Chapter Six
Chapter Six
George
I haven’t kissed a man in a very long time. Not since high school. His name was Travis Clark, and we were on the football team together. We were best friends from day one. We went together like potato chips and mayonnaise – seriously, you have to try it! I was quarterback and Travis was tight end. The fact that we were always whipping each other with our towels in the locker room was just what boys did. Then, one night we won a big match and Travis and I went to a party. We spent the whole night talking about girls, but didn’t leave each other’s side.
By 2 a.m., we were nestled together on a sofa, too drunk to move. By 3 a.m., we were the last people there. For most of that time, our legs were touching. I can’t remember which of us first admitted that we had a boner. It was all a big joke at first. Travis claimed he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if he didn’t jack off. Then he pulled down his pants and there it was. Hottest moment of my life up to that point. We were only planning to do it side by side, but we ended up making out then giving each other a helping hand. I couldn’t think about anything else for days afterwards. Travis and I never spoke about it. I wasn’t ashamed, but it felt easier to leave it in the past and keep doing what I’d been doing with girls. Which brings me to last night.
I’m not talking about Lucas. Listen, this whole reacting to the situation thing isn’t foolproof. Kissing Lucas felt like the right thing to do in the moment, and it’s possible that it wasn’t, but I’m not going to sweat it. Lucas and I haven’t been in contact since, but he’s the kind of guy who needs time to cool down. I’m sure it will be fine once I see him.
After Lucas fled, I returned to the dance floor. Pretty soon, I was approached by Spiderman. The hot one. He knew who I was, but he didn’t go on about it. Everything else that needed to be said, we said with our eyes. Maybe it was being in a gay club. Maybe I was looking for a loophole after promising myself no more girls until after exams. Or maybe I was just horny. Either way, Hot Spiderman came home with me. In fact, he’s still here now.
He’s fast asleep, on his side facing the wall, his ribcage rising and falling. I’m curled up behind him, fighting for my life. These single beds are small enough when it’s just me. Fair to say I haven’t had the best night’s sleep. I’m on the verge of dozing off when Hot Spiderman stirs and turns to look at me through hazy eyes. He mumbles as if he’s dreaming, then reaches down and grabs my dick. He’s a big fan of it. He wouldn’t stop complimenting it last night. It’s not that big, but it’s perfect, according to him. Yesterday he said he was tired and wanted to focus on me, which I wasn’t going to complain about. But this morning, I want to return the favour. Something I never got to do with Travis. Something I’ve always wanted to try.
Actually, I did once try sucking my own dick when I was a teenager, but I was too busy to really appreciate it, if you know what I mean. As I shimmy down and Hot Spiderman realises what I’m doing, he grins in delight and lies back.
Why did I wait so long to try this?
No one told me how hot it is when you feel them getting harder in your mouth. When they mutter and moan in a voice they’ve never used before. After a while, Hot Spiderman flips round and returns the favour. I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m not in a dorm room in Cambridge. I’m in the club last night with Lucas.
I didn’t really process what was happening at the time – I was too drunk, then it all fell apart so quickly. But looking back, that was kind of hot. We really went for it. Sure, it wasn’t a typical kiss, but it was still a kiss. It still felt good. And now I’m thinking there was only one reason I came home with Hot Spiderman last night, and it’s because I wanted to finish what I started with Lucas. Lucas got me horny, believe it or not. I recall him drifting his hand over my abs, and now I’m picturing him going further, sliding a hand up my shorts and closing his lips around what he finds.
I tense, then let out a gasp and jet all over my chest. I open my eyes and see Hot Spiderman smiling at me. I’d almost forgotten about him.
Crazy the places your mind will go when you’re turned on. Did I really just imagine me and Lucas doing that? I must still be drunk. Feeling guilty, I help Hot Spiderman finish, then get out of bed and pull on some clothes. As he gets the message, his face falls.
‘It’s Sunday,’ he says. ‘Come back to bed.’
‘I need to do my laundry.’
‘What about next week? We can go for a drink, see the new Marvel?’
He’s trying to sound casual, but failing. I hate to disappoint him, but I don’t usually double dip. People are never as impressed by me the second time.
