-- This part of the story is told from Rory's POV, rather than Sebastian's, like all the others. Which was a bit of a challenge for me. All the main characters are 18 or above --
Maybe I was being stupid, but there was a crease in my school shirt that just would not go away. It was so intensely and profoundly irritating. It was one little flaw that I knew I'd see every time I looked in the mirror that day. I tutted and looked up at my hair; it, at least, looked fine. Which is about as good as I could expect from it, I suppose. My teeth were straight and white -- kind of like my embittered, late great-grandfather's vision of the ideal population. I cleared my throat and swallowed.
Getting ready for school was an ordeal at the best of times. Like a vanity-fuelled OCD of constant checking. But it had become ten times worse since realising that I had a boyfriend to impress when I got there. 'No, you don't,' snapped the sensible little voice in my head. 'You don't have a boyfriend. You have a guy who took you out to dinner, once, and kissed you, twice.' That voice then went on to remind me of the less-than-sexy psycho meltdown I'd taken in front of my proto-boyfriend on Saturday night, because some slutty bitch-twink he'd been involved with had called me fat. As bad seductions went, it probably had to rank up there with Adolf Hitler's marriage proposal in the bunker.
Falling so hard for Sebastian had definitely not been intentional, nor had the rapid build-up to our first date. If that's what it was. It is what was, idiot -- it was quite clearly a date. I do this; I second guess myself all the time. He called it a date; therefore it was a date. Don't over-think things. Neediness is annoying -- do not embrace it. If Sebastian wanted neediness, he'd still be the Whore-Bitch Joshua. The problem with this unexpected crush of frankly epic proportions was that, until sometime last week, I'd held a generally low opinion of Sebastian. When I thought about him at all, which was very rarely, I thought of him as this kind of cocky jock, who seemed totally out of place at an English school, and whose sole interesting feature was that he was the only (openly) gay member of the school's rugby team. I'd spoken to him, maybe, a dozen times in my whole life and never in any great detail. I knew people thought he was really good looking. And he was. Is. He is legitimately stunning, in a sort of rugged, handsome, masculine sort of way. It's his confidence that makes it. Well, that and the muscles, the dirty blond hair and the brown eyes. He's actually a beautiful man. Not beautiful in a pretty boy way. He's a man. He's really... I don't know. He's solid and he's kind and he's infuriating and wonderful, all at the same time. I can say now that Sebastian is the great love of my life and that I felt that about him, genuinely, very early on.
But not, of course, on the day after the first date. Even teenage love moves slightly slower than that. On that Tuesday, I was struggling, a little, with a deep urge to see him and a niggling fear that I didn't want to be his next Joshua. I might even last less time than Joshua had -- after all, Joshua was stunningly good looking. Provided that you didn't look too closely at him. If you did, you'd soon realise that there was no light behind the bambi-eyes, apart from the special gleam endowed by his latent insanity. I'm being mean, yes, but I really, really hate Joshua Peterly.
I put my blazer on and forced myself to look away from the reflection. There was no point doing that to myself, not today -- this was as good as it was going to get. I might as well just accept what God has given me and work with it. Do not obsess. Do not obsess. Do not obsess... 'do not obsess' is the quiet little mantra of crazy, tapping over and over in my head like a neurotic metronome.
My phone beeped and I looked at it as I walked down the stairs. It wasn't from Sebastian; it was from Virginia. Her dad was about to confiscate her phone (harsh) and I was bringing her in my spare one. Sorry, Papa Reilly -- we've outmanoeuvred you on this one!
I saw Sebastian as soon as I walked up to the school entrance. He was standing waiting for me outside the foyer. He had one hand in his pocket and he was eating an apple. The second he saw me, he tossed it into the bin and smiled. I thought I saw him jolt forward slightly, as if he was considering walking over to me. But he thought better of it and made me come to him. He liked to play games, which was okay, because I did too. He was clever, which I liked, and slightly teasing and mocking, which I liked even more - even though I never thought I would. I took myself too seriously. I knew that. So did he. He was good for me, in that respect.
'My phone isn't working,' he said, instead of a hello. 'That's why I didn't text you this morning.'
'Oh,' I shrugged. 'I hadn't noticed.'
'Liar,' he smirked. We were standing outside the school doors staring at each other. He really was tall. He smelt nice, too. Freshly-washed; like he always did. 'You're such a little fucking bitch-liar.'
No-one had ever called me something so vile and said it in such an affectionate tone. I smiled at him and put my hand on my forehead to shield my eyes. The sun was blinding today. An autumnal sun - bright, but not too warm. 'You're so charming.'
'I know,' he said. 'So, dinner tonight?'
