Second Chance(19)

Jack lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before letting the smoke out with a blissful sigh. “That’s better. I know it’s a horrible habit, and I’m working on it. Down to a couple a day now, which is a big improvement on twenty. When did you give up?”

“When I got pregnant with Cass. Although I’ve been known to indulge once in a blue moon if I’m feeling weak.” Nate was tempted now. Being here with Jack brought back so many memories. They used to smoke out of Jack’s window, and would burn incense to cover the smell. As the smoke from Jack’s cigarette drifted into the room, the scent made Nate crave it. “Can I have a drag of yours?”

“You sure? I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Here you go then.”

Nate put the cigarette to his lips and drew the bitter smoke into his lungs. His throat tickled and he grimaced, eyes watering with the effort of not coughing as he let the lungful of smoke out slowly.

“You all right there?” Jack asked, amused.

“Yeah.” Nate cleared his throat and took another, more cautious, puff. As the nicotine hit he felt lightheaded and a little dizzy. He passed it back to Jack. “Thanks.”

Jack took a few more drags before offering it to Nate again, and they passed it back and forth between them till it was burned down.

“I’d better leave the window open for a while to get the smell out.” Jack yawned. “Sorry. These meds make me so sleepy.” He sat back on the bed.

“Do you want me to go?” Nate asked.

“No. Not at all.” Jack reached for his phone and patted the space beside him. “Come here and help me make a playlist of stuff for us to listen to. Led Zep is great but I want a proper trip down memory lane.”

They scrolled through Spotify, searching for bands or artists they’d loved, and adding their favourites. They started with Pink Floyd, then added songs by The Cure, The Smiths, David Bowie, Billy Bragg, Lloyd Cole and the Commotions, Guns N’ Roses…. As each new track came on Nate was transported back to times they’d listened to them. So many songs had memories attached to them: parties, other people from school, and particular times in his life when he’d listened to a song over and over, searching for meaning in the words that applied to him. Jack was the common thread in all those memories, a constant in Nate’s teenage years.

They reminisced together, amazed by how familiar the songs were, how they could sing along almost word perfect even after all this time.

Jack pulled the blanket up over them, and Nate snuggled closer instinctively. The window was still open and the room was cold, but neither of them was motivated to close it. Jack yawned again and leaned his head on Nate’s shoulder, the weight of it solid and warm, and it made Nate’s chest ache with the urge to put his arms around Jack and hold him as they lay listening to “Lovesong” by The Cure.

They’d always been very tactile with each other as teens, cuddling up together when they’d shared a bed, and Nate had simultaneously loved and hated it. Sharing a bed with Jack had been the worst kind of torture when it was so lovely, but never enough. He felt the same now, his body craving more while he fought a useless battle with his mind, trying not to want the things he wanted.

Jack’s breathing was slow and steady and Nate wondered whether he was falling asleep. He should probably get up and leave soon. They’d been listening to music for ages and it must be getting late.

“Why did you stop being my friend?” Jack asked suddenly. His voice was quiet but the words dropped like bombs. Because how could Nate give Jack an honest answer without giving up the secret he’d held close for so long?

“It wasn’t a conscious decision. We drifted apart. It happens, right?” Nate didn’t sound convincing, even to himself. He hated lying, but he wasn’t ready to tell Jack the truth.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow now, so Nate couldn’t avoid his gaze. Jack’s brow was furrowed as though he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“It doesn’t always happen. I know other people who are still in touch with friends from school. And I tried to keep up contact. I wrote to you, tried to arrange to meet you when we both came home from uni in the holidays. But you were always too busy, or didn’t return my calls, and you stopped replying to my letters. That hurt, Nate. I was really gutted about losing you as a friend.”

Jack’s brutal honesty made Nate feel like an arsehole.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to find any better words. He’d stopped replying to Jack’s letters when Jack had got his first boyfriend. Jack had been so excited, so full of joy at his sexual awakening, at falling in love, and being loved back. It had been unbearable for Nate to read. He’d wanted to be happy for Jack, but it was impossible when he was so heartbroken for himself.

Jack studied Nate’s face, still searching for meaning. “Were you… jealous?”

Fuck. Maybe Jack wasn’t as oblivious now as he’d been in the old days.

Nate hated the word jealous. It was an ugly word, laden with pettiness. It seemed inadequate for the complicated feelings that Nate had lived with during his friendship with Jack. Unable to bear the weight of Jack’s gaze he rolled away, curling onto his side, and covering his face with his hands. “Ugh. I don’t want to have this conversation.”