Page 45 of Hard Tail
Chapter Fourteen
I woke up so late on Sunday morning it barely still qualified as such. My head ached, and the fact I’d been outed in front of Matt—which I’d conveniently managed to forget while blinded by lust last night—came back to haunt me like the ghost of an all-nighter on Russian vodka. He must think I was a coward, a hypocrite—
I sat bolt upright as self-loathing was booted out of play by abject terror. It might not just be Matt I had to worry about. God, what if he’d gone to see Jay last night—or this morning? What if he’d told him the whole story?
I should have asked Matt not to say anything. Bloody hell, I should have got down on my knees andbeggedhim not to. So much for my risk-free experiment. Even now, a hysterical Mum was probably being restrained by teams of bulky male nurses…
Usually when I fantasized about bulky male nurses, Mum was nowhere in sight, and a bloody good thing too.
I scrambled out of bed and pulled on the jeans I’d been wearing last night. My first instinct was to dash down to the hospital and find out if my worst fears had been realised—but then what? Either Matt had done it, or he hadn’t, and either way, I wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. There was an outside chance, I supposed, of me getting there in the nick of time to stop him blurting it all out, but I had a feeling that bursting into the room waving my arms and shouting, “Don’t tell him, Matt!” probably wasn’t the best way to keep a secret.
I had Matt’s email address, so I supposed I could send him a message—but God, trying to explain to him why I didn’t want anyone to know about my inclinations would be tough enough in person. I really didn’t want to attempt it by email, where I’d probably come off like a total prick no matter how many ROFLs and smileys I used.
It was slightly worrying to realise I cared more about Matt’s good opinion than about my family’s. Doubly so, as there was a good chance Matt’s opinion of me was tarnished beyond recovery in any case.
So. No dash to the hospital, then. I looked at my watch. There was barely time to make it to karate, and I seriously considered missing training—but sitting at home worrying wasn’t going to do me any good. Better to go and improve my fighting techniques, ready for the first gay-bashing.
Not that I was being unduly pessimistic about the whole bloody mess, of course.
I got there just as the warm-up was starting. Sensei mimed tapping a non-existent watch as I got into line next to John, so when we got onto basics, I was extra conscientious about doing the techniques correctly. It helped take my mind off things, anyway.
“Good night, last night, was it?” John murmured as we waited for the next command.
My stomach lurched—and then I realised, feeling like an idiot, that he’d only been referring to my lateness. “Bit mixed, really,” I told him truthfully.
“Oh? I’d been hoping that one of us, at least, had got lucky.”
“Luck takes one look at me and runs for the hills,” I muttered, just before Sensei bellowed at us again.
I certainly hadn’t been lucky enough to have Pritchard miss the class again. He glowered at me from a few places down the line. Not feeling in the mood for a confrontation, when we split into pairs forkumiteI made sure I grabbed John and dragged him over to the other side of the dojo where we could practice our set attacks and retaliations in peace.
Trouble was, we were told to change partners several times, and each swap seemed to bring me closer and closer to Pritchard. We were almost side-by-side—and then Sensei called for us to get back in line. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to head back—only to find myself sprawling to the floor as something took my foot out from under me.
I was pretty certain thatsomethinghad been Pritchard’s outstretched foot.
I fell awkwardly and landed heavily, throwing out my right arm to try to break my fall. It mainly succeeded in jarring my shoulder, and I winced at the pain.
“Are you all right?” John asked, reaching down a hand. I took it with my left, and he pulled me up easily.
“You wanna watch where you’re going,” Prick-tard muttered at me, looking as if he’d have liked nothing better than to give me a good kicking while I was down.
“Are you all right, Mr. Knight?” Sensei bounded over with a look of concern.
“I’m fine,” I said through teeth I was trying very hard not to grit. “Just tripped. Not sure what over, though,” I added with a look over at Prick-tard that was so pointed it could have etched glass.
Sensei must have seen me glaring but decided not to pursue the matter. Maybe he thought it best to just let things blow over. Or maybe he realised I’d have been a bit more direct in accusing Pritchard if I’d actually had any evidence—even that of my own eyes—that he’d deliberately tripped me.
“What on earth has Pit-bull got against you?” John murmured in my ear as we got back into line. “Did you sleep with his girlfriend or something?”
Pit-bull Pritchard with a girlfriend… Now that was a scary thought. I wondered what she’d be like. Brash and common? No—someone like that might be tempted to argue with him, and I didn’t reckon Prick-tard would go for that at all. No, she was probably small, mousey and timid, too terrified to have an opinion of her own in case Prick-tard disagreed. “Well, he knows about the bike shop. Maybe Jay once sold him a dodgy pump adaptor?”
When the session finished, I made sure I kept an eye on Pritchard in case he was tempted to go for the double. He made do with glaring at me, and I managed to get home without getting into a fight.
I had a quick shower and some beans on toast, feeling positively virtuous at the moderately healthy meal. And I hadn’t used the microwave at all.
Then I forced myself to go and visit Jay. Whatever happened, at least I’d know where I stood. For now, at least.
***
