Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
George
‘Has George explained the course to you?’ Rick Toledo asks my parents.
‘No,’ says my mom.
She does have a short memory.
‘So the two sides of the Thames are called Surrey and Middlesex.’ Rick places a salt and pepper grinder in the centre of the table as he explains. ‘Those are both the names of English counties.’
‘Middlesex isn’t a county,’ says Jemima. ‘Not anymore. Not unless your name is Geoffrey Chaucer.’
‘Let’s not overcomplicate it,’ I say.
‘Eek wel I woot, he seyde myn housbonde,’ says Jemima.
My mom looks bewildered.
‘Wife of Bath,’ says Jemima. ‘Learned it at school. Absolute legend.’
‘Who’s she talking about?’ says my mom to my dad.
‘Geoffrey,’ my dad says confidently.
‘What about him?’
‘Absolute legend. His wife is in the bath. Not sure what that has to do with anything.’
I’m at a restaurant in Battersea with my parents, Jemima and Rick Toledo. When Rick learned that my parents were flying over, he invited us all out to dinner. When I mentioned it to Jemima, she invited herself. Believe it or not, she’s four months sober. Turns out she actually did jump off a ski lift at New Year’s Eve, broke both her legs, and had an epiphany. You’d think that not drinking might make her less chaotic, but based on tonight’s evidence that’s just her personality. I’m hoping everyone will settle down once we order.
‘Ciao ciao ciao,’ says Landon, striding up to the table.
‘Landon,’ I say, clocking his fresh fake tan. ‘What are you doing here?’
Jemima smiles at me. ‘We thought it would be great to touch base with the whole team.’
‘Is the whole team coming?’ My mom looks around anxiously.
‘I mean us,’ laughs Jemima. ‘George’s team. Your son is on the verge of big, big things.’
My mom looks awkward. ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’
‘Let me run you through it,’ says Jemima. ‘The Vogue piece drops tomorrow. Then George is shooting a campaign for Reebok. Met Gala in the fall. Custom Balenciaga.’
My parents look baffled.
‘After that,’ says Rick, ‘we need to get George back in the US college system. We’re thinking an MEd at Stanford.’
He smiles at my dad. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice? Your son back Stateside.’
My dad frowns at the menu. ‘Stanford’s a long way from Wisconsin.’
Thanks, Dad.
‘And by then, the TV series will be live,’ says Landon. ‘And someone will be the internet’s new boyfriend.’
He grins at my mom, but she turns to my dad.
‘Ron, do you think they put flour in the coq au vin?’
‘Mom, Landon’s talking to you!’
My mom shoots me a look and turns back to Landon.
‘The network are delighted with the rushes from yesterday,’ says Landon. ‘All we need now is the money shot – George standing up in the boat, arms raised in victory. How do you like the sound of that?’
My mom frowns. ‘It sounds a bit dangerous.’
‘Nah, not for your boy. He can do anything.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘You must be so proud of him,’ says Jemima.
My mom turns red and says nothing.
‘Sure they are!’ says Landon. ‘They produced this gorgeous specimen.’
My mom looks at my dad. ‘Ron, maybe we can ask the waiter.’
‘MOM!’
Everyone is startled by how loudly I spoke. Me included.
‘No need to raise your voice,’ says my dad.
‘Yes there is! You haven’t been interested in anything since you landed. Every time these guys talk about me, or rowing, or Oxford, you change the subject.’
My parents don’t know what to say. I’ve never spoken to them like this.
‘We’re here, aren’t we?’ says my dad.
‘Only because the network paid.’
‘Well, we lost all that money on flights when we were planning to come to your graduation last year.’
Jemima and Rick share an uneasy glance.
‘Maybe there’s a better time for this convo,’ Landon says tactfully.
‘When?’ I say. ‘I never see them.’
The waiter comes to take our order, and my parents frantically engage him about the coq au vin recipe. I feel the moment slipping through my fingers.
‘George,’ says Landon. ‘you’ve got a big day tomorrow. Let’s put a pin in this.’