‘I’ve seen it,’ I claim.
‘What?’ says Hot Spiderman. ‘But it’s not out yet.’
Damn. Think fast, George, think fast.
‘I went to a special screening.’
‘Whoa, how come?’
‘Er .?.?. I’m not allowed to say.’
‘Oh my god, do you have connections at Disney?’
How have I made myself more attractive to him? This is what happens when you can’t bear to say no. I’ve never been very good at lying. All I can think to do is mime zipping up my lips.
‘Wow,’ says Hot Spiderman. ‘We need to go for that drink.’
‘I’ll have to check my schedule. Give me your number and I’ll let you know.’
I stay in bed for the rest of the day, wondering how I’m going to explain my way out of that one. What’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t I tell him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again? How have I got into this habit of only seeing people once?
Last night was fun. There’s no reason to think Hot Spiderman wouldn’t be into it a second time around. In fact, he’s already texted me saying he’s looking forward to it, but if I reply, I’ll feel obliged to keep the conversation going. How long do I have until it’s ghosting?
I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve done that to a couple of girls in the past, but only because I couldn’t figure out how to let them down without upsetting them. It once took me three months to draft a text to a girl explaining why I found it stressful when she trauma-dumped on our first date. By the time I finally sent it, she’d blocked me.
The next morning I’m up bright and early, ready to resume training. After the past week, I’m relieved at the thought of getting back into a familiar routine. When I arrive at the train station, the first person I see is Lucas.
‘Hey!’ I say. ‘How fun was Saturday?’
Lucas looks aghast and drops his voice to a mumble. ‘Don’t talk about that when we’re with the team.’
I look around. Most of the guys aren’t here yet, and Dakani is busy on his phone, so I guess that means I’m OK to proceed.
‘You made some really good progress. Plus you’re a great kisser.’
Lucas looks even more mortified.
‘Shut up, George!’
‘I’m just saying. But hey, if you need any more practice.’
‘You think I need practice?!’
‘No! I just—’
‘George, can we drop it, please?’
‘In a minute. Lucas, I watched Amir as you left. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t upset. He was curious. I think the guy likes you.’
Lucas shakes his head. ‘I blew my chance. I should have just gone and said hi.’
‘You’ll see him at the coffee shop! You’ll have tons of chances.’
‘I’ll never be brave enough to approach him when I’m sober.’
‘You will, Lucas. I’ll make sure.’
‘OK, great, now shhhhhh.’
I turn as I hear someone approaching. It’s Fran Macdonald. What’s she doing here? Everyone keeps going on about her roast as if she ran me over with a car, but she was only having a laugh.
‘Have the girls switched to morning training?’ I ask.
Fran smiles. ‘The other girls haven’t.’
‘Huh. So you’re training on your own?’
‘Nope.’
It’s too early for guessing games. Then it hits me. ‘You’re joining the men’s squad?!’
Fran shrugs. ‘I need a new challenge. I’m gonna give it a shot.’
‘Did you know about this, Lucas?’
‘Of course I did,’ he says quickly. ‘I’m all for it. Bring on the competition.’
If I know Lucas – which I’m starting to think I do, a little bit – he’s freaking out internally but determined not to show it.
Still, those two are friends, and I’m sure Fran got his blessing. Lucas links arms with Fran and chats happily with her for the whole train ride to Ely. I sit with Johannes and we try to figure out what this means for the line-up. Is Fran going to be paired with me in the first boat, meaning Lucas has been dropped? Or will she be started in the second boat, and me demoted to join her?
When we arrive in Ely, Deb briskly announces that Fran will be coxing the second boat, with Tristan as stroke. Tristan looks happy – he’s always wanted to be tried out in the top seat – but a trial is all it is. Lucas and I are safe, for now at least.
As we carry the boats down to the water, I’m dying to ask Lucas how he really feels about the threat of Fran, but he’s avoiding my gaze and it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk. It feels like we’ve slipped back into our old dynamic. Hard to believe that two nights ago, we were making out dressed as superheroes.
