TIGERS DON'T CRY - Chapter Ten
In the harsh environment of a British pub kitchen, young Nate will have to come to terms with his growing attraction for one of his male colleagues.
TRIGGER WARNING - Strong and sexual language. Explicit sexual content.
For those curious to read from the start:
I woke up in the morning stupidly early – six or something – due to my body clock. That was the equivalent of sleeping in for me. First thing I did after pissing and washing my hands, careful not to wet the stitches, was to brush my teeth – a habit my brother mocked because hey, who brushes their teeth before drinking coffee? I did!
I looked at my phone as I stuffed my mouth with frothing toothpaste: there was a text from Ethan. I read it and studied for absolute ages his, ‘Good morning, looking forward to our date tonight,’ followed by a heart-eyed emoji, one blowing a kiss and three hearts.
I considered the message very deeply, absorbing it. Did I think a dude sending me a row of love hearts was weird? A little bit. Sucking cock was less strange than this!
I mean, the guy had a crush on me, obviously. Why, though? What did I do to deserve them little hearts? Give an outstanding blowjob? That’s it?
Well, I have to reply, don’t I?
‘Morning,’ I managed a smiling emoji. ‘I'm looking forward to tonight too. Haven’t been out in eons!’
Ethan didn’t answer my message and his silence went on for hours. I knew he was at work and that it could get quite busy, especially now that I wasn’t there, but a small part of me grew resentful as time went by. I kept checking on my phone for his reply.
My brother wasn’t there to witness my grumpiness unfold. At first I shrugged the matter but I quickly became restless. Was Ethan playing the long game with me? Like when you leave the girl hanging?
I came up with all sorts of infuriating scenarios, like Ethan smirking away as he ignored me on purpose, waiting for me to give in and send the next message. Sometimes I tried to rationalise but managed badly. Maybe he’s dropped his phone in the sink? It’s eleven-thirty, how busy can it be? Is he on break yet? Why can he not send one single, bloody word!
I tried to distract myself with some random YouTube videos. That didn’t work, so I went to my desk and drew a war bear without enthusiasm. Eventually, I ended up flat in bed, listening to music and brooding. It was quarter to three when Ethan surfaced back into my existence. He rang me.
‘Hiya Nate.’
‘Hey.’ I willed myself to sound unbothered and not like I’d been inundated with relief and stupid fucking happiness.
‘Sorry I didn’t answer your texts. Cam called sick and you’re off too, so… yeah. Absolute insanity, like.’
‘Yeah, I bet.’ They were busy after all. I worried for nothing and I was a fucking moron.
‘So,’ he said chirpily. ‘I was thinking we could go for something to eat tonight and then hit the club? Pulse or something?’
‘Don’t you have work tomorrow?
‘Ah, well. I’ll survive. I’m gonna head home, have a shower and a nap so when we meet I’m gonna be nice and fresh.’
What’s the point of getting yourself nice and fresh if I don't get to touch the goods! Fuck. My hormones were driving my thought process. After inwardly subduing my thirst, I said, ‘Sounds like a plan. Seven o’clock in front of your house?’
‘It’s a date,’ he chuckled. ‘God that was a bad line. Please, forget.’
‘Forget about what?’
He laughed, ‘See you at seven!’
I got very busy after the call. Even though Ethan said “no sexual stuff,” I rolled with the “you never know” scenario and got myself ready for “getting naked.” Just in case. I soaked in a bath, tidied up my pubes that were embarrassingly long, shaved to perfection and went to select an outfit. Fuck, I was really doing this, wasn’t I? It soon became clear that all my clothes were old and just shit, really. Most of my t-shirts had holes in them or were discoloured. I owned exactly two pairs of jeans and two of shoes – my worn trainers and my black ones for work. It dawned on me that not only my fashion sense was a fuckin disgrace but that, if I hoped for sex to be an opportunity peeking through the horizon, I had to appear less like I didn’t care and more like I was making an effort. I was sure Ethan would look great tonight – he was slick without even trying. I couldn’t bear to be like fucking Oliver Twist tagging along. ‘Please sir, I want some more,’ I’d say, and reach for Ethan’s cock. Yeah… no.
