Give Yourself Away (13 page)

“I wanted to say sorry,” March said.

“You already did.”

“Will you come out for a meal with me?” he blurted.

Caleb’s jaw twitched. “What reason do you have to want to be my friend now I’ve served my purpose? Or do you want to maintain the façade a little longer just to make sure everyone’s convinced?”

March frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Your suspension. Jemima. The hand-holding.”

Oh fuck.
“How do you know about that?”

“A couple of guys who’d seen us climbing told me all about it.”

“She lied. She went to see my head of department and admitted she lied. I’m no longer suspended.”

“Congratulations.”

Oh fuck, this was not going right. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”

“I don’t think so,” Caleb said. “The sharp, pointy end did its job. When did you decide to use me? The day I turned up at your house? You must have thought your dreams had come true when I appeared out of nowhere with my fucking tongue hanging out. You pretended to like me, took me climbing so people would see us together, then held my hand knowing someone would tell Jemima. Did I get any of that wrong?”

“All of it. Every fucking word, except I did hurt you and that was never my intention.”

A muscle twitched in Caleb’s cheek. “Idiot that I am, I felt sorry for you when you threw up because I knew coming out was a big deal for you. I was proud of you for trying and you’re not even fucking gay. You used me and it was an unkind thing to do. You made me happy and now you’ve spoiled it.”

“I didn’t use you, not intentionally. I didn’t know there’d be someone crossing the quad who knew me. How the fuck could I know that?” His voice grew louder. “If I’d wanted to make a point, wouldn’t I have taken your hand? I had to ask you to hold mine because I was too chickenshit to make the first move. And I
am
…gay. It wasn’t—isn’t—the coming out that’s the big deal for me.”

“Great hesitation. ‘And I
am
…gay.’ Maybe I need to remind you that you threw up.”

March sighed, his belligerence fading. “Yeah, I did. And since just now was the first time I ever said out loud that I’m gay when there was someone other than me in the room, throwing up again is a possibility.”

He’d hoped for a smile, but Caleb stood staring at him.

“Why didn’t you tell your head of department you weren’t interested in women?” Caleb asked. “She wouldn’t have suspended you.”

“I couldn’t make the words come out. It serves me right—the whole suspension thing—but I’m sorry you got caught up in it. Can we start again? I need help. I need you to help me.” He took a deep breath. “Come for a meal with me. Let me show you I’m not a complete arsehole.”

That did make Caleb smile, if only briefly. “You’re asking me out on a date?”

March’s throat closed up.
Yeah, I am.
He nodded.

“You could have told me you were suspended.”

“Can you imagine the conversation? By the way, I got accused of asking a woman for a blowjob in exchange for raising her grade. Not a way to impress someone you fancy.”
Oh God, I just told him I fancied him.
“I’ve not told you a single lie since I met you.”
I don’t think.

“If we go for a meal, you promise not to throw up?”

March let out a choked laugh. “I’ll try.”

Caleb chewed his lip. “Okay.”

March let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Thank you.”

“But I want to make it clear I’m not someone you can just experiment on, a way of trying out your sexuality. I won’t be a guy you can persuade to suck you off just so you can decide if you like it. You have to want more than that.”

“I do want more than that.” Though his dick had already started to swell at the idea of Caleb’s lips around it and his brain was asking him what the fuck he was doing.

“Hmm.” Caleb didn’t look convinced and March couldn’t blame him.

“Seven, at the Thai place, okay?” March asked.

Caleb nodded and March walked away determined not to mess up this second chance. He was done with mourning. It was time to move forward.

Chapter Thirteen

Liam pressed the end of the cigarette against Tye’s lower back, and Tye screamed.
He wrenched out of Liam’s hold and flung himself away, shaking.

“Eat the fucking food,” Liam snapped.

Tye fought not to cry. “Tell me where Baxter is.”

“I already told you. He ran away. Made a better job of it than you. Now eat.”