'Yes,' I answered, without even thinking. I thought he'd tease me about how quickly I'd answered, but he didn't. He just gave a smile and nodded; he was pleased. Clearly and obviously pleased. 'What time?' I asked.
'I'll pick you up at seven.'
'Do you want to maybe go see a movie?' I said. It was more of a reflex than anything else; there wasn't anything I particularly wanted to see. He hesitated for a moment before answering, which I took to mean he hadn't really wanted to see a movie. But he said yes and said he'd check the times. We walked in together and I saw Virginia and Caroline staring over at me, analysing what was going on. They'd known about the date, of course, and I'd already spoken to Virginia last night on the phone about how well it'd gone. They smiled politely at Sebastian, as I fell in with them to go to our registration class. I was relieved they didn't hate him or disapprove. That would've been a nightmare. I handed Virginia over the replacement phone and the conversation turned to her father's clear case of psychosis in his mega-harsh phone confiscation punishment. Caroline called it a 'theatre of cruelty,' which, at eighteen, I thought was a bang-on accurate way to describe anyone who'd try to make someone live without a mobile phone.
Robbie grilled me in class that afternoon, asking for every detail. It was easier to talk to him than to the girls and I told him everything about the date. He teased me, a lot, that it hadn't gone further and he called me a cock tease. I laughed and blushed,. 'He really likes you, you know,' Robbie said, earnestly. 'He likes everything about you, Rory.' He reached under the table and squeezed my hand: 'Trust me, he does.'
I smiled weakly and squeezed his hand back. I felt like muttering a silent Hail Mary to prevent myself freaking out. I didn't know where these feelings of mounting panic came from, but every now and then they'd just crash over me, like a wave I didn't see coming. Robbie squeezed again: 'Enjoy this,' he said, firmly. If there was anyone I could ever possibly have loved more than Sebastian, it would have been Robbie. I took a deep breath and nodded. Our hands separated and I returned to listening to what the particularly incompetent teacher at the front of the class was talking about. I steadied myself. There was no reason to feel nervous. Sebastian was a good guy and, even looking at it impartially, I knew Robbie must be right -- Sebastian must like me, given the way he was behaving. I shouldn't feel anything but happiness at this; there should be no feeling of panic. The tightness in my chest would go away, I told myself. I just had to concentrate hard enough on making myself relax.
Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on running into Joshua Peterly in the first floor boys' bathroom right before lunch that day. I was washing my hands and wondering if I could borrow Claudia's anti-bacterial hand gel when I got into the cafeteria, when I felt someone staring at me. It happens -- most English private schools are pretty open-minded, but it's relative. The older kids, i.e. people my age, generally consider it uncool to be homophobic, but if you're 'out' in high school, you're still going to get stared at by the juniors. I suppose they're too young to realise that gay people actually exist outside of 'Glee.' I glanced to my right, assuming I'd see some awkward early teen, but I didn't. It was someone who had the emotional maturity of a pre-teen, unhappily trapped in an eighteen year-old's body: Joshua Peterly. He was gazing at me with frankly sizzling loathing.
Jesus, Mary and Saint George could come streaming out of Heaven before I would voluntarily start a conversation with him. I turned off the tap and made for the hand-dryer.
'How's Seb?' he asked.
'He's fine,' I answered, neutrally. I didn't turn round to look at him again and I didn't point out that "Sebastian" is a beautiful name and "Seb" is a hideous one. Prick.
'Fucked him, yet?'
I turned to look at him and arched an eyebrow. He was vulgar, vile and mortifying. 'I don't really think that's any of your business,' I replied, in my iciest voice. 'From what I've heard, whatever you and he had is over. Luckily for "Seb."'
'You haven't fucked yet?' he said, with an incredulous laugh. 'We had sex the first time we ever partied together. He fucked me in Robbie Fitzpatrick's garden shed.'
I felt sick with jealousy. The image of the two of them going at it made me want to anti-bac my own brain, but I'd be damned before I let that show on my face in front of Joshua. 'How romantic,' was all I said. I tried to sound condescending; belittling. I'm pretty sure I succeeded.
'You must be doing something really wrong if he doesn't even want to have sex with you,' Josh answered, 'I mean, it's Seb, for fuck's sake. What's wrong with you?'
His eyes travelled up and down my body and I know, for a fact, that they hovered on my stomach. He was implying I was fat. I knew what that look meant. I'd seen it before. Joshua knew he was much better looking than I was and that was why he and Sebastian had had so much sex together. A part of my brain told me that Sebastian and I had only gone on one date and that there was therefore no earthly reason why we should have tumbled into bed together. Nor was there any good reason to ever take dating advice from someone like Joshua Peterly. But, still, it bothered me and I knew what he was implying. Too fat, or too ugly, to fuck.
