CHAPTER 4 #2
‘Oh dang, are you okay?’ asked Sam, clasping Jeremy’s shoulder and steadying him.
Jeremy paused. They were standing close together now, and he felt frozen by the grip on his shoulder.
The feeling of Sam’s warm hand, somehow enveloping the entirety of his arm, the sharp pain still in his head, and the flashes of Sam’s body so close to his own that he didn’t dare focus on: the warm hardness of his chest, the wet lick of his shaggy hair, the mysterious shadow of his penis.
He could feel warmth and static between them, their legs close enough to brush.
‘Ahh,’ said Jeremy, blushing again, and stepping backwards.
This helped him realise that somewhere along the road he’d dropped his own towel, which was now pooled around his feet, and he too was standing there naked.
‘Hunky dory,’ he said too loudly. ‘Great Bowie album, also a great state to be in. Hunky dory!’ He yanked the shirt out of Sam’s hands, watching as he smiled in amusement.
He turned away and hurriedly pulled the shirt over his head, then grasped in his locker for underpants, thinking he could feel Sam’s eyes still watching him. But that was probably his imagination.
‘Well, just try not to hit your head again – you need that for thinking,’ Sam said, and, looking over his shoulder, Jeremy saw he was still looking at him, and he was doing that smile again.
Jeremy tried to work out if it was a mocking smile or a sarcastic smile – or even a predatory grin, like the ones on the high school boys who found it fun to bash him up.
But there was nothing except gentle amusement and welcome: the first ray of sun on a warm morning.
‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t do much thinking.’ He pulled on his pants over his still-wet legs, then slammed the locker shut and scurried out of the change room, his shoes in his hand, his towel and backpack tossed over one shoulder.
He hated being that flustered – he was not usually someone who got flustered: he just dealt with things and had his emotions later.
And the worst thing was he didn’t even know why he was affected so badly, except for the flagrant awkwardness of the whole situation.
Sure, he famously hated locker rooms, and getting stuck without any clothes on with some guy he already disliked because he was too good at Body Fury was clearly an extension of his feud with the location.
That had to be it. He didn’t find Sam attractive – he was shorter and more solid than the kinds of guys Jeremy liked …
like a hobbit. And even if his shoulders and those biceps were surprisingly developed, where were the abs?
Jeremy liked men who looked like elven princes, like the ghosts of beautiful Victorian lords who’d died of consumption.
Miles, for example, had looked like a very beautiful librarian, all fine bones and piercing eyes and long fingers.
Sometimes, Jeremy had watched him sleep and wondered how a human face could be so perfect, so pristine, so symmetrical.
As he waited for the lift, Jeremy slowed his breathing, put on his shoes and stuffed his towel into his bag.
The gym was on the fifth floor of an old converted shopping arcade.
The world’s slowest lift, a clunking, moaning box that smelt like what he imagined an old steam train would, was the only way he’d found to get up and down.
He tapped his foot impatiently, surreptitiously looking over his shoulder at the foyer and the door to the change room, begging the lift to climb up from the ground floor before anyone joined him.
When it finally, laboriously, opened its doors and let out a couple of people, Jeremy jumped inside and started mashing the G button and then the button for the doors, breathing out in relief as they started to close.
But just like in a nineties slasher film (Jeremy only liked horror movies where the villain was queer coded) an arm slammed between the elevator doors, pushing them open again. Jeremy stared in sick horror at it – a tanned, thickened forearm, a large hand – and knew who it belonged to.
‘Thank you for holding,’ exclaimed the smiling face of Sam as he forced himself into the lift.
He was clothed now in nondescript grey sweatpants and a dark-blue hoodie, his hair damp and pushed back, his face still flushed from exertion.
Jeremy noticed he had a sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheekbones.
‘Oh, no problem,’ answered Jeremy automatically, realising his finger was still resting on the close-doors button. He mashed it again.
They stood in silence, Jeremy pulling out his phone to faux-scroll – there was no reception in the ancient, probably lead-lined lift – but he made his face look super interested, as if he was solving a problem.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam standing comfortably, bag slung over his shoulder, one hand in his pocket, appearing completely at ease and happy with the world.
Jeremy felt that stir of hatred again. Imagine feeling comfortable in situations and places?
‘How have you been finding Body Fury?’ asked Sam brightly. ‘It’s fun, right? I like how we get to listen to the biggest pop hits of yesteryear – it’s a real trip down memory lane.’
‘Yeah, it’s swell,’ muttered Jeremy. ‘I love how every day the world’s meanest woman watches me humiliate myself. Keeps me humble.’
Sam chuckled. ‘Yeah, Davina does bring a certain something to the class. I’m not sure what it is, but it makes me feel like I could be in the military.’
‘It’s as if the White Witch from Narnia taught aerobics.’
That got a bright laugh from Sam, which melted a little of Jeremy’s iciness towards his gym nemesis. He liked it when people were generous laughers – especially in response to his own jokes.
‘I wish she’d throw us little squares of Turkish delight when we do well,’ Sam said, and Jeremy found himself laughing too, surprised that someone he’d decided to dislike was able to manage a good joke. But Jeremy inevitably found Narnia-based jokes quite funny, so maybe it was a fluke.
The lift continued to clunk its way down, and Jeremy looked up properly from his phone to see Sam watching him, smiling slightly.
‘I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Sam,’ he said, holding out his hand across the lift. Jeremy took it, once again noting how large and warm Sam’s hand was.
‘Jeremy,’ he said, feeling his hand get squeezed gently by Sam in response. It was at that moment that the lift shuddered and stopped, and the lights blinked off, plunging them into darkness.