I Hate Summer (7 page)

“I dunno, maybe he’s in denial,” my sister said eventually, and I could tell I’d won because even she didn’t sound very convinced by that explanation.

“Trystan Jackson doesn’t really strike me as the kind of guy who’s second-guessed himself a day in his life.”

Jorja gave a bemused shrug. “Ye have a point, but seriously, he’s still snuggling ye, right?”

I nodded.

“So just try something out.” A wicked smile curled against the edges of her lips and she fixed her blue eyes on me in a way I knew meant trouble. “I bet ye my Yorkshire next time yer home.”

“A Yorkshire pudding bet?” I mocked with a grin. “Yer really serious. But for something like this, surely it should be the next
two
Sundays?”

“Hmm.” She paused to consider.

I feel I should explain: our mum made the best Yorkshire puddings, but she only ever made enough for one each. The chance for two was a rare treat, and Yorkshire pudding bets were reserved for only the most serious of all situations: Jorja’s date to her first school dance; me coming out to my parents. I was hoping the threat of potentially being Yorkshire pudding-less for two weeks in a row would be enough to put Jorja off the bet. Because not telling my sister was one thing, but lying to her was something else completely. If she made the bet, she would ask me if anything had happened. It already had, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it from her.

“Deal. Ye try something, and if he goes along, I get yer Yorkshire for two Sundays.” I gave an internal groan as my plan backfired. “If he doesn’t, ye get mine.”

I reluctantly held out my hand; there was still a way out. I could tell her I hadn’t tried anything, which technically wouldn’t be a lie—Trystan had started it, after all.

A hint of a smile plucked at one side of her face and she wrapped her fingers around mine before I could pull away. “If ye chicken out, I get yers anyway.”

I tried to pull my hand out of her grip, but she held firm, giggling wolfishly as I tried to struggle. But I knew it was too late.

“That’s cheating,” I grumbled.

“We shook on it. Those’re the rules!” she chimed as she stuck her tongue out at me.

“Seriously?” I groaned as she dropped my hand, but I knew that no amount of arguing in the world would change her mind now. It was my fault for letting my guard down and for upping the bet in the first place. Yeah, I know we’re both adults. You telling me you never revert to being a kid with your family?

“What do you look so happy about?” Vince asked Jorja as he and his brothers came over to join us around the stove.

“Nothing.” Jorja’s grin betrayed her guilt as she poked the food and shouted over for the parents to join us.

“You look like someone just told you Santa isn’t real.” Trystan chuckled as he sat down next to me. Josh sat on my other side, and I met Jorja’s smirk with an unamused look. I think I’d had less attention in gay bars.

“Ye guys finish making a spectacle of yerselves?” I shot back as I let my gaze drop pointedly to Trystan’s bare chest. “Yer audience must o’ already left.”

“Just keeping the ladies amused while they cook,” Trystan said.

“Don’t include me in your perverted faggot tendencies!” Vince muttered from the other side of the stove. He shot Jorja a quick sideways glance and pulled his shirt back on.

The rest of us rolled our eyes at him, and Josh shifted slightly uncomfortably on my other side. He’d already put his top back on.

T
HE
FOOD
wasn’t amazing, but then we weren’t out here for five-star cuisine. When we’d all finished, we moved over to a stone-lined area set aside for fires. Jerry lit it tonight, and we all dropped to the grass in a big circle to admire the flames as they licked up the wood we’d brought out here especially. Around us, the blue and yellow evening was falling to twilight as we chatted and drank the beer and wine we’d brought out just for this evening. The parents gravitated to one side and us five “children” to the other. Although technically it was only Vince and Josh who fell in that category now, and even they were allowed a couple of bottles of beer each.

I lay out on my back as I stared up into the steadily deepening blue of the sky above us. The first stars would be out soon, and the air was chilly but the fire kept back the worst of it. I kicked off my shoes and socks and ran my toes through the cool grass. Vince and Trystan lounged out on the other side of my legs, and they were chatting with Jorja who was lying across me with her head on my stomach. The three of them were talking about which university Vince was going to apply for. Just behind me, Josh was nursing his second beer and had fallen oddly silent. I craned round to get a better look at the youngest Jackson.