Tye desperately wanted the burger and chips. The smell made his mouth water, but not eating was his only weapon. “Prove to me Baxter’s all right. It’ll be in the papers or on the news saying he escaped. When you show me he’s okay, then I’ll eat.”

Liam stormed out, leaving the food.

Tye’s stomach growled. His back stung. Before he could reach for a chip, he picked up the tray, broke up the burger and flushed everything down the toilet.
Please be all right, Baxter.
The plea repeated in his head. For the last two days Tye had kept hoping the police would suddenly appear at the door. He just had to be patient.

But Liam had turned out not to look anything like the guy they’d watched fishing. The scraggly blond hair was a wig covering a short, dark buzz cut. He’d peeled off the scar in front of Tye and sniggered. The guy Baxter would be telling the police about was not this guy. Liam seemed bigger, stronger, more…together.

Tye curled up naked under the duvet. He’d been unaware of being brought here, had no idea how long the journey had taken or where he was. Liam had reached into the sleeping bag, pressed a cloth over his face, and Tye had woken in this big room with no windows, lying in a proper bed with pillows and a warm duvet. Two doors barred his exit. One was a metal gate, locked with a key; behind that was a wooden door locked with a keypad.

At the bottom of the metal barrier was an opening for Liam to push in trays of food. When Tye hadn’t touched them, Liam tried to force him to eat. Tye shifted in discomfort as the duvet rubbed the burn on his back.

The floor had been boarded with something that looked like wood but wasn’t and the walls were bare brick painted white. The paint smelled new. There was a separate bathroom with a shower and toilet, but no door. The shower and toilet looked new too. Maybe when Liam hadn’t been watching them at the other house, he’d been here, painting, blocking off windows, getting it ready. The idea that he’d planned this so carefully sat like a bag of sand on Tye’s chest.

There was a camera high up in every corner, so Liam could see him use the toilet, watch him sleep. Tye thought about finding a way to climb up and smear dirt or food over the lens, but Liam would just clean it off and punish him, burn him with a cigarette or make him suck… Liam hadn’t done anything like that yet, not since… It was only a matter of time.

He closed his eyes and pictured Baxter free. Baxter would tell the police such small details they’d catch Liam before it was too late, before he…did stuff. The description might be wrong but they had the license plate of the van. Baxter wouldn’t give up on him. Tye curled up in the bed, making himself as small as he could, but he knew the only place he could hide was in his head.

Tye continued to refuse to eat.

Then Liam brought in the newspaper cutting and pulverized Tye’s hope to dust.

House where the boys were held destroyed in fire… Frames of bikes found in cellar… Human remains undergoing tests.

Tye felt like his heart was about to explode and he blacked out.

* * *

March arrived early at the restaurant because he’d worried about being late, only to find Caleb pacing outside.

“I’m not late, am I?” March wondered if he had the time wrong.

“No. I’m always too early. Plus I’m hungry.”

March couldn’t remember the last time he’d had Thai food. Oh yeah, he could. With Annabel. He tried to put the memory out of his head. More guilt to pile on the mountain. It was a wonder he could still walk with that weight on his shoulders.

He and Caleb ordered the same thing, Thai green curry.

“Have you ever been to Thailand?” March asked.

“No, have you?”

“Once in my teens.” When his mother and stepfather had thought going on holiday would cheer him up. They’d been wrong. “If I had the money, I think I’d just travel all the time, move from place to place, experience something different every day. No ties, no roots, complete freedom.”

“And not have a permanent home?” Caleb asked.

“No.” He saw his answer had disappointed Caleb and wondered why.

“I haven’t even been across the Channel,” Caleb said.

“Not even with school?”

“I was homeschooled in my teens.”

“That’s why you don’t have any qualifications? You didn’t sit any exams?” March didn’t try to hide his surprise.

“No.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not anymore.” Caleb shrugged. “It did once. It seems crazy now to think, while most kids hated taking exams, I wished I could. If you’ve got a doctorate, I guess you have a string of qualifications.”

“Topped by my cycling proficiency.”

Caleb laughed.

