Table For Two

18 - Harvey

 Hi, I would like to order a pity party for one please?

I should have said something to Ali by now and I can fully admit that but why it took Quinn blurting it out in the restaurant and in front of Ali who was our waiter, to admit this is beyond me. And then finding that they only knew this information because Erika had told them what they suspected but hadn't fully stressed the need to keep it on the down low. Yeah I think I should avoid that restaurant seeing as how nothing good ever happens to me while I'm in there.

Quinn apologises in their way since they were oblivious to the necessity for discretion and honestly Erika was practically begging for forgiveness and I did give her some shit for talking about me and who I like behind my back. Probably will keep her out of what I'm feeling in the future. I thought I'd learned my lesson about trusting people. Apparently not.

The meal was eaten quickly and we paid out just as fast because I really do not want to be here any longer than necessary. I tried texting Ali and hoping that he would check his phone before we left but I guess he was a little too freaked to do so. Can't say I blame him. He just finds out that the guy he's been spending all this time with has the hots for him. Why didn't I actually just tell him before now. But then... When would I have had the opportunity?

It's not like when we hang out we really have in-depth conversations. We barely make it beyond small talk and teasing and talking about things happening at uni and on our courses. Ali will occasionally mention work, or Dee, or his dog Athena. I might mention stuff about films coming out or something funny that happened in the gym. Neither of us are particularly open about things outside of that. Those things are comfortable. Those things are safe. I guess in a way it shouldn't be a surprise to me that we haven't spoken about much else. It's not like we are close. But I guess I thought we were at least closer. More fool me.

I spend that night not sleeping all that much. I wait for Ali to reply and when he doesn't I try and get some rest but it is hard to come by. As the week wears on and classes slip by like sand in an hourglass. I see Ali on campus but we don't wave or even incline our heads in acknowledgement of the other's existence. We pass like ships in the night like we're total strangers. I feel sad at first. Then by Wednesday it has transformed into irritation. By the time it hits Friday and I'm waiting, apparently in vain, for Ali to show up I am confused and actually angry. Why is he being like this? Am I so bad for having a crush on him? Is that awful?

He was right. Men are shit.

I leave the SU and head home. I can feel an old and all too familiar feeling beginning to burn through my gut. That urge to lash out at something from back when things were confusing and I felt so much hatred for who I was because I was a boy who thought about kissing boys and so many people were always saying that it was wrong and disgusting. The same feeling I used to bottle up and swallow with the rest of all the bad stuff. I hadn't been to the gym in a while. That's usually how I process things like this; smacking into a heavy bag. And right now I feel like I could punch through a wall. Yeah... I know how unhealthy that sounds but I can already feel my nails digging into my palms as I white knuckle it on the walk down to the bus stop.

I'm not sure how I make it back to the flat without spinning out but I do. I immediately change into gym gear and head out, earphones in and blaring and a face like a storm front so no one tries to talk to me. The moment I'm in the air conditioned sanctuary of the gym, I do a warm up on the treadmill before setting down with the heavy bag, throwing punches like I'm trying to break the leather skin of it and watch the sand come pouring out onto the floor. I do notice some of the guys doing weight training suddenly look a little sheepish. I could hear them dropping the barbell with a crash on the floor over my workout playlist which honestly is just rude at the best of times, let alone today. It appears that me smacking the crap out of the bag is somehow louder. That gives me a smidge of satisfaction.

I'm in there, working the bag over for a good hour or more before hitting the rowing machine for so long that when I finally look outside, it's getting dark. I check my phone and it's nearly seven in the evening. I get up and stretch out, warming down before I grab my stuff and head home to shower. I've never been a fan of public changing rooms so I always go back home to get refreshed.

I keep the shower furnace hot when I get in and just hang my head, letting my hair just fall forward beneath the torrent of near-scalding water and form a curtain. I sigh and close my eyes. I don't want to think that I've fucked up a friendship or that Ali is the sort of guy that would just retreat from a friendship like that without at least talking to me first and trying to sort things out. But what do I know? I don't have a clue how any of this is supposed to function - navigating being friends with other people like me. So far, I've not exactly gotten top marks in that regard. Maybe I shouldn't try to make friends.

I stay in the shower for about a half an hour. Most of that is spent just standing there mulling over all the stuff I couldn't process with my fists. Little nagging things telling me I'm not good enough. When I get out and dry off, I notice my phone screen lights up. I kind of ignore it for now and just focus on getting dry and putting on a movie on Netflix. Nothing particularly taxing or intellectual. Just one of the Underworld movies. Kate Beckinsale is stunning and watching her kick ass is great... I might be gay but I'm not blind. I make sure I take my meds and then clamber into bed.

Once I'm nestled down in bed at the perfect angle where I can watch the TV on my desk and fall asleep without doing my neck in, I check my phone. There's notifications from everywhere and group chats but it all gets ignored when I see a message from Ali. I'm not sure I even want to open it at first. My thumb just hovers over the message indecisively and I just wonder whether I want to see his rejection or whatever kind of nasty thing he might have said. But then... I just think about him, for just a moment. The way his laugh sounds and how his eyes shine in the sun and I open it.

Hey...

I'm sorry for last week. I know I should have spoken to you sooner. I was being an asshole. Can we talk? Neutral ground somewhere... maybe Vicky Park? Are you free tomorrow?

A

I'm... I don't know how to feel about that. He apologised, sure but it feels a little... dry? I guess? Maybe that's why he wants to actually see me again? To apologise in person as well? Do I even have to give him the opportunity? I mean... no, I don't but I also know I'm better than being that petty. He admitted he was wrong about how he handled things. I should give him the chance to at least talk and then... we go from there. I text back.

Hey.

Yeah. Okay. Around lunchtime?

H

Okay maybe that was a little short of me and I could have probably said more but I'm trying to refrain from sending a complete essay of unnecessary emotion for him to deal with which is probably just going to make him run for the hills and never come back... not that I could blame him. Who would want to deal with all my shit on top of their own?

I tuck my phone under a pillow and settle back down to watch the film. I think about Ali and can't stop a little smile starting to tug at the corner of my mouth.