crumpled in consternation, but as Jeremy continued laughing, genuinely laughing with joy, Sam’s anger smoothed away and that huge generous smile, like the moon eclipsing the sun first seen all that time ago after Body Fury, curved his mouth and crinkled his eyes.
Sam began to chuckle too, and then they were kissing.
Jeremy knew they were being watched – he knew there were faculty staff calling security on one of the campus phones.
But he took a moment to laugh and kiss this man, knowing that if he got to laugh like this and kiss Sam forever, then maybe his life would be every bit as perfect as the spite plan was supposed to make it.
‘Thank you,’ Jeremy whispered in Sam’s ear. ‘I love you.’