Page 46 of We Were Never Lovers
As the year progressed and he’d become mates with Harry—his stomach fluttering when Harry came and found him on the oval before the first bell went every morning to kick the footy—he’d known he liked boys. One boy in particular. But he was never going to get to kiss Harry—Harry also marvelled at Sally Beattie’s chest—and he’d known his dad, his mum, Jayden, they’d be horrified. So he’d focused on footy. Said all the right things about Sally’s tits. And when he moved to the city, he’d managed to lose his virginity after psyching himself up to go home with a skinny guy he’d met on an app, fucked him in the dark of his bedroom he shared with uni buddies, a fumbling encounter over before it’d really begun.
He’d had two more encounters with men since, events he preferred not to think about, especially the final one, but it wasn’t until the other night with Jack he’d felt like this was how good sex could be.
The door slid open and Jack poked his head in. “All done?” he smiled over at Sean.
“Yeah,” Sean breathed out; he’d use the roller, Jorge would leave, and they’d have another pleasant evening not fucking.
“All done,” Jorge replied efficiently, his smile turned down. “Sean, I see you in the gym tomorrow. Jack,” he nodded and headed down the hallway, whistling.
Jack watched him go, which dialled Sean up again.
“He’s got a boyfriend,” Sean said.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Jorge. He’s got a boyfriend. Some hot lawyer, so if you’re thinkin’ about hittin’ that, don’t,” he snapped.
Jack looked like he’d been punched. “What?” he asked again, voice faint.
“I’m pretty sure I’m speakin’ English,” he got himself down on the mat and focused on angrily working his back muscles with the roller.
He heard Jack coming closer. He came into Sean’s line of sight, towering there in his soft, black tracksuit pants and white shirt, face pinched like he was somewhere between confused and pissed off.
“He’s fucking with me,” Jack said.
Sean scoffed. “Like you’re not gaggin’ for it.”
He expected anger, but Jack took a step back, expression devastated. He immediately wanted to take it back, but Jack was spinning away, disappearing down the hall before Sean could say anything.
He felt like an asshole, but he was right. The sound of Jack’s door clicking shut—not slamming, just closing softly—made him feel worse. He didn’t know why he wanted to shut that down so fiercely—Jack could fuck whoever he wanted, or get fucked by whoever he wanted, since it appeared he was a total slut for taking it up the ass. And that thought made Sean furious and horny—a confusing combination—but he understood at least part of the anger. If Jack wanted to get fucked so bad, Sean was right here. Did Jack think he hadn’t done a good enough job? He’d come untouched!
Lola came over to lick his face. He patted her and murmured about her being a good girl until she padded away and he got up. He felt like shit, but he didn’t know how to apologise. Apologising to Jack was not in his repertoire. He’d have a shower and make dinner. He wouldn’t take it back—Jack could get fucked by whoever he wanted, of course he could, but he could have a bit more consideration for how flirting in front of Sean after they’d just fucked, just fucked intensely like that, well, that was just fucking insensitive. Especially since Jack hadn’t said anything since, the bed empty but still warm beside him when Sean had woken up the following morning to the sound of the shower running in Jack’s ensuite. His body had been reaching for Jack’s, wanting to tuck him in and do it again, but Jack was gone, and apparently, Jack was done.
“Hey,” Jack had said, voice clipped when he’d stepped back into the room, the grey dawn light filtering in, his face as closed off as his voice.
“Hey,” Sean had replied gruffly and rolled onto his back, waited until Jack was dressed and gone before he got up, saw the jocks and pants Jack had left for him at the end of the bed, the brace beside them. He’d dressed and crept back to his own room, shut the door so he could breathe, get a hold of the mess in his head.
So how dare Jack act all hurt now after he’d shut down any talk the morning after. Not that Sean wanted to talk about it, he just wouldn’t mind doing it again. Wouldn’t mind Jack keeping it in his pants when hot guys flirted with him.
He got himself in the shower, still stewing over it as the hot water cascaded over his shoulders and steam billowed around him and he thought about that day, more than two and a half years ago now, the last thing he remembered. The slap of Jack’s feet approaching and then the unexpected absence of that sound, the feel of that body standing behind him. Sean had heldhis breath, years of rage colliding with the loss of the game and the sudden need to let it all explode out of him. No more of these leaks, the snide remarks and criticisms, but really let him have it. But as he remembered it now, he felt as well the heartbreak he’d been trying to bury, to pretend never existed. He’d liked Jack. Really fucking liked him. And they’d had that one great day at the footy carnival when they first met, that night when they snuck out.
He remembered the way they raced each other across the oval, before jogging the rest of the way to the Midland shopping centre. Sean had twenty bucks, but Jack told him, “I got it,” with a wolfish smile on his face as he jogged over to a young-looking chick heading into the bottle shop. She stopped, listened to Jack putting on the charm to buy booze for them, had given him a once over before laughing and leaving him there. Jack had been red-faced, head shaking as he lumbered back over to where Sean was cackling at him. “She’s probably worried about gettin’ in trouble,” Jack said, still trying to put some bravado into the words, but clearly embarrassed.
Sean saw another blackfella heading in and he ran over to him. “Hey,” he said, breathless. The guy glanced back suspiciously but his face slid into a lazy grin when he saw who’d called.
“Get us a six pack, eh? Keep the change?” Sean asked and handed over his money.
“Yeah,” he’d replied easily, “Emu Export alright, eh?”
“Yeah, whatever, ta.”
He’d brought their beers out, given Sean a blackfella handshake and smile before wandering back into the dark abyss of the Midland shopping centre car park with his own six pack.
They’d walked back to the oval, talking the whole time. Sean still remembered the buzzing feeling under his skin as their arms brushed together, the sound of Jack’s low voice as he talked non-stop about the game they’d played, narrating Sean’s play, wavinghis hand around and marvelling, “I’ve never seen anyone move that quick. Like, you’re not there and then just, like,there.”
“Ah, shut it,” Sean laughed and bumped him. “Ain’t like you’re an amateur yaself. Not as good as me, but ya know.”
Jack had laughed, delighted, his head thrown back before slanting down to grin. Sean remembered the sight of his teeth—the slight overlap of the front two lit up under the orange glow of the streetlights—the way that smile made his stomach swoop.