“Ye know where ye wanna go?” He shrugged and although I was the elder of Jorja and me and had never had to follow in anyone’s footsteps, I could guess the pressure was frustrating. “Well, there are plenty of other options too,” I added, trying to sound understanding but probably still sounding like every other know-it-all adult.

“What’s it like kissing a guy?” His voice was low. His brothers were by my feet, lain out with their legs toward me, probably eight feet away, his mum and dad the same distance on the other side of the fire. The chatter was loud enough, and the crackling of the flames filled the background. Still, it must have taken a lot to get those words out even at that volume.

I stared at him over my shoulder in slightly stunned silence. It was with some relief that I heard the parents announce they were turning in for the night. I waved an absent good-night with everyone else. Then I shifted round, rolling onto my front and ignoring Jorja’s protest as I forced her to rest her head on my back instead. I was on my fourth beer, and I had a nice warm glow that fuzzed the edges.

Josh was staring down at me, his gaze fixed on my mouth. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. Despite my earlier protests, I had an urge to run my fingers where his tongue had just been, then possibly my own lips, to show him firsthand—oh, the joys of alcohol.

“Kissing is kissing, Josh,” I answered somewhat unhelpfully. “We all have the same parts up here.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks.

“So you don’t mind kissing girls?” he asked despite his apparent discomfort.

“No, I like men.” I’d used the word “men” on purpose, but the flicker of sadness that darkened his eyes made me feel like a complete twat. I wanted to hug him, to press a kiss to his cheek and tell him he was gorgeous. That would definitely give the wrong impression. And my slightly tipsy brain was all too aware of how close his lips were to his flushed cheeks.

“Sorry, yer right, it’s not really the same. But the only girl I’ve kissed was when I was about fourteen. So I’m not really the right person t’ ask.” I hesitated as I saw the frustration flash over his face. I didn’t need to deal with this. It was obvious that he wasn’t out yet, which meant this was probably just a teenage infatuation and was all the more reason to steer well clear. But as I stared up into his downcast eyes—turned gold by the flickering flames of the fire beside us—I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that he had dared to ask and I was being massively unhelpful.

I’d never had someone around to ask these questions to when I was coming out. Then again, my problems hadn’t started until later.

I’d realized pretty early on that I wasn’t really interested in girls, I think I was about thirteen, and I’d kept it a secret from everyone but Jorja and Theo—but obviously they couldn’t help much. Theo had suggested I kiss a girl to see whether I liked it; he’d also offered to let me kiss him afterward to compare. I’d declined because I knew Theo wasn’t gay and was only offering as a friend—a decision I am eternally grateful for making.

I’d kissed a guy for the first time two months later. I can’t remember what he looked like or how it felt, I just knew I liked it much better. I preferred his smell, the feel of his body, the taste of his lips, everything. When I’d told my parents, they had chuckled and told me they’d already guessed. At the time I hadn’t thought much about it, but I now know that I had been very,
very
lucky to have such an understanding family and open-minded best friend. I thought about Josh’s family: Jerry and Vince were clearly homophobic, Trystan was reformed at best, but his attitude still clung to the edges of what he had grown up around.

“What I’ve heard from my friends who came out later than me is that kissing guys is a bit more… aggressive.” I felt kind of weary, because I was possibly the most inappropriate person to be having this conversation with someone who was just coming out. Of all the gay guys I knew, only Ashlie was probably worse than I was, and it was still a fine line.

“Can you show me?” He spoke quickly, and his voice was low and breathless.

I hissed lightly. Because as I stared at those lips of his, I knew that I really wouldn’t mind that at all. I knew that it was a result of the beer and probably getting so worked up with Trystan two nights ago, but suddenly I really wished that I wasn’t seven hours away from an easy lay. In fact, Ashlie would definitely make a suitable replacement—albeit a considerably looser one.

I flinched as a hand slid against the inside of my ankle.

