Chapter Five - 5. The Jealousy
CHAPTER FIVE
The Jealousy
“Tested on what?” Taylor asked, picking up his drink.
I looked at him. He slowly set down the cup. “Oh.”
“I mean, if you want to.” I flushed. “It was your idea.”
“No, I want to. Obviously I want to. I was the one who suggested it.” He tapped his fingers against the table, a gratifying reminder that he could still get nervous.
“So,” I began, clearing my throat. “What’s the process?”
“There’s a free sexual health clinic on campus. We don’t have to go together. I think they send the results to your student email.”
I nodded, playing with the paper bag my toastie had come in. “Well,” I began, “I was a virgin before you, so unless you have something, I won’t have anything.”
“I don’t think I have anything,” Taylor said.
“It’s good practice for me to get tested, anyway. Like, in case I caught something from a toilet seat or whatever.”
Taylor didn’t smile. I supposed it wasn’t that funny.
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth. “Taylor?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask —”
He looked away and I stopped short. “You don’t have to say.” I had overheard conversations from classmates about how immature it was to ask for someone’s body count, and the last thing I wanted to seem, especially in front of Taylor, was immature.
But, well. Wasn’t this different? Sure, I didn’t have any claim over information about Taylor’s life — he wasn’t my boyfriend. But I couldn’t help my curiosity.
“It’s not as many as you’re thinking,” he said softly.
“Hang on,” I said, “you don’t know what I’m thinking.” I thought of all the parties during high school. Him in the corner of someone’s backyard, eyes dark like onyx. A hint of a smile as he made a girl laugh. Him looking over her shoulder, catching me staring.
I used to feel so envious. Now I just felt…sad.
“I’ll tell you if you want,” Taylor said now, “but they didn’t matter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, unable to fight the irritation rising up inside me. “Sex doesn’t matter.” Tell me something I don’t know.
“No,” he said, looking frustrated. “I mean…I didn’t want them the way I wanted y — alright, here it is, since you wanted to know. Three girls, one guy, all randoms, we used protection every time.”
“Oh,” I said. “At parties?”
“Yeah. Well, the guy was at the gym over the summer.”
“At the gym?” I repeated, aghast.
“Calm down. We didn’t fuck over the bench. He gave me a hand job in the change rooms.”
“Because that’s so much better.” I looked down, hoping to hide my expression.
Taylor’s foot tapped mine. “What’s wrong?” Accusingly, he added, “you wanted to know.”
“I’m so inexperienced compared to you.” I tried to play it off like a joke, but the words came out humiliatingly raw.
“That’s a good thing.”
I gave him an alarmed look, and Taylor coughed quietly. “I know it makes me sound insane,” he said to the floor, “but I used to wonder if you’d done it with other people and…”
“And?” I prompted.
He shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m glad you haven’t done it with anyone else. It means you belong to me.”
I kicked him under the table. “I don’t belong to you.”
His lips quirked up. One blink later, and he’d returned to looking serious. “If I could turn back time and make myself a virgin, I would.”
I stared at him. “Do you regret sleeping with those people that much?”
“Maybe regret’s a strong word. It was fine enough. But it wasn’t like the real thing.”
“The real thing?” I repeated.
He looked at me.
“You shouldn’t say those things, Taylor.” I hoped to make it sound like a joke, to add something like, you’re inflating my ego here. But before I could, his expression shuttered.
He stood up, chair screeching as it was pushed backwards. “We should get back,” he said.
Taylor and I got tested on the same day, but at different times.
I expected to be stared at as I stepped into the waiting room, which was filled with blue plastic chairs and smelled like cleaning chemicals, but no one cared.
The nurse was polite but matter of fact as she asked me what gender my sexual partners were, and after I stuttered out male, whether I bottomed during anal sex.
The whole thing went quicker than expected. The worst part, actually, was the blood test, but all I had to do was avert my eyes from the needle in my arm.
I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought of STIs because the middle of semester approached, and with it came endless assignments and tests, the libraries filled up with students on their second, third, and forth espressos of the day.
I spent all of Saturday in the humanities library, the biggest library on campus, but after packing up my things to use the restroom, I returned to find my desk and seat had been taken. Since I was hungry anyway, I returned to the dorm, expecting to find Taylor on the couch, playing FIFA.
I’d rarely seen Taylor studying — actually studying — which, of course, pissed me off to no end when we were in high school. It would be just what I expected, him to be relaxing while every other student on campus was stressing the hell out.
To my surprise, though, he wasn’t on the couch. He was in, though — the low rumble of his voice drifted from behind his bedroom door.
I paused. Maybe he was on a call with someone, though I’d never heard him do that before. Now that I thought about it, I’d never witnessed him calling his family. Maybe he only did it when I was out, and he hadn’t expected me to return so soon.
I refilled my water bottle in the sink, thinking I’d have a shower and then maybe cook something with Taylor, and that’s when I heard a delighted, unrestrained laugh. I froze.
Taylor had a boy with him. In there. In his room.
He had never invited me into his room.
The next thing I knew, I was battering my fist against his door. Taylor took his sweet time answering. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and —
I looked down. Standing in the doorway, wearing a wool jumper that was practically swallowing him, was a guy with big hazel eyes, eyelashes as long as a horse’s, and round cheeks.
He was cute. Not cute as in good-looking, but actually cute, like a baby bird or a lost kitten. Cute in the way where he’d look just right getting scooped up by Taylor.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked.
“Archie.” Taylor appeared next to him. His cheeks weren’t red, his skin not shiny. He had clothes on. My shoulders relaxed.
Then I stiffened again because Taylor was admonishing me like he was my mother. And — okay, maybe I had been rude. The stranger looked taken aback at my words, but managed a bright smile.
