Chapter 4
Huxley
Even though I’m completely exhausted, I drop by Maddie and Lara’s place on my way home from work.
Maddie has been my best friend and emotional support person since year ten in high school, and she knows exactly how to calm my anxiety, usually by making me laugh.
She’s wise beyond her years and stood by my side through uni and failed relationships.
She helped me accept my sexuality and grow to love who I am.
I don’t know where I’d be without her. She deserves the world, and I’m happy to say that I thoroughly approve of Lara. Some might say they’re too young to settle down, but they seem perfect for each other.
They’re expecting me, so I let myself in. “Mads? Lara?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” Maddie replies.
Lara is making coffee, including one for me, and Maddie is placing some Tim Tams on a plate. They’re both femme presenting, but I know who wears the strap-on because they’re not backwards in coming forwards about that stuff. (It’s Maddie, if you’re wondering).
My dear friend has long, wavy, brown hair and rich chestnut eyes to match.
She’s tall, standing an inch over me, and is an incredibly talented digital artist. Lara complements Maddie perfectly with her petite frame, long blonde curls, and bright blue eyes.
She’s gentle and kind, and she’ll make a great social worker when she finishes her degree this year.
“Hey, how are you both?” I kiss Maddie on the cheek first then turn to Lara.
“We’re good,” Maddie replies, handing me a mug. “Let’s go sit in the living room and hear about this hot sports teacher.”
“First, though,” Lara says, as we sink down onto the comfy sofa, “how are you feeling after your first day at your new job?”
“I did pretty good. I was freaking out in the car park when I arrived. I thought I was gonna have to run to the loo from nerves.”
Maddie snorts. She knows the history of what happens when anxiety hits.
“But then,” I continue, “this guy—the sports teacher—comes up to me in the staffroom and introduces himself. He then walks me to my classroom and has lunch with me. He was just so kind. It really helped me get through the day.”
“So, what’s his name?” Maddie asks.
“Oliver. Do you wanna see what he looks like?”
Maddie comes to sit on my other side, so she can get a better look at my phone. I open Oliver’s Insta and start scrolling, stopping on a post of him in shorts and a tight tank, looking every bit a footy player.
“Oh!” Lara exclaims, moving closer to the screen. “Even I can see he’s objectively very good looking. Very masc. with all those bulging muscles and just how tall is he?”
“Tall and strong enough that he could throw me over his shoulder.” My mind wanders, imagining how Oliver could throw me around like a ragdoll in the sack.
“Oh my God,” Maddie exclaims. “Why are gay bottoms so submissive? I can’t believe you’re already imagining him ravaging you.”
I roll my eyes at her, but I can’t stop myself from smiling. “Like you weren’t imagining topping Lara the moment you set eyes on her,” I retort smugly.
“I wasn’t complaining,” Lara says. “Now, let’s do some more cyber stalking. What else can we detect from these photos?”
We spend a good ten minutes looking at Oliver’s posts, reading comments and unfairly judging someone who appears to be an ex-girlfriend, named Audrey.
Oliver doesn’t seem to go out partying; his focus is on fitness and footy, family and a few friends.
Oliver has a greyhound named Cazaly, which Maddie thinks is the name of some famous AFL footy player.
After a quick Google search, she smiles triumphantly. “I told you so.”
But the person featured most on Oliver’s Insta is his best friend Koa.
“You realise he’s, like, a really good dancer and kinda famous,” Maddie says, nudging me with her elbow. “I’ve seen articles about him. He danced here with The Australian National Ballet Company before going overseas or something.”
“Oh yes, I remember him,” Lara says. “We saw him dance the lead in Romeo and Juliet last year. He’s considered a trail blazer because there’s not a lot of indigenous ballet dancers. They say he has enough talent to be one of the best in the world one day.”
“Oliver told me he recently moved to New York. He didn’t mention he was already well known here.”
We all study a photo of Oliver and Koa, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, smiling happily at the camera.
Koa looks fairly tall, maybe six foot if Oliver is six-three.
He’s incredibly good looking too, with dark brown skin and striking, pale blue eyes.
In almost every photo they are hugging or touching in some way. Oliver must really miss him.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask, breaking the silence. “Any chance he’s bi? I swear it felt like he was flirting with me today.”
“Hux, you gotta hone that gaydar. On the positive side, you know he’s not homophobic. And he does wear a lot of tight tops. That’s a bit gay.” Maddie shrugs.
“And you said he was really gentle, like a big teddy bear. I know that doesn’t mean anything,” Lara adds, “but I’m trying to be hopeful.”
“But if he told me about Koa, then surely he would’ve said if he was queer. Right?” I look from Lara to Maddie and back again, hoping they have a counter argument.