“Jorja,” I snapped as I looked round at her. I was having enough trouble controlling myself as it was, and I really didn’t need my sister’s misplaced affection confusing my senses right now.

“Sorry.” She shifted her head to a different spot against my spine. I realized with a start that her hands were draped across herself: one on her chest, the other on her stomach. The hand on me slid up a little higher on my calf, and then the fingers slid over the small soft hairless places on my ankle as it slipped back down into the arch of my foot.

I craned my head the rest of the way around and saw Trystan had shifted positions. He was sitting perpendicular to me now, leaning back casually against his arms outstretched behind him. Except only one of them was taking his weight, the other one was what I could feel on the inside of my ankle. He wasn’t looking at me; he was staring at Jorja and his brother as he continued with his conversation. The only indication of what he was doing was the smirk on his face. But he was always smirking, and it was dark enough that they didn’t seem to have noticed his hands.

I turned back to Josh, and I’m sure something in my face must have changed because he actually gasped a little bit, his pupils dilated, and his lips parted as a flush spread across his cheeks. Then my head decided to gift me with a vivid image of this boy gasping again, this time while he was beneath me and I was making him pant and moan and cling to me. Yet as soon as the thought flicked through my head, it was replaced by an equally vivid image, this time of his elder brother doing something very similar, except to me. Both of which were wrong on so many levels. I swallowed as I felt myself swelling uncomfortably against the grass.

“Sorry, Josh, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” My voice was a little hoarse, and I’m certain I didn’t sound at all convincing.

“Please,” he whispered. He leaned almost imperceptibly down and toward me as his tongue flicked out along his lips again.

“Nnnn,” I garbled as Trystan’s thumb pressed into the tender flesh in the arch of my foot, making me think of something completely different. I didn’t get it. This was what he’d wanted me to do, right? So why was he distracting me?

“In front of yer brothers?” I tried to sound disapproving and to remind myself that I did actually want distracting, even if it wasn’t in quite the way Trystan was choosing to go about it.

“Want some more beers?” Trystan piped up from behind me. There was a murmur of assent. Then he was getting to his feet, leaning over me as he did so, sliding his hand straight up the inside of my leg. I scowled over my shoulder, meeting his dark brown eyes in the ever-increasing darkness.

“Help me carry.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just wrapped his hand around my upper arm and tugged me to my feet. He dislodged Jorja, who grumbled before twisting around to settle her head in Vince’s lap—who suddenly looked very happy.

“What’s going on, Trys?” I complained as I followed him to my parents’ car and the travel fridge that was in the boot. He pulled out the last of the beers and handed them to me one by one as he popped the caps off.

“I had a change of heart,” he muttered as he leaned back against the boot. He took a swig from one of the beers in his hand and finally looked me in the eye.

“About Josh?” I shook my head. “I’m not going to do anything.” I was more or less certain that was the truth. I mean, there was a difference between being tempted and actually acting on anything—even for me.

“You looked like you were about to push him down and take him in the grass.”

“Well, that was because someone was confusing my senses, ye idiot. Having a reaction to a grown man and acting upon it wi’ a kid are different, ye know.”

“You reacted to me?” His smug smile pissed me off.

“Wasn’t that kind of the point?”

“Mmm, but it’s interesting to know it worked.” He hesitated, and I watched as my and Jorja’s assessment of this man was crushed by a look of indecision flashing over his dark eyes. Then his tongue darted out along the line of his lips, a gesture so similar to his brother’s that suddenly my anger and frustration was replaced by a flash of rekindled lust.

“Ye Jackson brothers will be the death o’ me by the end of this week,” I said with a grimace, as suddenly I wanted the holiday to go quickly for completely different reasons.

“What did he say?”

“Josh? I’m not telling ye.” And with that I turned and headed back to the warmth of the fire.

I sat down cross-legged in front of Josh, mirroring his position with our knees almost touching. When his eldest brother hovered by my back, I pointed in the opposite direction without looking around. He grumbled something but obliged and went to sit nearer to Jorja and Vince, leaving me and Josh slightly removed.