I felt my hands start to shake and I clutched them together behind my back, clasping down hard on them until they held still. Dignity. Dignity. Dignity. Do not freak out.
'I don't know what's "wrong" with me, Joshua, but considering that I wasn't the one who threw myself at a guy in Robbie Fitzpatrick's laundry room and begged him to have sex with me, only to be rejected so that guy could run off into the night after somebody else, I would say you should be asking yourself that question. Not me.'
His face flushed with rage. It was only time I'd ever seen him look genuinely ugly and I was thrilled. 'Now, I'm going to go, because I'm afraid I'll catch herpes from your breath.' And with that, I turned on my heel and left the bathroom.
Sebastian and I held hands for the first time that night, the whole way through the movie. I think he remembers the night we slept together for the first time as a kind of anniversary; I remember that night. My hand started to get sweaty about fifteen minutes in and I was horrified, before he leant in and whispered in my ear, 'It's cute that you're nervous.' And laughed. He was teasing me again, but I relaxed and the clamminess went away. I tried not to look at him too often in the weird silvery half-light of the movie theatre, but once I did glance up. Out of the corner of his eye, he must've sensed the movement; he turned, too, to look at me and smiled. It was a cocky smile - confident and flirtatious. It was Sebastian's smile. I think I've seen few people in my life who were as completely at ease in their own skin as he was. He kind of inhabited how tall he was -- owned it - and owned his weird polo player-meets-surfer blond, chiselled looks. That was an inarticulate description of him. I'm sorry; he has that effect on me.
We made out again in my driveway after the movies and I felt the same instant chemistry and the same slight sense of breathlessness. I tried to put what Joshua had said, or implied, out of my head and I didn't tell Sebastian about it, because I knew that he'd go ape-shit over the whole thing. I didn't want him to get in trouble and I didn't want there to be any more gossip about the school's big ole gay love triangle. Claudia and Virginia had already stomped down two sets of rumours that I'd given Sebastian head at Robbie's party. The two of us ate lunch together on Thursday and went for a walk and dinner on Friday night. I tackled him about not seeming too keen on the movie idea back on Tuesday, 'That's because you can't talk in a movie theatre, baby,' he shot back, with a wink. My heart contracted with happiness and I bowed my head to hide the smile. We made out quite a bit, but his hands never strayed south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I tried to tell myself that he was just being respectful. After all, I'd been the one who'd practically called him a slut on Saturday night and I myself honestly didn't want things to move too fast -- in that way. Not yet, anyway. I was eighteen and still slightly nervous about the whole thing. But another part of me wondered why he hadn't at least tried and the things Joshua had said, or implied, niggled in the back of my head. Sometimes, they blared.
He came over to my house on Saturday, when my parents had driven up to London for the day. I wish I could remember what we talked about, but it was nothing specific. It just flowed, continually. It was so, so easy to talk to him. He'd found the perfect balance between jocular teasing, sentimentality and earnestness. At one point he started talking to me about a book he was reading on the Spanish Inquisition and why he didn't agree with half of what the historian was saying. It sounds snobby, maybe, but I was genuinely taken aback at how erudite he was and how smart, too. At times, looking at him, listening to him and smelling him, the words 'whole package' kept blaring in my head, like crazy little Vegas lights. 'I'm going to marry him,' I thought at one stage. Which was funny, for two reasons -- the first because I was right and didn't know it; the second because I'd properly known him for just over a week and was clearly mentally deranged to even think those words, just because he could talk about sixteenth century attitudes to heresy and racial diversity in full, cogent sentences.
We'd agreed to go down to the pub to meet Robbie and a few of the guys at eight-thirty. At eight, I bounced upstairs to get ready. Sebastian waited downstairs, before coming up when I called him. He stood in my doorway and leant against the frame. 'I'd just like to point out that I didn't come up here while you were half naked and try to molest you,' he joked. 'I think that deserves a blowjob or something, Rory.'
I turned to look at him over my shoulder, dabbing on some cologne, and laughed. 'Yeah, I'll get right on that, rapey.'
He came up behind me and snaked his hands around my waist from behind, which meant that it was time for me to breathe in. 'You know,' he said, in my ear, 'if he wasn't such a good friend, I'd be trying to persuade you not to go to the pub tonight so we could stay in.' He kissed my neck and I prayed in my head that I wouldn't immediately have an orgasm, or breathe out. Both would result in mortification. A tiny bit of his tongue slipped out from between his lips and grazed my neck. Ordinarily, I know I'd have shuddered with desire but I was holding myself so rigid, no pun intended, so that I wouldn't breathe out and let him feel my stomach.