I manage to hold myself together and make it through the meal. Everyone acts like the previous conversation didn’t happen. Jemima spends most of the time trying to list the ceremonial counties of England while my parents sit in silence. Landon picks up the check, which means he’s definitely going to expense it. When I tell my parents I’ll see them after the race tomorrow, they don’t respond. I just have to accept I’m never going to have the conversation I want to have with them. I’m never going to understand why they take so little interest in me. In that case, I might as well keep Landon, Rick and Jemima happy. My team, I mean. They’ve invested a lot in me, as they keep reminding me. The least I can do in return is deliver tomorrow. Give them the money shot. I get out my phone to plot my journey back to Putney.
That’s when I see the text from Lucas.
I stare at it. I feel like I must be imagining it. Is it a trick? What does he want? The thought of seeing him face to face, one on one, makes me sick. But that’s no reason to avoid him. Not after what just happened at the table. The only question is when and where. We can’t meet at either of our bases. Meeting in public is risky. I google hotels nearby and call the first one I find.
‘Hi there, do you have a room free right now?’
I text Lucas the details, then head over to the Great Western Inn on Putney High Street. No one will suspect two men from rival squads of meeting here. In the hotel lobby, I stand in line behind a Polish family and a rowdy group of women from Liverpool.
Eventually, I get my key card and go up to the room. It’s not too seedy, given the price tag. Outside the window, the river shimmers ominously beneath the moonlight. I turn on the TV and stare at an episode of Junior Masterchef . A few minutes later, Lucas texts to say he’s downstairs. I’m struggling to control my breathing, but I’m also the most alive I’ve felt in months. Is this really happening? I pull myself together in time to turn off the TV and check my reflection in the mirror.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it. There’s a knock at the door. I go over and open it. There he is. There’s my Lucas.
Neither of us says anything. Every feeling I’ve tried to block out for the past nine months comes rushing back all at once. He looks the same. Just as small. Just as cute. Maybe cuter.
When he looks me in the eye, it’s the best and worst thing ever to happen to me. Thank god I didn’t look at him during the weigh-in. Neither of us knows how to proceed. Should we stand? Sit on the bed? Is that weird? Lucas walks over to the window and pretends to look at the view. I follow him halfway, then perch on the sideboard.
Eventually, Lucas turns to me. ‘It was a good twist. I’ll give you that.’
My throat is dry. ‘It wasn’t my idea.’
‘Switching to Oxford?’
‘No, keeping it a secret.’
Lucas raises an eyebrow and says nothing.
‘I signed an NDA,’ I insist. ‘I did try to tell you.’
Lucas frowns.
‘The postcard,’ I say.
‘What? I didn’t get a postcard.’
‘I sent it months ago. It was the only way I could think of to get around my NDA.’
Lucas shakes his head, as if that’s not good enough.
I’m hit with a flash of anger. ‘It’s not like you’ve never done anything behind my back.’
That one gets him. Lucas looks at me, heartfelt.
‘I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ I insist. ‘It all worked out. I got my own show. I’m going to Stanford in the fall.’
Lucas looks surprised. ‘To do what?’
‘An MEd.’
‘How can you do a master’s when you don’t even have a degree?’
‘I do have a degree. They gave me one in the end.’
Lucas’s mouth drops open. ‘What?’
‘They changed their mind. I just wasn’t allowed to graduate or stay in Cambridge.’
‘Are you serious? So it worked.’
Now it’s me who’s confused.
‘I went to see that guy we met,’ says Lucas. ‘I threatened to go public.’
‘Wait, you got me my degree back?’
‘No, George, you did. I gave him your exam papers. The real ones. I asked him to mark them fairly.’ Lucas places a hand on my arm. ‘Guess you passed after all.’
I don’t know how to describe what I feel in that moment. All this time I’ve thought I must have failed or Lucas wouldn’t have bothered to swap the papers. I assumed they gave me a degree out of sympathy. Now I learn that I actually earned a Cambridge degree. Me, George Holst. And all along, it was Lucas who was behind it.