The food arrived and they tucked in. Caleb’s phone buzzed and he winced his apology. “Sorry, I meant to turn it off. Do you mind if I check if it’s important?”

“Go ahead.”

Caleb chewed his lip as he read. He tapped out a response, then switched the phone off. “A friend of mine letting me know I’m a dick.” He sighed. “My ex was stabbed and apparently I’ve not shown sufficient compassion.”

“Stabbed?” March wanted to ask if he should be worried but the words wouldn’t come out.

Caleb looked across the table at him. “You come with issues. I do too. Still interested?”

March brushed his foot against Caleb’s calf.

“I’ll assume that was deliberate and you couldn’t make yourself say yes.”

March rubbed his calf again.

Caleb smiled and then gave a heavy sigh. “Mike, my ex, the former porn star, came out of retirement at a party he didn’t expect me to attend. Cheating is bad enough, but to do it so publicly… I packed up my stuff and went to sleep on a friend’s couch. Mike turned up drunk, possibly high, wanting me back. I drove him home, but as far as I was concerned it was over.

“I told you he got a bit physical. Well, he locked me in the bathroom and fell asleep on the other side of the door. But someone got into the house and stabbed him. Mike managed to let me out, or maybe the guy who stabbed him unblocked the door. I called the emergency services and after I’d spent a difficult few hours as the prime suspect, Mike was eventually able to tell them I wasn’t the one.

“I still left him and apparently that makes me a dick.”

March had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Bloody hell. When you said issues… Is he okay?”

“Out of the hospital and staying with the friend who also thinks I’m a selfish wanker. I suspect Mike’s pissed off it was me who did the dumping, though his parting shot in front of the friend was to dump me. I damaged his ego and no one’s allowed to touch that—or his hair. But I don’t let people mess me around. Not now I’m big enough to stand up for myself.”

March twisted the napkin on his lap. Caleb was stronger than he’d thought and March liked that. He had a feeling the guy would need to be strong to handle him. He looked across the table. Caleb smiled and March’s stomach lurched.

“I don’t want to mess you around,” March said. “But can you be patient with me?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not going to throw up every time we hold hands.”

March felt his cheeks heat. He managed to grin and say, “Obviously that was a sudden-onset virus.”

Caleb almost choked on his mouthful of curry. “Obviously. Have you really never told anyone you at least thought you might be gay? Your parents? Siblings? You’ve never hinted to anyone? No one has ever guessed?”

March wondered if his friend had— He shook his head. “Not until you. Why did you…? What made you…? Shit, I can’t even finish a sentence. Do I look gay to someone who is gay?”

Caleb shook his head. “You don’t look gay. I wasn’t sure. There was something about the way you checked me out on the boat that made me wonder. I hoped but I didn’t know for certain. Maybe you’re bi?”

“I don’t think I am,” March said quickly.

“You said that rather fast. And you included the word ‘think’.”

“And the word ‘don’t’.”

“You’ve kissed women? Had sex with them?” Caleb asked.

“Yes.”
Though not many.
“Have you?”

Caleb shook his head. “Never. So what didn’t you like about sex with women?”

March sighed. “It felt as if there was something missing. After you and I kissed, I knew there’d been something missing. I’ve never felt like that before.” Not for a long time and it hadn’t been after a kiss. It hadn’t been after anything like that.

“Which is why you threw me out the door.”

“Which is why I let you in again.”

Caleb chuckled. “So we both had firsts yesterday. I freaked out on a climbing wall and almost threw up. You freaked out holding hands and you did throw up. I think I won round one.”

“Are you ever going to let me forget that?”

“No, but the point is—we held hands and it was nice. The climbing—not so nice.”

“Damned with faint praise. The hand-holding was only nice?”

“Very nice.”

“That’s better.”

They tussled about the bill and eventually split it. March had wanted to pay but he didn’t want to push it. He also didn’t want the evening to end.

When they left the restaurant, March reached for Caleb’s hand. Caleb’s warm fingers closed around his and although March felt a surge of anxiety, he didn’t want to throw up and he didn’t let go.