Lara sighs, concerned eyes staring back at me. “You’d think so. But hey, Maddie and I have met women who discovered they were queer in their thirties and forties.”
“If you think he was flirting then just flirt right back.” Maddie raises her eyebrows. “His bestie is gay; he’s not gonna be offended. What have you got to lose?”
I groan. “But you know I suck at flirting, and sometimes I misread people.”
“You’re better than you think. Take one day at a time, and enjoy looking at a hot man. I think it would be good for you to have a male friend, if nothing else.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Mads.” I give her a quick hug then turn and thank Lara, too. I don’t know what I’d do without them.
Lying in bed with a new MM romance, I end up re-reading the same page three times as my mind continually drifts to thoughts of Oliver.
One minute it’s a ridiculously sappy romantic fantasy—running to each other and kissing in the rain—and the next it’s utter filth, with Oliver holding me down and fucking me senseless.
When my phone vibrates, I’m glad for the distraction, until I see it’s a message from Oliver!
I chuck my book aside and bolt upright. Louis springs up onto all fours, ready to attack. “Sorry Louis,” I say, patting him reassuringly. “Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
The message is a photo of Oliver’s dog. Cazaly looks very guilty and cute and is surrounded by crumpled up papers. Oliver has texted underneath:
Oliver: Hope it’s not too late to message. Last year I left a student’s homework on the coffee table and my dog ate it. Can you imagine a teacher having to tell a student his dog ate their homework? Mortifying!
I laugh as the little dots dance, and I wait for another message to come through.
Oliver: I checked out your Insta. Hope you don’t mind. Is that your dog?
Oliver: The black and tan one. How did the afternoon classes go?
Me: Yes, his name is Louis. I looked at your Insta too. Your dog’s name is Cazaly, right? He’s beautiful - how could you be mad at him?
Me: Afternoon classes were okay. Except I forgot to take the roll, and Pam had to call and remind me. Embarrassing!
Oliver: Can I ask why you named him Louis?
Oliver: Pam can be a bit of a grumpy school office lady. But get on her good side and she’s an absolute gem.
Me: You pronounce it like Lou-ee. It’s French. He’s named after the vampire Louis Du Ponte Du Lac from Interview with the Vampire. Have you read the books? Seen the new TV adaptation?
I stare at my phone screen, and the seconds turn into minutes. No dancing dots. OMG I gave too much information.
Flopping back down onto my pillow, I drop my phone onto my chest and groan. What a fucking idiot! Regular people don’t partake in fandoms and certainly don’t understand obsessions with fictional characters from books or TV shows.
Five minutes pass before my phone vibrates again. I lift it slowly, hesitant to look at Oliver’s response.
Oliver: That’s a cool name! I haven’t read the book or seen the show, but I just did a quick Google search. I’ll check it out. Vampires – what’s not to like!?
“Louis!” I say, patting the pup beside me.
“Oliver thinks your name is cool.” Louis opens his eyes and looks up at me.
“Yep, you heard right. I was worried he was thinking I’m a complete nerd—which to be fair, I am—but he Googled Interview with a Vampire for me.
” Louis cocks his head to one side and whimpers what honestly sounds like nice.
“Uh huh. Impressive, right?” I say, nodding.
Another buzz.
Oliver: We should introduce our dogs. They can go on a puppy date.
Me: But they’re both boys
Oliver: So what? Boys go on dates. As you know ;)
I scrunch my nose. Why does Oliver sound like he’s flirting? Well, Maddie said to go for it, so here goes.
Me: Are you suggesting my dog is gay?
Oliver: Well, he could be. We don’t want to assume anything.
Me: And what about Cazaly?
I watch the dancing dots stop and start for a couple of minutes, wondering why Oliver is having trouble answering.
Oliver: Maybe he’s gay or bi and doesn’t know it. Perhaps he just hasn’t met the right boy dog yet.
I read and re-read the text. Is Oliver trying to tell me something?
Is he talking about his dog or himself? Am I projecting and reading way too much into it?
It’s not the first time I’ve crushed on a straight boy and convinced myself he was secretly gay.
But I’m not stupid enough to pass up a chance to spend time with Oliver outside of work.
My gaydar might suck, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Me: Who am I to stand in the way of a puppy romance? We should introduce them
Oliver: Sounds like a plan. We’ll sort out the details tomorrow. Sleep well Huxley
Me: You too
I put my phone on charge, set it on the bedside table, then turn out the light.
Since I practically have a PhD in rumination, I spend the next thirty minutes debating the odds of Oliver using our dogs as a metaphor for us.
Maybe he’s gay or bi and doesn’t know it.
Perhaps he just hasn’t met the right boy dog yet.
I analyse that last text until I’m convinced Oliver is talking about himself. Am I stupid and overthinking it?
God only knows what time I finally fall asleep.