I looked into my finances and considered that I could spare a little money to make myself presentable for our date. In an inspired spree of the moment, I quickly got dressed with the misery I owned and headed off to town.
I passed the National Museum, its white columns and looked up at the sky. Heavy clouds bulked all the shades of grey within them and softly, ungainly, shifted over the dreary blue vault. Sputtering rain, not quite worthy to be even called that, sprinkled on the reddish tarmac and pavement – soaking the fallen leaves and creating squelching, slippery carpets of fading yellows and browns under my feet. Naked, dark limbs of trees poked at the drizzly day. Other branches stubbornly resisted the season, holding on to dull, quivering green leaves.
The people walking down the street seemed to not want to stay in the same spot for more than a few moments. In fact, all they did was pass by, clutching their coats and wading through shallow puddles. The weather was too unhappy to offer any entertainment. Plus, it was quarter to five on a Thursday: what else was there to do but to find a chair in a cafe somewhere and sip a hot drink?
I wiggled through some tightly parked cars and, after strolling by the gardens, I crossed the underpass that led to Greyfriars Road. In that small, shady stretch of sixty-or-so feet, the stench of piss was potent. There were two homeless guys there, one smoking a wonky cigarette and the other laying on a makeshift bed by the red and green walls and busy reading a book. I handed them a pound coin each and twenty p I had in my pocket – all the change I had. The men both smiled at me and thanked me so much.
I decided that I couldn’t handle anything posh or complicated, so Primark’s men section would have to do. Before getting to the right floor I had to trek through the infernal confusion of the women’s section. Too many colours, too many things – too many smells meshed into a single, sickly aroma and too. Many. People.
I followed the signs, dashing off stiffly until I was safe from the consumerist chaos and standing in the quieter, modest men-corner on the bottom floor. I was frowning at a striped blue shirt and blankly assessing if it was any good when a hand touched my shoulder.
‘I thought it was you!’
A shock of hot-pink hair and inhumanely bright, blue-green eyes filled my field of vision. The grinning, fluorescent person looked familiar.
‘Uh…’
‘I’m Ethan’s housemate! Manny?’ He was shinier than a pot of glitter, with a twinkling choker around his neck and a curled quiff, perfect like someone had painted it with a brush. Also, he smelled sweet – like strawberry candies. ‘You’re Nate, right?’ He asked, blinding me with his smile.
‘Yeah.’
‘Nice to finally meet you properly!’ Manny offered a hand, unmarred and soft like a girl’s, and I squeezed it with mine, callous and rough. He shook it with surprising vigour.
He was wearing contacts again, I realised. His t-shirt had an interesting design – fish and skulls and swirls of colours. His jean jacket had lots of sewn patches and iridescent sequin on the sleeves. There were several piercings on his face which I hadn’t seen the first time I went around Ethan’s. Two circlets on his left eyebrow, a spike under his lip and a gem on his nostril.
Manny was something between a punk kid and a disco-ball – he definitely knew how to stand out. To add to his quirky looks, the visible skin on his forearms and neck was entirely covered in tattoos – skulls, flowers, gemstones and – interestingly – cupcakes with faces on them.
‘Ethan’s told me lots about you,’ he smiled.
‘Did he now?’ I was surprised.
Manny leaned in, tapping his shiny lips and squinting his unreal eyes at me. He studied my face, ‘Hmm…’
I stepped back, ‘What?’
He made a roundish gesture that was supposed to include the whole of me, ‘You’re Ethan’s ideal guy. All in one person, like.’
My face heated, ‘You wha?’
‘He likes masculine guys but also twinks. The short and cute ones. You’re the full package – blockish but kawaii like an anime character. You’re it, innit!’ He laughed.
I was frozen and didn’t know what to say.
Manny raised an eyebrow, ‘You buying clothes for the date with Ethan by any chance?’
My mouth fell open, ‘Uh…’
‘Oh shit, you actually are!’ He got all excited. ‘Connor! Oi! Come here!’ Manny swished his hand above his head, calling the attention of some guy who was checking out a pair of ripped jeans close by. The dude walked towards us and, immediately, I could tell the two of them made a pair.