We get into our seats and push out onto the water. The Great Ouse is a wide stretch of river in the middle of the Cambridgeshire fens, a flat expanse of former marshland on England’s east coast. In winter, arctic winds blow all the way from Siberia. On days like today, when the sun is shining, the scene is majestic. It feels good to be back doing what I do best. The other boat is behind us on the river, so I have no idea how they’re faring. Lucas is the one who has a clear view. He looks pretty stressed, but if I try to reassure him, he’ll snap at me.
So much tension in such a little guy. I wonder what he’d say if I offered him a massage.
‘Right,’ Deb shouts on her megaphone as she cycles along the towpath. ‘Sprints.’
I can hear Ed and Ted muttering in disgust from here. Making us race on the first day back in training is an ice-cold move, but I love it when Deb keeps us on our toes. The other crew pulls up alongside us. Tristan is in my periphery, but I’m determined not to glance over and give him the satisfaction of thinking that I care. Which I don’t. Deb blows her whistle. As Lucas cranks up the stroke rate and I pull on my oar, I have a serious case of déjà vu. Only we aren’t out there on the Thames, being watched by millions of people. And we’re not racing Oxford. It’s Tristan and Fran, who’ve been paired together for all of ten minutes. Compared to them, Lucas and I know each other’s game perfectly. He’s guiding me like magic. And with a week’s rest in my legs, my rowing is flawless.
This is why I was made stroke. This is what Deb wants to see from me. I glance over at the other boat. Tristan is trying desperately to keep pace, but he’s not quite managing. As we cross the finish line, narrowly in the lead, I look at Lucas and grin. For the first time that I can remember, Lucas smiles back.
‘Anyone sitting here, old chap?’ asks Tristan.
‘No,’ I say, before I know what’s happening. Tristan slides in beside me. I was determined to sit with Lucas on the train home, but he already made a beeline for Fran.
‘That was close,’ Tristan says.
‘Yeah, you did great!’
‘We almost won. First time rowing with Fran. You’ve had months of practice with Lucas.’
These facts are indisputable.
‘I guess it’s official,’ says Tristan. ‘I’m your competition.’
‘Bring it on. It will push me to be my best.’
‘Well, you’d better get on with it, ’cos it looks like you’ve lost Deb.’
I frown at him. What’s he talking about?
‘Don’t you think it says a lot, the crews she chose today?’ asks Tristan.
‘No,’ I say, suddenly uncertain. ‘I mean if she’d dropped me or Lucas from the first boat, that would have said something.’
Tristan looks at me slyly.
‘You know that’s not the only option. Look who else was in your boat today. Half of them aren’t even around next year.’
‘What are you saying?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be so sure which was the first boat out there,’ says Tristan. ‘Maybe Deb dropped you both.’
I’m not going to panic. Tristan is trying to fuck with me, because that’s what he does. No one knows what Deb is thinking. Until she tells us otherwise, I’m going to assume that I haven’t been dropped.
I definitely won’t say anything to my parents, who I’ve finally managed to pin down to a Zoom call this afternoon. The country club is closed on Mondays, and it’s the only time I have any chance of getting their attention. Once I get back to my room after lunch, I pull on a shirt my parents gave me for my birthday and dial in. But as the call connects, it’s not my parents on the other end.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Hey, Chuck!’
‘Surprise,’ my older brother Chuck says blankly.
There’s green all around him and it looks like he’s floating. Then I realise he’s sitting on a lawn mower. Chuck also works at the country club as a groundskeeper.
‘Mom and dad sent me the link, but I’ve only got five minutes. There’s a golf tournament tomorrow, and Pete is not happy with the fairways.’
I’m secretly pleased to hear that Chuck won’t be taking up too much of my precious time with Mom and Dad. He always claimed he’d never end up working at the country club like them, until one summer his holiday job became permanent. No one’s ever said a word about the change of plan.
‘Hey,’ says Chuck, ‘saw you in the Boat Race.’
I feel my whole body tense. ‘Thanks for watching!’
‘What happened?’ asks Chuck.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘You think I won’t get it?’
‘No, it’s just—’
‘Relax, George. I saw the headlines.’
My heart sinks. ‘You did? You mean—’
‘That article? Yeah. Jeana Hampton sent it to Mom.’