“Hi,” he said, the single word like a musical note, and I decided that in addition to his appearance, I also hated his voice. “I’m Emery.” He stuck his hand out.
I took it, more out of instinct after attending networking events all semester, rather than because I actually wanted to. His hand was tiny.
“I think we’ve met before,” Emery continued, still smiling.
I had a vague memory of him in the living room as we played Never Have I Ever at the start of the semester.
“Right,” I said. “What are you doing in here?”
“Studying,” he answered cheerfully, moving backwards to reveal the rest of the room. A silver MacBook that definitely didn’t belong to Taylor sat on the bed.
“We’re both taking Consti,” Taylor explained, still in the doorway. His things were on his desk, so they probably hadn’t been curled up on the bed together, making flash cards.
“Huh?”
“Constitutional law,” Emery said from the bed. “You wanna study with us?”
“I was actually just about to eat,” I said.
Emery checked the time on his phone. “Crap, I didn’t realise it was so late. Let’s order something.” He whipped out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. “There’s that place that does the salad you like,” he said to Taylor.
I stepped backwards. “I’m gonna cook something.”
“It’s my shout,” Emery said, coming up to the doorway, and pushing his phone in front of my face.
My eyes focused on the menu and I balked at the price tag on the roast chicken caesar salad.
Emery smiled at me and I realised where I recognised his name from: he was the person who’d given Taylor the video game console.
I liked playing the console. A lot. But knowing Emery was the one who’d donated it didn’t make me like him any better.
“We’ll pay,” Taylor assured him. “The salad’s better than whatever’s in the fridge,” he said to me.
“You don’t know what’s in the fridge,” I said.
“There’s two eggs and a wilted broccoli.”
“Fine,” I said. “Salad seems…fine.”
Emery put in the order, and protested when we insisted on transferring him the money. I tried to figure out what was his angle here. What had Taylor said? That he was rich and naive or something?
“It’ll take half an hour to arrive so we might as well get some more studying in,” Emery said, shooting me another big smile.
“My room’s too small. Let’s go to the living room,” said Taylor.
We couldn’t all fit on the couch, so Taylor and Emery took it while I sat opposite them, cross legged on the rug, my laptop on the coffee table. With the pair of them looming over me, I felt like a kid being supervised by my parents, and that only worsened my mood.
At least studying meant no talking. We all got stuck into our work and I definitely focused on my assignments and didn’t spend the entire time watching Taylor out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch him looking at Emery with longing.
Which was ridiculous. Taylor would never look at someone with longing, ever.
“The food’s a kilometre away,” Emery said, looking at his phone. Taylor leaned in close to see the screen.
I frowned. Emery, misinterpreting my expression, said, “it’s really good, Archie. Taylor loves it.”
“Do you order it a lot?” I asked.
“We go there actually! The place is right near the law building, so we eat there after class.”
“Just the two of you?” I asked.
He nodded quickly. “Mm-hmm.”
I didn’t reply. For a second, Emery looked lost, then said, “you’re studying commerce, right?”
“Yep.”
There was a long silence. “Food’s almost here! I’ll get it from the lobby.” Emery stood up, grabbed Taylor’s keys, then hurried out.
“You’re being rude,” Taylor said once he was gone.
I laughed. “Are you seriously lecturing me on being rude?”
“I’m not being rude right now.”
“No, you’re not. Because he’s your best friend.”
“Yeah, he probably is.” Something in my reaction made Taylor’s gaze harden. “What, did you think it was you? You don’t even like me.”
“You don’t even like me!” I retorted. My gaze fell on my laptop. There was dust between the keys. I needed to clean it.
Taylor inhaled heavily. “Listen, I —”
The door swung open and Emery stepped in holding a big paper bag.
“Thank you,” I said, when he handed me my salad, which came in a cardboard bowl. “This looks really good.”
It was the shittiest, low-effort attempt at being polite, but he looked pleased. “It is! I hope you like it.”
I took a bite of the grilled chicken, which was well seasoned and juicy. My mood lifted a bit. “You’re the one who gave Taylor the gaming console, right? That was super generous of you. Thank you.”
“It was just an old one I had lying around,” Emery replied, waving a hand, but he was blushing. “What games have you been playing?”
“We just have FIFA.”
“I can give you more — ”
“That’s alright,” Taylor said, bumping his shoulder against Emery’s, and I chewed my food slowly and tried to be mindful or whatever.
Emery wasn’t a monster. Taylor wasn’t a monster. I just didn’t like seeing them touch.
Over dinner, we talked about assignments and Taylor’s upcoming soccer game on Sunday.
It would be the Halverton team’s first match of the season.
Emery promised he’d watch, sounding like Taylor’s number one fan.
Privately, I decided I’d watch the game too, but I didn’t feel the need to go around and make a big deal of it.
After dinner, we went back to studying. Taylor and Emery spoke to each other about some high court rulings, and I put in my earphones to drown out their voices. There was a heaviness in my chest that I couldn’t figure out. Rationally, there was no reason to feel annoyed and…even sad.
An hour later, Emery closed his laptop and packed his things.
I took one earphone out. “Are you going?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for having me over. It was nice to meet you, Archie.”
I forced a smile and waved goodbye. Taylor walked him out. Once the door had closed behind him, Taylor slowly turned to me.
“What?”
“Emery’s nice,” Taylor said, still by the front door.
“Yes. He is.” I closed my laptop, deciding I was done with uni work. I couldn’t focus.
“No,” Taylor said, sounding frustrated. “I mean, he’s actually nice —”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s so much nicer than me, he’s your best friend, I hope you’ll be happy together.”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Archie.”