Micah Johnson Goes West (Get Out, #2)(60)

“You would have to be living under a rock not to know who you are.”

Micah’s mouth went dry—Todd had sounded so much like Paul there. But he put that thought out of his mind, even though he couldn’t help thinking of all his hook-ups, and how they had probably all kindly decided not to expose his charade to his face. It also made him grateful to realise that none of them had decided to sell him out to any media if they were interested. Which they most likely would have been, at any hint of a “gay scandal.” “Well, thanks for… well, you know.”

“What I’m more interested in is why you’re contacting me now,” Todd said. “You haven’t passed on an STD, have you?”

“No!” Micah cried, horrified. And remembered the pills back home. What a fucking hypocrite he was, to judge others who might be in that situation.

“Well, that’s a relief.” Todd grinned. “Shall we order coffee?”

“Don’t you want to know why I contacted you?”

“Coffee first,” Todd said. “I’m dying here.”

Micah followed him to the counter to order their drinks. He smirked as he thought Pikachu still suited Todd.

At least he didn’t seem to be a Dick.




“COFFEE” STRETCHED out into lunch, and when Todd finally had to leave for a shift at work Micah was disappointed and was pretty sure Todd was as well. Micah had told him a (somewhat expurgated) version of what had happened in the past month or so, and Todd had shared a few of his own tales of going off the rails when he first came out. Both were surprisingly nonjudgmental about their experiences, and although Micah didn’t think their first coffee together was suitable for explaining his recent scare, he knew he trusted Todd enough that he could the next time they saw each other.

But there he was, getting ahead of himself. They hadn’t even decided if there would be a next time yet.

Micah paid against Todd’s wishes, but Todd relented when he told him it was a thank you and an apology.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Todd said as they crossed the road to where he had parked his car. Micah had also insisted on walking him there. “Sounds like you’ve been going through some pretty heavy shit.”

“It’s all pretty banal shit, really. Nothing to justify being a knob to people. You’d think I’d learn by now.”

“You’re nineteen. I’m only a year older. I think we’re pretty much allowed to still get away with it occasionally.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to use that as an excuse anymore.”

A car raced past with a guy in the passenger seat hanging out the window. “Go Dockers!”

Micah flushed, as Todd burst out laughing. “That probably doesn’t help.”

“So embarrassing,” Micah muttered.

“Are we about to get mobbed?” Todd looked nervous at the surrounding people who had realised a star AFL player was in their midst.

Micah sighed. “Comes with the job.”

“Look, I’m gonna go. But it was really nice to catch up.”

Was that it? Everything was now so rushed; the crowd was advancing for their pound of flesh with a celebrity, and Todd was bolting. Probably couldn’t handle it—how did Simon handle it all with Declan?

His thoughts were interrupted as Todd’s lips mashed into his. Micah yelped slightly with pain, but that was forgotten as Todd alleviated the pressure and his kiss became gentler. Micah returned it, caught up in the moment, but before he could really start enjoying it Todd pulled away.

“Shall we do this again?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Micah said, knowing he sounded stunned.

A piece of paper was shoved into his pocket.

“Call me,” Todd said. “The more traditional way.”

And he jumped into his car, squealing away while Micah turned to address his fans, some who looked a little shocked by the very gay display of public affection before them.

Except a little girl who stepped forward, brandishing a notebook and a giant pen with a pink furry star topping it. “Can I please have your autograph?” she asked, very formally.

“Sure.” Micah knelt on the ground to get down to her level. “I like your pen.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, and smiled.

It was contagious.





From The Reach Out, 5 July 2016

Out and About With Jasper Brunswick

An Apology



I’M NOT one to refuse to admit I’m wrong. At least, not in the last year or so. It might take me a little longer to admit it than most people, but I will do so.

And I have an apology to make.

First, to Will Deanes and Micah Johnson. It was insensitive of me to compare you in a time where tact and empathy was needed above anything else. Although I still stand by the parallels I was trying to make between your careers, I didn’t do it in the best possible way. I was rushing to meet a deadline, and didn’t check the tone of the piece and the hurt it may have caused, especially when you, Will, needed your mind focused on more important things. Not that I’d even suggest my little column would dare have such an impact upon you, but it wouldn’t have helped.

And finally, to Declan Tyler. I took advantage of our mutual friendship to ask you about Will and then printed something you meant in the context of a normal conversation between friends—or, partners of friends. Please know I will not do that again.