Damn. I’d hoped it hadn’t crossed the Atlantic, but it’s OK. It’s not a big deal.
‘How’s it going with you?’ I ask Chuck.
‘Awesome.’ He frowns at his screen and brushes at his bald patch. ‘I just got a raise.’
‘Very nice. How’s Natalie?’
Chuck tenses. If Mom’s to be believed, Chuck and Natalie are never more than a few days from their latest argument.
‘She’s great,’ says Chuck. ‘Everything’s great.’
Just then, another rectangle is added to the call.
‘Mom? Dad?’
‘Just a minute, boys,’ says my mom. ‘We’re at a very risky stage.’
‘Of what?’
‘The pavlova.’
It takes several more seconds of my mom dashing in and out of frame before she’s seated in front of the camera. My mom was a stunner when she was my age and I still think she’s beautiful, but she’s always claiming she’s lost her looks. She’s got the same curly brown hair, round face and plump cheeks as Chuck, and they both look so jolly when they smile. Which isn’t very often.
‘There, Ron, I think that’s stable.’
My mom catches her breath. She’s stressed out of her mind.
‘I thought today was your day off,’ I say sympathetically.
‘It is.’ My mom wipes her brow. ‘There’s a wedding tomorrow.’
‘Who gets married on a Tuesday?’
‘Lots of people these days. Better rates.’
‘Which means they’re worse for us!’ says my dad, entering the frame. ‘Brenda, you might want to watch that coulis.’
My mom dips out and my dad takes over. He’s the one I take after, just like he takes after his ancestors who originally came over from Norway. We’re the exact same height, and though his stomach has filled out, he’s still got a full head of hair.
‘Hey, Dad,’ I say. ‘Did you watch the race?’
‘Now that was a whole operation,’ says my dad. ‘What channel was it on, BBC World? We don’t get that on our TV. We had to get Maureen Carlsberg’s boy to come and set it up. It took him forever. I think he was stoned.’
‘Well, I hope it was worth it.’
‘Ron,’ says my mom. ‘It’s looking unsteady.’
My dad leaps out of his seat. My mom tags back in.
‘Six tiers,’ she says. ‘It’s like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.’
‘Can we see?’ I ask.
‘I’ll send you a photo when it’s done.’
She’ll never remember.
‘Mom, Chuck said you read that article about me.’
‘What? Oh, that. Yes, Jeana Hampton sent it to me, but I didn’t really get what it was saying.’
Plenty of times I’ve wished my parents would show more of an interest in my life in Cambridge. Right now, it’s a relief.
‘Don’t worry about it. But I do have to decide—’
‘What’s the weather like there?’
‘It’s a bit grey today.’
‘Ron,’ says my mom, ‘try removing those strawberries.’
I don’t know why, but I’m having the strangest reaction. I’m having to try really hard not to cry. It’s not because I’m sad. I’m always happy to see my family. I guess it’s that they’re so far away and don’t really have time for me.
‘Mom, I have to decide about next year.’
‘Plenty of jobs going here.’
‘He’s too good for us now,’ says Chuck. ‘He’s at Cambridge.’
I clear my throat. ‘I want to stay on and do a master’s.’
Chuck scowls. ‘Why?’
Surely Chuck’s five minutes are up by now?
‘Because I like it here. And I want to row in next year’s Boat Race. If I do, will you guys come this time?’
My dad has rejoined the call. My mom gives him a look.
‘We can’t just leave the restaurant. We’d have to take at least four days off.’
‘At least,’ says my dad.
‘You guys need a vacation.’
‘Then we’d be losing money and spending it.’
‘Flights aren’t that bad if you book in advance.’
My mom gives me a smile. ‘We’ll definitely look into it.’
I’m getting that feeling again. Which is ridiculous, because my mom just said she’d look into it. I’m sure she means it. I’m sure she’s not just saying it to get me off the phone.
‘Thanks, Mom. That would be amazing.’
‘Ron!’ says my mom, looking off screen in horror. ‘It’s gonna fall!’
