Chapter 5
Oliver
Ihaven’t spotted Huxley all morning, but we’d texted and arranged to meet for lunch in the teachers’ lounge.
The moment the bell rings, I head across campus towards the admin building, my mind circling back to last night’s texts.
Part of me hopes Huxley read between the lines when I suggested Cazaly might not be straight, but another part is praying he didn’t.
My nerves kick in the moment I step inside the building, and I stifle the urge to swing by the staff bathroom to check my hair.
Instead, I continue down the hall and enter the teachers’ lounge, attempting to look both confident and nonchalant.
I quickly spot Huxley looking overwhelmed by Talks-too-much Trudy, who has undoubtedly decided to unleash her life story on the new arrival.
I flash a smile and say a quick hi to Jennifer as I pass by, but I don’t stop until I reach Huxley and Trudy.
“Morning, Trudy. How are you?” I greet cheerily. “I see you’ve already met our newest faculty member.”
I smile at Huxley and then give him a quick wink. Oh fuck! I did not just do that.
With my face turning beetroot red, I turn my attention back to Trudy.
“That I have, Oliver. I was just telling Huxley about Larry’s suspicious-looking rash in the most unfortunate place. I had to take him to get it checked out.”
“Oh, that sounds terrible Trudy. Did the vet get it sorted?”
Trudy frowns, jutting out her chin. “Oliver, Larry is my husband. My cat’s name is Barry. How on earth do you get those two mixed up? Oh look, there’s Belinda. I know she’s just dying to hear about my weekend.”
And with that, Trudy is gone, leaving just me and Huxley. “Sorry about that,” I say, turning my full attention to him. “I would’ve warned you if I’d had the chance. My advice is to never get caught alone with her. She’ll talk your ear off and you’ll never escape.”
Huxley giggles. “Larry and Barry. Really?”
“Yes, really. Come on, I want you to meet Jennifer and some of the others.”
I tentatively place my hand on Huxley’s shoulder and nudge him in the right direction. “Did you have a good morning?”
“Yeah, it went well. I’m a bit tired though, didn’t sleep too well last night.”
“Oh, why?”
“Dunno. Just couldn’t sleep. Had a lot on my mind.”
“Well, that’s understandable. This school is pretty full on.” I stop in front of my usual lunch table. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Huxley. He’s our new maths and science teacher. Huxley, this is Jennifer, Michelle, and Chris.”
After a round of hellos, Huxley and I join the group, taking seats opposite each other.
Huxley is quiet, and I worry that Michelle and Chris are too loud, dominating the conversation.
It’s not something I normally worry about, but Huxley’s eyes remain downcast unless he’s directly asked a question, and then he gives the shortest answer possible.
I try my best to help him feel included, but I’m glad when lunch is over and everyone starts to leave.
My plan is to walk back across campus with Huxley, but Jennifer leans over and asks if she can have a word.
Standing, I turn to Huxley. “Hey, I just need to speak to Jen for a minute, then we can walk back together.”
“It’s all good,” he says, standing. “Take your time, I’ll catch you later.”
“Meet me after class?” I ask.
“Sure,” he agrees, then leaves.
Jennifer places her hand on my elbow and leads me away from the table.
“Oliver, I just wanted to see if you were free this Saturday night. That new restaurant on Bell Street is finally open. You know, the one you said you wanted to try. I thought we could check it out together. I’ve already made a booking for 7:00. Does that suit you?”
A thousand thoughts collide in my head. I’m almost sure this is Jennifer asking me out on a date. “Ah…um…I think I might be free,” I say, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
“Come on, Oliver. It’ll be fun. Just two friends sharing a meal.”
I’m not sure if Jennifer is being honest or downplaying it to get me on a date. I take her words at face value and make a split-second decision. “Okay, sure. It’s about time we went out for some fun. Maybe we should invite some of the other teachers and make it a group?”
Jennifer rests her index finger against her lips and casts her eyes up as she considers my proposal. “I don’t think I can change the booking. They said I got the last table. But that’s a great idea for next time. Do you want to pick me up? Say 6:45?”
“Of course. Text me your address. Oh shit, there’s the warning bell. Gotta run.” I rush out of the teachers’ lounge, but there’s not enough time to check in with Huxley, and that’s disappointing.