This guy was taller than Manny, not to mention how much more than me, and wore mostly black although, wherever there was colour, it was ice-blue or lemon-yellow – bright enough to stop traffic.
He too had piercings, tattoos, chains and all that. Also, he kinda looked miserable. Maybe it was the eyebrows. The tall guy studied me like I was a streak of snot on his pillow.
‘This is Nate,’ Manny said brightly. ‘He’s buying clothes to go on a date with Ethan!’
‘Oh yeah?’ The dude wasn’t looking at me anymore. He got out his phone and typed at a crackin’ speed. Well, didn’t he look like he gave a shit!
Manny beamed and moved his hands like a conductor, ‘Connor’s amazing at picking clothes, like, honest to God! He’ll totally find you a proper nice outfit, mind.’
‘Right.’ I could barely hide my distrust. Not only were these two pretty much strangers but this Connor guy had the air of an utter douchebag.
‘What were you thinking of getting, like?’ Manny asked with sparkling eyes. He laughed, ‘Not that this is like the best place to buy decent clothes but you know, whatever. Guess it suits your taste, innit?’
I was going to ask why, then, was he here if the clothes on sale were meh but then I saw that all Manny had were boxer-shorts and socks.
‘Don’t underestimate Primark,’ Connor said. ‘I found a lot of decent stuff here. You’d be surprised – it’s all about looking at things properly and matching them, like. Bet I can put something good together even in a place like this.’
Manny’s lips quirked, ‘Bet you can.’
Connor shot me a speculative glance. ‘What’s your budget?’
I hadn’t really thought about it and blurted, ‘Dunno. One hundred quid?’
He nodded like I passed a test, ‘Yah. You can get quite a lot with that.’ Connor eyed me from under the curtain of his emo black and aquamarine hair. Well, he was good-looking. Shit. Not as much as Ethan but damn. What the fuck was happening to me, like?
My brain had switched to liking guys and, as I followed Connor and an overjoyed Manny who led me though the men section, I came to the realisation that I really, really wasn’t straight.
I mean, obviously, but not really. Like, fancying one dude was one thing but checking out another one too? It was like that thing in math – when you have one point in space, a line can pass through it infinite times in infinite directions. If you have two points, though, only a straight line can come out of it. An infinitely straight line… only, in my case, not straight. So like, I couldn’t have doubts now.
I stopped by a rack of video game-themed t-shirts and swayed a little, broiling in shock.
‘Yolright?’ Manny put a hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m cool,’ I droned under my breath.
‘Oh.’ Connor, unaware of my freaking-out moment, went to inspect a hoodie that had been abandoned in a corner where it didn’t belong. It was mustard yellow, with a gaping t-rex printed on the front. He lifted it against my chest. ‘A little loose. It’ll look nice.’
I had to say something. No way I’m going to wear that. What the fuck of a colour is that, even, like? But I was mute, only staring wide eyed as the search continued. Connor picked something else I was so unprepared to wear – skinny jeans in different shades: dark grey, black and brown.
Oh God, I’m going to look like a knob with those on!
‘That’s… not really my style,’ I said after Connor selected three pairs of trousers my size to take to the changing room, as well as two jackets and even socks and a beanie.
Manny put his hands on my shoulders as if he was about to shake me into sobriety, ‘Look Nate, I’m not joking like. Connor knows this shit, trust me. You’re going to look mint as fuck. I promise.’
Not only I didn’t like shopping for clothes but fashion, in general, was such a boring thing for me that my brain kinda switched off just thinking about it. Maybe that’s why, even though the outfit Connor had selected was slightly out of my comfort zone, I decided to give it a chance – I couldn’t be fucked to do this myself.
He collected more items – a long sleeve and another hoodie – and plunked the ball of assorted clothes on my arms. I could just about carry the bundle.
‘Try the yellow hoodie with this jacket here and the black jeans first,’ Connor said seriously as he pointed at the items. ‘Do you want a t-shirt under the hoodie?’
‘I guess… like, any would do.’
‘When you take the top layers off, the t-shirt has to match the trousers and the rest, even if you can’t normally see it.’
