Chapter 23
‘Sshhhhh you’ll wake everyone,’ Olly says as he fights with the keycard to open the door.
My teeth are chattering. ‘Do you think we’re going to get in trouble?’
‘Absolutely,’ Olly says, which sets us off into hysterical giggles. ‘Is this the right room?’
The door lock refuses to open.
‘Give it here,’ I say, taking the key card off Olly. ‘It’s upside down.’
I put the card in the lock, and the green light grants us access to his room.
‘Open sesame,’ he says, which sends him into another fit of laughter.
We both fall through the door as our sodden clothes cling to us. I’ve left a small puddle at the doorway. As soon as the door closes behind us, we look at one another and fall into silence.
‘You’re going to have to help me out of these clothes,’ I say.
‘That’s the best offer I’ve had all night.’
I kick my trainers off and peel off my socks, they squelch as they hit the floor. My jeans prove more stubborn. I get them as far as my thighs before the wet denim clamps onto my skin and refuses to budge.
I fall onto the bed. ‘You’re going to have to pull them off.’
Olly grabs the bottom of my jeans and begins to tug at them.
He’s heaving at the jeans while I try to wriggle out of them.
His hands slip, sending him crashing backwards onto the luggage rack.
We both pause before cackling again. The guests in the room next door bang on the wall and shout at us to shut up.
We respond by shouting sorry, then fail to hold in another bout of hysteria.
We bring ourselves to our feet and stand so our toes are touching.
I help Olly lift his jumper over his head before dropping it on the floor to form a pile with my socks.
He kisses me, water drips from my hair onto our noses.
Olly’s fingers work their way down my buttons before I’m pulling at my shirt and adding it to the growing mountain of wet clothes.
The sight of Olly’s torso is breath taking, like looking at one of the wonders of the world.
Not six-packed, chunky, but not fat. Perfect.
I could imagine tourists flocking to take pictures, oohing and ahhing like they do at the Taj Mahal.
I’m shivering from being submerged in the water.
Olly wraps his arms around me to warm me up.
The heat of his body radiates through me.
He kisses me again.
‘Let’s get you out of those clothes before you freeze to death.’
He drops his trousers and I lower my jeans a fraction at a time until we’re facing each other in just our boxers. His are pristine white Ted Baker trunks that cling to his muscled legs. The cotton is nearly transparent from the water. I stand in greying high street branded boxers.
I respond to his grin. ‘What? Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to see them.’
There’s a moment between us as we decide whether to remove our wet underwear too. Chemistry daring each other to go first. He puts his fingers into his waist band. I do the same.
‘After three,’ he says. ‘Three’
We both laugh as we stand naked in front of each other. He pushes me back onto the bed and jumps to the side of me. He tickles me until I’m almost snotting with laughter.
‘Sssshhh, you’ll wake the neighbours.’
His hands work their way to my side until I snort, making him laugh harder until he’s holding his stomach. When we’ve both calmed down, we lay side by side. He kisses me again, his lips soft on mine.
He pulls the duvet over us to keep us warm. ‘You really are beautiful you know.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Look at me. Callum, you’re beautiful.’
I don’t know how to register a compliment from someone as aesthetically perfect as Olly. My mind can’t help but think it’s a wind up. I look away.
Olly touches my chin to bring my face back to meet his. ‘What is it?’
‘Why are you being so nice?’ My heart starts to pace as I prepare for Olly to tell me he’s only joking and to get out his room.
He looks at me like he can see right through me.
‘Who hurt you?’
He catches me off guard, forcing a tear to escape.
He wipes it away. ‘Whoever it was, he must be mad.’
‘He’s gone now,’ I say.
‘Do you miss him?’
A pause hangs between us as I think deeply for a moment.
‘No. Not anymore. It took a while, but I feel safer without him than with him.’
‘That’s a pretty bold statement.’ Olly moves his hand until his fingers are wrapped around mine.
‘I hadn’t realised what we’d become. I was his punchbag. Not physically, he never laid a finger on me, but I think he liked me there to make himself feel good. I was still devastated when he left though. How fucked up is that?’
‘I don’t think it’s fucked up. I think it’s brave.’
I let out a deep sigh. ‘If I was brave, I would have left him. I kept on thinking if I could just do better, if I could change just a little bit more, I’d be enough for him.’
‘You are enough, Callum. I barely know you and I can see you’re enough.’ He wipes another tear from my face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ I tell myself to snap out of my melancholy and shake my head to bring my thoughts back to the present. ‘What’s your story? Why is someone as beautiful as you in bed with me?’
Sharing my vulnerability in front of someone has left me with a strange sense of empowerment. This time I kiss him.
He gives me a playful pinch. ‘You think I’m beautiful.’
‘I think you’re stunning. Why has no one snapped you up?’
‘I’ve had relationships, but they never lasted long.’
I squeeze his hand, willing him to continue.
‘I suppose I’ve always gone for…’ He searches for a word.
‘Dickheads?’ I offer.
‘Yes, pretty much. Otto, my brother, is a big part of my life, and the people I’ve dated didn’t get that. He comes first. Sometimes it means I’m late for dates and I upset people unintentionally.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you. I wish you’d just told me why you were running late. I would have been fine with it; I could have grabbed a coffee until you arrived.’
‘People look at Otto and they see disability; they don’t consider all the things he can do.
’ His face lights up as he talks, pride bursting out of him.
‘He’s funny you know, and clever. And loves so hard.
’ It’s my turn to wipe away a tear from Olly’s face.
‘But people are cruel. Black, gay, and downs.’
‘He’s gay too?’
‘Yes, but to me he’s just Otto. He loves a pint, and he worships Manchester City.
He’s my best pal. When I see how people can be so nasty to him, I lose faith in humanity.
It’s hard not to judge everyone by the same standards.
I mean it’s not as if there’s a special bar for queer men with down’s he can go to. ’
In all the years I’ve been out on Canal Street I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with Downs Syndrome.
Olly continues. ‘I didn’t want you to run for the hills when you found out. Not many people stick around. They say they’re fine with it but they change their mind when they see people staring.’
My heart is fit to burst listening to Olly.
‘Do you have a picture of him?’
Olly jumps out of bed. He stands still for a split seconds as it dawns on us, we’re both naked. We let out a laughter, and he grabs his phone off the side, unlocks the screen and jumps back onto the bed, covering his modesty with a pillow.