'Are you okay?' he asked, pulling away slightly but keeping his hands where they were.
'Yeah, yeah,' I said, airily. I felt his arms start to loosen, in momentary uncertainty.
'Am I... eh.... am I being too pervy, or something, Rory?' His arms were still contracting in and out slightly, as if he didn't quite know what to do. I hated myself. A crashing great big tidal wave of self-loathing came out of nowhere and broke all over my head. I shouldn't make him feel like this. I spun round to face him and stroked his face. I don't know why I did it, but he looked upset and embarrassed. I'd never seen him like that.
'No!' I said, sincerely. 'No, you're not. Not at all. I don't think you're slutty or pervy, at all.'
'Well, that's not true,' he said, 'If you remember what you said on Saturday night.'
'I was angry, Sebastian. Honestly, I truly, deeply, genuinely, one hundred percent don't think that you're pervy or promiscuous or weird or annoying or anything. I don't think bad things of you.'
A shy, pleased smile lit up his face and he kissed me. 'I don't think bad things of you, either.'
I nuzzled into him and felt that he had a semi. 'Sorry,' he said.
'Don't be,' I giggled. 'Slut.'
'That's me. You've got a slutty-ass boyfriend, big guy.'
I jolted and looked up at him. 'Have I?'
'I mean, if you want. Wait, fuck it -- that was lame. "If you want." Lame. Wait. Will you ... be my boyfriend? Officially, exclusively, just us -- all that. Will you? ... Please.' He kissed me again and I nodded. 'Yes,' I said. My voice sounded soft and a little breathless. Evidently, the question meant a lot more to me than even I'd realised. He looked into my eyes and, for one second, I didn't think or care about anything or anyone else in the world.
'Thank you,' he sighed, before leaning into kiss me again, properly. His tongue gently parted my lips and I backed up against my dresser. The kiss turned passionate, quickly; there was no gap between us and I felt myself get hard, too. All thought had stopped; it was pure, feral instinct. I trailed my hand down to his ass. He pressed against me. I wanted this -- I wanted him. Somehow. Anyhow. His hand began to press up and under my sweater and the moment stopped. Reality came back and I pushed him away the moment I realised his fingers were on my stomach.
'What?' he asked, breathless and clearly a little pissed.
'We'll be late,' I said, instinctively. I didn't look at him.
'Do you...' He stepped back in towards me, looking at me. Confusion was replaced by realisation. I'd forgotten he was smart. I'd forgotten he was observant. 'Rory, do you think you're fat?'
I still didn't look at him. I could hear the concern in his voice. He sounded like Robbie. 'I mean, I suppose everyone could stand to lose a few pounds,' I said nonchalantly. I tried to step past him. He stepped in front of me.
'No. They couldn't. And you, specifically, couldn't.'
I looked at him, mockingly, pretending to think it was all a joke. He didn't play along.
'I'm serious,' he said, firmly. 'You're thin, Rory. You're lovely. There's no fat anywhere on you. Rory, listen to me.' He pressed me up against the dresser and I felt intimidated by him. Intimidated, dominated, aroused. 'Rory, fucking look at me.'
I looked back at him again and his eyes had that look I'd come to know, hate and love in Robbie -- concern, anger and love, all at the same time. Sebastian kept pressing until I was backed into the dresser again and his body -- that solid wall of muscle had me completely trapped. He pulled both my hands down in front of me, clasped them with one of his, and then put his other hand back up under my top. I couldn't recoil because I had no room to manoeuvre. I couldn't struggle, because he had my hands clasped. I just had to stand there and let him do what he wanted. He held his palm down, firmly, against the bare skin of my stomach and I felt myself gasp. I was breathing in, desperately, but I couldn't do it for much longer.
To my fury, two streams of tears poured out of my eyes and ran right down my face. He kept holding his hand there and eventually, I breathed out.
'See?' he said, softly. 'Nothing there. No real change. No fat. Nothing.'
Two more streams came out of the eyes and down my face. He let go of my hands and took his own away from my stomach. He leant down and in towards me. He kissed the tears. His hands came up and he wiped them away properly.
'I'm sorry,' I whispered, humiliated beyond my wildest nightmares. 'I'm so sorry.'
'For what?' he said, his lips against my cheek. 'Feelings?'
'This,' I gestured, helplessly. 'It's so embarrassing.'
'It's just us, Rory. Just you and me,' he kissed my neck. 'You're so beautiful and even if you weren't, I'd feel this way.' He kissed my neck again and again. I put my arms around him and we pressed together again. He held me and I forced myself to breathe, as if there was no stomach and no-one there to impress.
'That's it,' he whispered, softly. 'Just breathe.'
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