“Okay?” Caleb asked. “Virus not attacking again?”

March squeezed his fingers. “Want to walk down to the beach?”

“Sure.”

“How old were you when you decided you wanted to be a ballet dancer?” March asked.

“Seven. I saw this guy on the TV who could do such amazing things with his body, leap so high, almost fly. He looked so graceful and I thought about how when I jumped, I landed like a rock. I wanted to float like a feather, like him. But my dad already gave me a hard time because I didn’t want to do the things he expected me to, like football and rugby. He’d have beaten me harder if he thought I wanted to dance. I couldn’t even sneak off to do it. There was no money for lessons or shoes. It was just a dream.”

“He hit you?”

Caleb nodded. “He drank. Lashed out when he didn’t get what he wanted, when he wanted it.”

“When I was a kid, I had a friend whose father hit him. Your mother didn’t stop him? You didn’t tell your teacher?”

“I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my best friend.”

March huffed. “My friend didn’t tell me either, but I knew. I saw the bruises.”

“Yeah well, maybe my friend guessed. He didn’t say anything. My father hit my mother as well, and she begged me to keep quiet. She said he’d go to prison. I was too young to realize she was more worried about losing him than she was about losing me.” Caleb gave a short laugh. “And I wanted us to be a happy family. That was all I wanted.”

Now March understood why Caleb clung to the idea of a home to return to. As bad as Caleb’s childhood had been, he still held on to the idea of a family who loved him.

“Did your parents and friends know you were gay when you were a kid?” March asked.

Caleb took a deep breath. “My parents—yeah, they knew I was different. I think that was part of why my dad hit me, but they never discussed it with me. Not that there was anything to discuss. I knew I was gay. Nothing they said would change that. Things were sort of okay at school until I was about ten. It was only when I went to secondary school that life grew really bad.

“I was picked on and called names, tripped up when we did games. They threw my clothes into the showers, trampled my homework into the grass, stuff like that. I was small and skinny and flinched at everything. In the mornings I used to leave it until the last minute to go into the playground and I stayed as late as I could at the end of the day.

“Then a new boy arrived and stood up for me. He was the best thing that had ever happened in my entire life. I loved him and he died.”

“Oh crap. I’m sorry.” March was amazed Caleb had been so sure he was gay from such an early age. But then hadn’t he been sure too and just chosen to hide the way he felt? How strange that he’d also had a friend he’d lost, a friend he’d loved.

“While I’m on the pity jag,” Caleb said, “my parents died when I was in my teens. My mum committed suicide. My dad died in a car crash.”

Christ. Something else we have in common.
“Who brought you up?”

“Someone I didn’t like.”

“Who knew you were gay?”

“Yeah, he knew.”

March frowned at Caleb’s clipped tone. He’d hit a nerve. “And he was the one who homeschooled you?”

“He had weird ideas. He didn’t believe in exams. I left as soon as I could.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“My mum is. My dad died in a car accident too. Mum married again. My stepfather’s French. He’s a good guy—kind and funny. He makes my mum happy. But what would make her really happy is if I were married and she had grandkids to dote on. I’m an only child.”

They walked onto the beach and March’s shoes sank into the sand. He’d been lucky with both his dads. He felt sad Caleb hadn’t had a loving home.

“Having kids is a slight problem, though not impossible,” Caleb said. “Not sure I’d want them. The air-stealing anxiety every time they left the house. I’d panic until they came home. Christ, I’d want to keep them on reins until they were twenty—no, thirty. Wrap them in cotton wool, not let anything bad happen to them. I’d be a terrible parent.”

March laughed. “Sounds like you’d be a good one.”

“Well, my alcoholic dad showed me how to be a bad one.”

March’s shoes were filling with sand and he struggled to walk.

“Have you always lived around here?” Caleb asked.

“I moved to France when I was fifteen. Came back at eighteen to attend university in London and eventually ended up teaching here.”

March stopped to tip out the sand. Caleb laughed when he saw how much poured out from March’s shoes.