I always feel weird after speaking to my parents. I think I just miss them so much. It’s a long way from Cambridge to Wisconsin, and I get that it’s another world to them. That’s why I wish they’d visit. The last time I went home, they were so busy and distracted that I couldn’t really deal with it, and I haven’t been back in a while. But now we have a plan. They’re going to be at next year’s Boat Race. Almost certainly. Maybe. Hopefully. It’s not like I’m in a position to make firm plans yet. First, I need to pass these exams.
I message Jemima to let her know I’m sticking to my original plan. She replies with a thumbs-up emoji. Love that emoji! Next, I text Lucas and tell him it’s about time we got started on my dissertation. He texts back telling me not to worry about it. I’m trying to think of a polite way to tell him that we probably do need to start worrying about it, when he sends another message telling me to come to his room at 6 p.m.
That can only mean one thing – an all-nighter!
I’ve never been able to motivate myself to stay up all night working, but I’ve always liked the idea of starring in my own studying montage like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde . I go to Sainsbury’s and load up on Red Bull and Haribo – that should keep us going until dawn. At the appointed hour, I head over to St John’s. As Lucas opens his door, I hold up the Red Bulls in one hand and the Haribo in the other, pulling the kind of winsome expression I imagine Reese Witherspoon doing.
Lucas chuckles. ‘Tell me you’ve never pulled an all-nighter without telling me you’ve never pulled an all-nighter.’
The smile is wiped from my face. Lucas softens.
‘Seriously, George, people have died from drinking that much Red Bull.’
Lucas allows me to follow him inside. Wow, his room is huge. After your first year, rooms are assigned by ballot, with those who get the best exam results being awarded first choice. Which means that Lucas got the best room in college. It’s not a typical set of rooms, but one vast one which looks out onto a cluster of weeping willows bordering the River Cam. There’s a sturdy wooden desk in the window, a sofa, an armchair, and—
‘A double bed?!’
Lucas glances over at it bashfully. ‘I believe it’s king-sized.’
‘Lucas, you are living the dream.’
‘Yes, George. Alone in my king-sized bed every night.’
He sits down on the sofa and opens his laptop. On the screen is a photo gallery that shows some young people at a party in London. I recognise one of them.
‘Is that Amir?’
Lucas sighs dreamily. ‘He was at the opening of the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. Joe Alwyn was there. FKA Twigs. Imagine if I got to be his date.’
‘Yes, Lucas! Let’s visualise it!’
Lucas laughs. ‘It’s a bit late for that. But we have both been invited to this garden party at St John’s. The whole college has. It’s meant to be like, the last hurrah before exams.’
‘That’s perfect!’
Lucas looks at me in disbelief. ‘I’m not approaching Amir at a public event.’
‘Then do it in the coffee shop.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mention the garden party. Find out if he’s going or not. Break the ice.’
‘And then what?’
I smile at Lucas. ‘Part of your problem is you’re always thinking two steps ahead. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘Are you sure we shouldn’t conduct a full structural assessment of the bridge to prepare for the eventuality that we come to it?’
‘Yes, Lucas, I’m sure. Apart from anything else, tonight is about me.’
Lucas looks relieved to change the subject. He pulls up a document on his laptop.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘Your dissertation.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I wrote it this afternoon.’
I laugh, before realizing he’s serious. ‘What?! How? That’s ten thousand words.’
‘This was the easy part.’
‘What’s the hard part?’
‘We can’t hand it in like this. It has to sound like you.’
‘You mean, make it sound American?’
‘Well, not just that. Have a seat.’
I sit down next to Lucas on the sofa. Judging by the way he shuffles over, I’m guessing he was expecting me to sit on the chair opposite, but if we’re going to be working on my dissertation together, isn’t this better? It’s only as I sit down that I’m reminded of how big I am. And how I kind of need a whole one of these sofas to myself. This is cosy.
‘OK,’ says Lucas, scanning the document, ‘what words would you use to explain that comparative advantage depends on an assumption of constant returns?’
‘Er .?.?. what?’
‘Like how Ireland has comparative advantage over most countries in dairy production. But you can’t just assume that will go on forever.’
‘Of course you can’t. You don’t get unlimited refills from a cow.’
‘Perfect!’