‘Why didn’t you tell me they gave you a degree?’ Lucas asks.
‘There wasn’t any point.’
Lucas is unconvinced. I really don’t want to explain, but we’ve got this far.
‘Because you’re with Amir.’
Lucas averts his gaze. ‘Actually, we broke up.’
I can’t help it – my heart leaps at the news.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Lucas asks.
‘I fell for you, Lucas. But I was never quite sure if I was your type. When you let me sit my exams, I thought that meant you thought I was smart. Then when I found out what you’d done, I realised you never had.’
Lucas looks astonished. ‘I didn’t do it because I don’t think you’re smart!’
I’m taken aback by his conviction.
‘Firstly, I don’t think some stupid exams prove anything about anyone. But I realised you were smart as soon as I got to know you. I was scared of what failing would do to you.’
He looks at me earnestly, willing me to believe it. I want to believe it. Then I see a thought flash across Lucas’s mind.
‘This one time, in school—’
I can’t help smiling. ‘Is this a high school story?’
‘Not what we call it, but sure. There was this talent show. My sister was down to perform. She was about fourteen. Loads of older kids performing. Loads of mean girls in the audience.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I heard my sister rehearsing at home. She can sing, but she gets nervous. There were times when she couldn’t hit the high notes. I kept picturing the mean girls laughing at her. Maybe even booing. And I got scared it was going to scar her for life. So I spoke to a few of her friends and most of mine. I told them they had to applaud really loudly. Give her a standing ovation. Maybe I went a bit overboard, but I needed her to see it as a success. When it came to the performance, she nailed it. She was so happy with the response. Then some idiot went and told her I’d instructed the whole school to applaud no matter what, and my sister was convinced that meant I didn’t think she was any good. However hard I tried, I couldn’t convince her it wasn’t that at all. I believed in her. I knew what she was capable of. I went too far because I was desperate for her to see herself how I did. To understand how brilliant she was.’
Lucas looks deep into my eyes. Before I know what I’m doing, I step forward and kiss him.
He freezes. For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away.
But now he’s kissing me back.
It’s nothing like the kiss on the Ferris wheel. That was a stolen moment that didn’t feel real. Here, we have all the time in the world – at least, it feels like we do. Except that every time our lips press together, I become more impatient. I’m ready to finally do the things I’ve been dreaming about all year.
We tumble onto the bed. First I’m on top of Lucas, then he’s on top of me. Now I’m pulling his shirt over his head, my pants around my ankles, laughing as we remember our socks. I linger as I slide down his briefs.
Just like that, we’re both naked. I’m naked in bed with Lucas. How did it take us this long? There’s nothing like that feeling of shedding your clothes and feeling two bodies intertwine. I’ve never understood people who say it’s like you’ve become one. For me, it’s all about the fact that one of those bodies is not yours, but feels closer to you than you do to yourself.
Now Lucas is kissing his way down my stomach and liking what he finds. I lie back and close my eyes. He really knows what he’s doing. He’s not shy at all. I love how when you have sex with someone, you both turn into slightly different people.
I open my eyes and look at Lucas. He holds my gaze but doesn’t stop. Damn, that’s hot. So hot that if he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to get close. I’m not ready for that.
I sit up and push Lucas onto his back. I start slowly, but even the slightest touch produces a moan of pleasure. Pretty soon, I’ve got Lucas clutching the sheets and arching his back in ecstasy. Me when I’m in bed? I let my ego take over. I’m the only one who can make Lucas feel this good. I’m the best in the world. After a while, I flip him onto his front, kiss him on the back of his neck and ears, then slide down below his waist.
That butt looks even better up close. I tickle it with my breath, then my tongue. Now Lucas’s moaning goes into overdrive. Something tells me no one’s ever done this to him. I tease him into ever more intense exclamations. The louder he gets, the more turned on I am. Eventually, I climb back up, pressing into Lucas from behind, and tell him what I want to do to him.
Lucas turns to me. ‘Same.’