By the time I make it back to the sports and science building, I’m almost in a panic. What if I’ve just given Jennifer the wrong impression? After meeting Huxley, it’s become increasingly clear that I’m not really interested in Jennifer romantically. Shit shit shit!
Not that Huxley has given me any indication he’d understood the subtext of my late-night messages.
There’d been no obvious flirting or anything like that between us during lunch.
I’m not even sure I know how to flirt with a man, having never done it before.
But then again, I did kiss those two guys when I was drunk, so maybe I do know how to flirt.
I stumble into my office and slam the door behind me, feeling ridiculously out of breath. Have I always been interested in men? Were all those times I thought I admired a guy, or wanted to be like them, something else entirely?
I watched The Matrix way too many times in my teenage years. Trinity was so cool and sexy, and Neo was…was….also so cool and sexy. And then there was my under twelves footy coach who I was kinda obsessed with. Fucking hell was that actually a crush?!
Well, enough is enough. Tonight is the night to face this problem head on. By watching gay porn. That should give me some answers before I go making a complete fool of myself with Huxley.
Feeling relieved that I finally have a plan, I pick up my laptop and head off to the team meeting.
After classes finish for the day, I approach Huxley’s room, hoping he’s still around so we can chat. I’m disappointed to discover he’s talking to David—who’s head of the STEM programme—so I head out to the car park instead.
When I slip into my car, I send Huxley a text.
Me: Stopped by to check in on you but you were talking to David. I hope day two went well.
I’ve just walked in the door twenty minutes later to an excited Cazaly when Huxley replies.
Huxley: It did go well. Had a great meeting with David. Your friends were nice. You and Jennifer seem close.
“Shit,” I mutter, not wanting Huxley to get the wrong idea about me and Jennifer. I quickly fix myself a snack, then plop down on the couch.
Me: They are nice. Jennifer is a good friend—she really helped me settle in last year.
Huxley: I thought you two might be dating???
I guess using the word friend didn’t set things straight.
Me: No, we’re just good friends. She’s not really my type.
I stare at the phone screen, but there are no dancing dots.
After a few minutes, I give up and stuff the last of my sandwich in my mouth.
I want to hit the gym before dinner, and I still need to walk Cazaly.
I’ve changed into my gym clothes and I’m heading out the front door when my phone finally vibrates.
Huxley: So, what’s your type then? Should I be on the lookout out for single girls searching for a tall, muscular, sporty guy?
As I slide into the driver’s seat, I sigh, uncertain how to answer. I like blonde women who are smart and sweet and kind. Now I’m wondering if I like my men the same way. I start typing, pleased when I figure out exactly how to word my answer.
Me: I like people who are kind and intelligent. What about you?
I head off to the gym, my phone vibrating two minutes into the drive. I contemplate pulling over to read the text, but manage some self-control, waiting until I pull into the car park.
Huxley: I like men who are masc but kind and caring. Tall and built is a bonus ;)
Is that me? Is Huxley describing me? I’m masculine and tall and built.
And I’m kind and caring. I think. Yes, I’m all those things.
But it could be anyone, right? It’s a little generic.
Probably not me at all. Maybe he’s describing his ex, Bradley.
Vomit! Fuck, what am I doing? Just go for it.
I tap out a text and send it without another thought.
Me: Sorry, I was driving to the gym. Do you want to have lunch together tomorrow in my office? I can take you through all the major school events coming up.
The reply is almost instant.
Huxley: The STEM faculty has a lunch meeting tomorrow. How about Thursday instead?
I blow out a puff of air, happy Huxley said yes and that I have some time to pull myself together and stop acting like a tween with a rockstar crush.
Me: Thursday it is. Enjoy your evening Huxley
I’ve been so keyed up and horny the last two days that I climb into bed naked straight after I shower. If gay porn turns out not to be my thing, I’ll switch to straight porn—either way, I’m getting myself off tonight.
I’ve read Huxley’s texts at least twenty times since getting home from the gym, and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I think I fit Huxley’s type to perfection. I’m still feeling confused and on edge, but also a little excited. It’s nice having these feelings for someone.
But I do wonder what would happen at work. Would we need to keep it a secret? Do I feel comfortable with students finding out I’m not straight? And what will my family think if I announce I’m interested in a guy?
Of course, there’s that little problem of my brother, Reece, being a certified homophobe. We barely talk anymore after all the arguments over Koa. Reece made it abundantly clear how disgusted he was by my dearest friend.