I assume he’s being sarcastic, but Lucas types what I just said into the dissertation. He explains his rationale: a low-grade essay which sounds like my voice is far preferable to a perfect essay which risks being caught for plagiarism. As we work through the dissertation, concepts which have never meant anything to me suddenly become crystal clear. Opportunity cost? That’s the price of FOMO. Conjoint analysis? That’s Twitter polls for geeks. This is cheating as an art form. A seamless production line between Lucas’s mode of understanding and mine. It’s more than any of my professors have managed over the last three years. No wonder Lucas came top of the year. There’s nothing this boy doesn’t know, but he’s not showy about it. When I confuse the scarcity principle with the exception that proves the rule, Lucas doesn’t laugh or make me feel bad. He gently walks me through the difference until he’s sure I understand.
Who is this Lucas?
‘You’re so good at explaining!’ I exclaim after his latest demonstration.
Lucas shrugs it off. ‘I always used to help my sister with her homework.’
‘That’s so nice of you.’
‘That’s just what a big brother does.’
Images from my childhood flash through my mind. Chuck pummelling me for borrowing his dinosaur egg. Convincing me that milkshake tastes nicer if you drink it through your nose with a straw. ‘Accidentally’ slipping my SAT results into the menu of someone I was serving at the restaurant.
‘Was that your brother in the photo?’
Apparently Lucas is psychic.
‘What photo?’
‘In your room.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Charles. We call him Chuck.’
‘You guys get on?’
‘Sure. I don’t see my family that often.’
Lucas looks curious, but I’m not in the mood for this conversation.
‘What’s next on the dissertation?’ I ask.
Lucas smiles at me. ‘We’re done.’
I look at him in surprise. ‘What about the maths part?’
‘I can do that myself. You can go.’
Suddenly we’re not engaged in a secret assignment. We’re just two guys sitting way too close to each other on a sofa. Two guys who kissed the other night. And let’s not forget the part where I thought about him during sex. I really don’t know what’s got into me lately. I’m going to leave before I start overthinking it.
As I stand up, I spot Lucas’s rowing kit. ‘Hey, Tristan said the funniest thing to me today. He thinks Deb dropped us.’
Lucas shrugs. ‘I doubt she’s made any decisions.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Then what are you worried about?’
‘I’m not worried. Tristan deserves to have his shot.’
Lucas looks at me in disgust. ‘Are you insane? Fuck Tristan.’
‘But—’
‘I’m serious, George. You are not in a good position right now. Focus on what you want.’
I used to not be able to cope with Lucas’s bluntness. But when he’s on my side, it’s refreshing. That guy is surprising me more and more. It’s so nice of him to finish my dissertation on his own. Plus he’s right – it’s quicker if he does it. As I leave St John’s, I look at my phone to figure out what to do with the rest of my evening. At the top of my chats is an unanswered message from Hot Spiderman. I don’t have any particular desire to see him, but I feel bad about leaving him on read, plus what else am I meant to do tonight? Wash my hair?
I reply to his message, and he texts back within seconds. A bit too fast if I’m honest, but who am I to complain? We make a plan to meet at a bar on Trinity Street, and I go back to my room to make sure I’m looking good and smelling better. I’d have been happy for Hot Spiderman to come straight here, but I guess a drink first is classier. It’s only as I walk towards the bar that I feel a sense of regret at my abandoned night with Lucas. Yes, it’s great that I’m going to have a finished dissertation by morning, but it felt so good to bask in Lucas’s brilliance and let it rub off on me. Is that what it feels like to be top of the class? Is this what I’ve been missing out on all these years?
I arrive at the bar and see Hot Spiderman already seated inside. His hair is still wet from the shower, and he’s wearing a shirt with so many buttons undone it would be rude not to keep going. Instead I find myself dashing past the window before I’m spotted.
What am I doing? He’s gorgeous.
But I’m just not feeling it. What was it that Lucas said? Focus on what you want. And now that Hot Spiderman is being offered to me on a plate, it’s clear he isn’t it. I’m sure I’ll come up with a good way to let him down gently.
I turn around and head back to college. Back in my room, I sit at my desk. Earlier today, I had a delivery from Amazon. It’s nothing if not a good place to start. I turn to the first page and begin to read Economics for Dummies .