‘Really?’ I look at him in surprise.
‘If you’re up for it.’
‘Yeah. It’s just .?.?. I’ve never done it that way round.’
Lucas grins. ‘You’ve been missing out.’
I feel a rush of excitement at the thought of Lucas inside me. There’s a brief interlude while we both take a shower and discuss logistics. Maybe I’m weird, but I like these pauses where you act like you’re planning a long car journey. It makes me feel like the other person sees me as human, and not some porn robot.
We get back into it slowly, lying on the bed, brushing each other with our fingertips and gazing into each other’s eyes, getting drunk on the feeling.
At some point, Lucas climbs on top of me. I feel him kiss my cheeks. Yes, those ones. Then there’s his tongue. Holy shit. He’s a fast learner. Lucas can tell how much I’m loving it, which makes him go for it more, which makes me love it even more, and so on.
He comes back up to kiss me, and asks if I’m ready. As if it wasn’t clear.
‘You know what they call this?’ Lucas says.
‘Call what?’
‘When the shorter guy’s on top.’
He grins at me.
‘A jet pack.’
That’s another thing I love about great sex. Those moments of humour. Lucas turns me onto my side and curls behind me. A few seconds later, I feel him enter me. I try to follow my own advice and relax, but let’s be real – I’m so turned on by this point that I can take anything. Lucas flips me into different positions, each one a revelation. By the looks of surprise and delight on his face, I’m guessing this is his first time too. After a while, I lean in and whisper.
‘My turn.’
Lucas lies on his back and I hoist his feet over my shoulders. As I ease my way in, we don’t break eye contact, and I’m not sure I’ve ever known a better feeling. I’ve never been one to talk much during sex, but I’m struggling to keep my mouth shut. Because there’s only one thing I want to say to Lucas, and I know it would be crazy to say it now. Instead, I close my eyes and embrace the feeling.
I love how this feels. I love how much Lucas is enjoying it too. I’m following his lead, not going any harder than he can take it, but he keeps asking for more. Time to show him what I’ve got. I’m not a porn robot – just a regular sex god. My only concern is that they can hear us in the room next door. Just kidding – that’s their problem.
I could do this all night, but after a while, I feel myself starting to get close again. This time, Lucas works himself to the edge, so we can both finish together. Now I get it – that feeling that we’re becoming one. I’ve never felt so satisfied.
I’ve never felt closer to anyone.
Afterwards, we collapse onto the bed and lie there, catching our breath. I curl my arms around Lucas. I don’t want to let go. But after a couple of minutes, he gets up and goes to the bathroom.
As I hear him take another shower, I feel weirdly upset. How can he move on from what just happened? Why can’t we remain in this state of ecstasy forever?
But of course we can’t. He needs to get back to his camp. We both do.
Still, when Lucas hurries out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, he has an anxious look that I’m not prepared for.
‘What happens now?’ I ask him.
Lucas looks at me in surprise. ‘In case you’d forgotten, we have a race to row.’
‘Yeah, but then what?’
Lucas starts pulling his clothes on. ‘Can we talk about this after the race?’
‘What is there to talk about?’
‘I mean, for starters, the fact that you’re moving to America.’
I feel a rush of indignation. ‘So what was this? One last fuck?’
Lucas looks wounded. ‘Of course not. I just mean – I can’t have the talk tonight. I shouldn’t have done this.’
‘You asked to meet me!’
‘I know, I didn’t mean .?.?. George, it’s not .?.?. it’s just—’
It’s what, Lucas? What is it? I know it’s irrational, but I’m mad at him for puncturing the feeling I had five minutes ago.
What else matters apart from us?
‘Can we please just have a conversation?’ I plead. ‘Don’t leave it like this.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ says Lucas. ‘We’ll talk after the race, I promise.’
‘Don’t walk away from me, Lucas.’
Lucas gives me a look which says everything and nothing. Something catches his eye, and he brushes a finger along my cheek to remove a fallen eyelash. We both stare at it for a moment, silenced without knowing why. Then he turns and walks out.