Loveless(48)

We were both thinking that I probably just didn’t like men.

I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t disagree.

I wanted to tell Pip that I didn’t feel sure about anything, and I felt so weird all the time, to the point that I hated myself, being a kid who knew all about sexuality from the internet but couldn’t even vaguely work out what I was, couldn’t even come up with a ballpark estimate, when everyone else seemed to find it so, so easy. Or if they didn’t find it easy, they got through the hard bit at school, and by the time they were my age, they were already kissing and having sex and falling in love as much as they wanted.

All I could manage to say was: ‘I don’t really know how I feel.’

Pip could tell I wasn’t saying everything that was in my head. She could always tell.

She grabbed my hand and held it.

‘That’s OK, my guy,’ she said. ‘That’s fine.’

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘I’m … shit at explaining it. It sounds fake.’

‘I’m here to talk whenever you want, man.’

‘OK.’

She pulled me into a side hug, my face pressing against her collar. ‘Date Jason for a bit if you want. Just … don’t hurt him, OK? He acts all calm and collected, but he’s really sensitive after all that shit with Aimee.’

‘I know. I won’t.’ I lifted my head. ‘You’re really OK with it?’

Her smile was forced and pained, and it nearly broke my heart.

‘Of course. I love you.’

‘Love you too.’





I decided to leave after that. Pip kept getting dragged into conversations with people I didn’t know, and I didn’t have any energy left to talk to new people. Jess was busy mingling, and Sunil was nowhere to be seen.

I checked my phone. It was only twenty past ten. I wondered whether Jason was OK.

He was probably still sitting in his room, all alone, wondering whether I’d really had a headache or I just didn’t like him.

I didn’t want to think about love any more.

As I walked out of the restaurant and down the narrow stairway, I heard a pair of hushed voices at the bottom. I stopped, realising that one of the voices belonged to Sunil.

‘I’m the president now,’ he was saying, ‘and if that pisses you off so much, you don’t have to come to the society events any more.’

‘What, now you’re trying to kick me out?’ said the second voice. ‘Classic. I shouldn’t be surprised by this point.’

‘And now you’re trying to pick a fight again.’ Sunil let out a long sigh. ‘Don’t you ever get tired, Lloyd? Because I do.’

‘It’s my right to voice my concerns about the society. You’ve changed all the events we do and now you’re letting in way too many people!’

‘Letting in too many – what planet are you on?’

‘I saw the fucking flyers you were handing out at the Freshers’ Fair! Asexual and bigender and whatever. You’re just gonna let in anyone who thinks they’re some made-up internet identity?’

There was a short silence, and then Sunil spoke again, his voice hardened.

‘You know what, Lloyd? Yes. Yes, I am. Because Pride Soc is inclusive, and open, and loving, and not run by you any more. And because there are still sad little cis gays like you who seem to take other queers’ mere existence as a threat to your civil rights, even freshers who are showing up here for the first time – some of them likely never having been to a queer event in their whole lives – just trying to find somewhere they can relax and be themselves. And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Lloyd, because I know you don’t recognise any pride flag that isn’t the fucking rainbow, but I actually happen to be one of those made-up internet identities. And guess what? I’m the president. So get the fuck out of my formal.’

I heard the sound of footsteps moving away and the swing of the door opening and closing.

I waited a moment, but there was no way to pretend I hadn’t heard that conversation, so I descended the steps. Sunil looked up as I approached. He was leaning against the wall, fingers tightly clenching his upper arms.

‘Oh, Georgia,’ he said, forcing a smile, but I must have looked guilty because he immediately said, ‘Ah. You heard some of that.’

‘Sorry,’ I said as I reached the bottom step. ‘Are you OK? Do you …’ I struggled to think of a way I could help. ‘Do you want a drink or something?’

Sunil chuckled. ‘You’re sweet. I’m OK.’

‘He … sounded like a … disgusting person.’

‘Yes. He very much is. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t be a bigot.’

‘I think you pretty much annihilated him, though.’

He laughed again. ‘Thanks.’ He unfolded his arms. ‘You heading home?’

‘Yeah. It’s been really nice.’

‘Good. Great. You’re welcome to come along any time.’

‘Thank you. And … thanks for what you said to Pip about … you know, why I was here.’

He shrugged. ‘No biggie.’

‘You don’t have to be in our play.’