Page 47 of Hard Tail
Chapter Fifteen
Monday morning, the coffee in my stomach felt like cement in a mixer as I waited for Matt to turn up to work. God, what was I going to say to him now he knew I’d lied to him—by omission, even if not directly—about my sexuality?
How would Jay handle a situation like this? Simple: he wouldn’t get into this situation in the first place. But if he did… I tried to imagine what he’d say: “Oh, Matt? Thought I’d try being a poof for a bit. See how it goes. Yeah, bit of a snap decision. Your mate Adam’s a right goer, isn’t he? I’m well in there. Right, back to work…”
There was no way on this earth I could say anything like that to Matt—
The door jangled, and Matt stepped through, managing to stay upright this time. He gave me a wary look, and my butterfly-filled intestines tied themselves in guilty knots, no doubt breaking a fair few wings in the process. I took a deep breath. “Matt… I’m really sorry,” I said awkwardly.
“What?” Matt frowned, walking towards me. “What for?”
“For, well, lying to you. Saying I hadn’t gone out when I obviously had. And, um, the other stuff.”
The slight creases on his brow smoothed away instantly. “Hey, it’s all right. I get it—you’re not out. It’s not a problem. And don’t worry—I won’t say a word to anyone. ’Specially Jay, if you don’t want me to.” He stared at me earnestly, and I felt ashamed of myself—firstly for lying, and secondly for doubting him. “I know what it’s like, okay? I’d never out anyone who didn’t want it.”
“Matt,” I said, the weight of the world slipping off my far-too-narrow shoulders, “you’re a star. Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem. And, you know, I am glad.”
He was glad I was gay?
God knows what my face looked like as he rushed on. “About you and Adam, I mean. He’s a good bloke. A good mate. He won’t let you down.”
I believed him. I wished I could be so sure about myself, however.
***
After Matt disappeared into the back room, I didn’t see him again until lunchtime, when he emerged holding a foil-wrapped package. “Got your lunch, here,” he said, holding it out. “Wraps again.”
I reached out a bit too eagerly to take it and ended up hissing as my shoulder twinged.
“Are you all right?” Matt asked, frowning.
I rotated my shoulder carefully. “Bit stiff from karate yesterday,” I said without thinking.
“You do karate?” There was something about Matt’s tone as he asked that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was used to people disbelieving me, asking an incredulousYou? Why?—but this was something different.
“Er, yes. I got my black belt quite recently,” I added, feeling a sort of defensive pride.
If I was after congratulations, I didn’t get them. Matt didn’t even give me the tired oldWhat, are they giving them away these days?“Oh,” was all Matt said. What was up with him? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it—and then it hit me: he was wearing the sort of expression I’d always expected to see on people’s faces if I ever announced I fancied blokes.
“What? You don’t approve of martial arts?” I asked a bit sharply.
“No—I mean, no, I haven’t got a problem with… I just didn’t think you were the type, that’s all.” Matt stared unhappily at his trainer-clad toes, as if they’d just announced they were leaving him to run off with a pair of Gucci loafers.
“The type?” I checked myself. “You get all sorts at karate classes, you know,” I went on in a hopefully less defensive tone. “Kids with their dads. Or their mums. Girls who want to know a bit of self-defence. Boys who’ve been bullied at school and need a bit of physical self-confidence. It’s a good sport,” I finished a bit weakly.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Matt’s face was still hidden in a mass of shaggy curls as he stared resolutely at the floor.
“I mean, sometimes you get someone who’s a bit of an arse,” I admitted. “Take the class I’m going to down here—there’s one guy who’s the sort who gives the sport a bad name. But we’re not all vicious thugs like Prick-tard, sorry, Pritchard.”
Matt’s head shot up. “Pritchard? Steve Pritchard?”
A hot, uncomfortable feeling spread across my chest. Why the hell hadn’t it occurred to me the bastard might be someone he knew? “I don’t know his first name—the others all call him Pit-bull,” I added, more or less on the principle that blame shared is blame halved.
Then it hit me. “Wait—Steve?YourSteve?”
Matt nodded jerkily. “Class down in Totton, right?” He tried to smile. “Yeah, that’s him.”