Suddenly I was doing this awkward cat-walk in and out of the changing room.
Manny looked like he was in raptures every time I appeared and Connor’s eyes morphed into slits of critical observation. He’d approach me and either adjust my trousers, folding it tidily up my ankles – ‘You need to show a bit of socks, trust me,’ he’d tell me – or straighten my jacket. I couldn’t tell if he was happy with the result of his efforts or not.
After I tried all the clothes in different combinations, he said, ‘Can you spare twenty more quid?’
‘I… suppose…’ I replied. At that point I’d seen myself in the mirror a few times over and realised that there was a sense to Connor’s choices. I was kinda cool, like a skater kid. The mustard top together with the brown jacket were really not half bad and the skinny jeans made my arse look great.
He fetched a pair of shoes, Vans-like – black, white and yellow. ‘These will go with all the clothes you’ve got.’
‘Hang on… am I getting everything?’
He smirked, ‘One-hundred twenty quid exactly. You can mix and match and make it look different every time. You’ve got like nine combinations you can play with – nine outfits, innit.’
‘Mate,’ I gawked at him, honestly impressed. ‘Are you a personal shopper, like?’
‘No, I’m a tattoo artist,’ he said. ‘But I do like my clothes.’
‘Oh right,’ I said in surprise. ‘So what, like, you work with Ethan?’
Connor huffed, ‘Fuck no.’
Manny grimaced and looked at him, murmuring a very audible, ‘Shut up.’
Puzzled by the weird conversation, I went back to the clothes.
I tried the shoes Connor had given me and glanced at my reflection one more time. For once, I wasn’t an invisible guy. I was still short, yeah, but I was alright, like I knew my shit. Sort of cool.
‘Nate you look absolutely fuckin mint!’ Manny’s turquoise eyes gleamed with glee, ‘Stuunning!’
I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected help I’d received. I smiled widely at them both and especially at Connor, ‘Thank you mun.’
I felt pretty guilty I’d thought badly of him. He was sound and maybe just happened to have a resting-bitch-face, like.
Connor tilted his head as if he was thinking deeply about something, then his pierced lips curved, ‘You cute, though. Damn.’
I couldn’t fucking believe my ears. Another dude, a hot one at that, was calling me the fuckin C word! All interested, like! The other C word – Cunt, like? – would have almost been better.
‘The guy’s going on a date, hun. He’s taken!’ Manny said a little sharply.
‘Is he though?’ Connor pouted and gave me the eye. ‘Will you give me your number? As payment for the service, innit.’
Was this really happening to me? Like, me? ‘I’m not… I mean.’ “Not gay” wouldn’t do. ‘I’m seeing Ethan, like.’
‘Yeah, I figured.’ He grinned. ‘Monogamy is boring though. I’m sure Ethan agrees.’
Manny slapped his arm and shot him a sidelong glare. ‘Ignore him Nate,’ Manny said sweetly. ‘Best if you pay for your stuff and go! It's already half past six.’
I started, ‘Fffuck!’
I rushed to the till and thanked fucking God that there were only a couple people in the cue. As soon as I was out of Primark I called for a cab – I needed to leave most of my new clothes at home and wear just one of the outfits, choosing the mustard hoodie – which I'd come to like real fast – the brown and black jacket and the mocha jeans, rolling them up like Connor suggested I’d do, leaving a bit of socks out.
I sorted out my hair quicker than a MotoGP winner. As I was spritzing myself with cologne and swearing in a panic like a fucking maniac, my brother came back. I zoomed out of the bathroom and he seemed mighty surprised to find me looking smart like I’d never been before.
‘You going on a date?’ Obviously, he asked.
‘Yeah, like, I’m in a rush. Cab’s waiting.’ I opened the front door.
Louis leaned on the kitchen counter. He brought a can of Sprite to his lips and smiled, ‘What’s her name?’
As good a time as any. I looked him in the eye, ‘Ethan.’
My brother’s eyes widened.
‘See ya!’ I tramped down the stairs and got into the taxi thinking that, fucking hell – all this gay dating business was getting pretty expensive. Oh well. My heart pounded with anticipation. I told myself, ‘It’ll all be worth it at the end.’