Loving Jay (3 page)

I thought fast, trying to formulate a lie.
Shit!
I wasn’t any good at lying. “Uhh… I called you Jay? I just make up names for people I see all the time. Sorry.”

He digested this for a while. “And I look like a Jay? Gay-Jay?” He looked hurt at the thought. I rushed in to reassure him, wanting to smooth over ruffled feathers.

“Nah. You wore a badge one day with a big ‘J’ on it. Something about ‘just smile?’ All I could see was the ‘J’ letter so I began calling you that in my head.”

Jay-or-whatever-his-real-name-was looked to the ceiling as if thinking about what I said, trying to remember such an instance. “I did?”

“Yeah. It was yellow.” I could’ve told him he actually wore it for eight days, not just one. I could’ve told him I knew the exact wording on the badge and exactly how long ago it was that he wore it. But I had some semblance of self-preservation.

His face suddenly cleared as he obviously remembered. “Oh yeah! I remember it! My niece, Tabitha gave it to me. Oh, she is a dear. I love her to death. She’s just eight years old and she is such a doll. She loves dressing up and earrings and makeup and all that. I have so much fun when I go over her house. Whatever. Anyway, she made me the badge and what could I do but wear it? I am a proud uncle after all! She was so chuffed that I wore it and I couldn’t bear to tell her I forgot to take it off before I chucked my shirt in the washing machine. It fell apart. Oh, I was heartbroken. Totally heartbroken, I tell you. In the end I had to tell her I gave it to a homeless man. She totally bought the lie and—”

“Uh, dude?”

He stopped, his hands suspended in mid-flight where he was demonstrating his point. He turned and scrunched up his face at me. “Oh, right. Verbal diarrhea again, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

“You were close, though.”

Close? Close to what?

“My name, I mean. My name is actually James. My family call me Jamie, but I use James at work. I try to be professional and all. You know? People look at me and think I’m just a brainless fairy. But I’m not, you know? So I try a little harder at work to be less… immature.”

The train trundled on, stopping at the last station before it hit the tunnel under the city where Jay… uh… James and I would need to alight. James prattled on and I listened with half an ear. Not that he wasn’t interesting, just that I was somewhat transfixed by the sound of his voice. I could listen forever. All too soon for my liking, we were in the tunnel.

James nudged me with his shoulder. “So do I get to know your name?”

“Liam.”

“Huh. Liam. I like it. It suits you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Did he mean it was a dorky name and it suited me? Or it was a strong name and it suited me? Or it was a gay name and it suited me? Because I’m not gay. We stood in unison and I followed him through the crush of people to the doors. And yeah, okay, I may’ve let all those bodies push me a little closer to James than necessary. The doors opened and like a single-brained entity we all pushed forward, crowding toward the stairs. I looked up, knowing that I couldn’t make the climb on my leg, and regretfully made my way out of the line of people to take the long way around to the escalator. I was surprised to find James at my side.

I grimaced. “You didn’t have to. It sucks having to take the long way. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” We stepped together onto the moving stairs and they began to propel us up. James nudged me again.

“It’s fine, Liam. No problem.”

In what seemed to be a blink of an eye we were at ground level and I had to leave, heading in the opposite direction from James, who needed to take a connecting bus farther to the east. I hesitated and stepped out of the flow of commuters and to the side. James followed and crowded in my personal space a bit. I didn’t mind.

I looked at him, marveling that even up close he looked gorgeous. His lips looked full and totally kissable, and we were standing close enough that if I leaned in some, and he leaned some, our mouths would meet. Not that I wanted to kiss him or anything. I’m not gay.

“So….” It seemed he didn’t know what to say this time either.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” I asked. God, I hoped so. This morning had been great.

“Yeah. Sure thing. See you tomorrow.” He was nodding and smiling in my direction. I felt like skipping away. I would see him tomorrow. I knew his name now, and he knew mine. We could talk. God, I couldn’t wait. I stepped off but he called my name and I turned back. He was standing in line, ready to board a bus.

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“You can call me Jay. I’d like that.” And like a wraith, he entered the bus and I lost sight of him.

I smiled involuntarily and I am sure I looked like a total dipstick.
I could call him Jay. He’d like me to call him Jay. I was going to see him tomorrow.

Then I came to a sudden realization.
I’m so gay.

J
AY
WAS
going to miss the train if he didn’t get here soon.

I could see the headlights shining in the distance, drawing closer. It totally sucked getting up before 5:00 a.m. to go to work, but the trade-off was that I was home before 3:00 p.m. Totally cool. But during the winter it meant taking the morning train in the pitch-dark.

I wondered once again where Jay was and how far he had to come to get to the train. I just had to come a hop, step, and a jump—I’d bought an apartment just two blocks from the train station—so it was a three-minute dash or a five-minute wander for me to get to the train, depending on my mood and the weather.

The apartment was brand new and I loved it. It was inner-city living outside of the city. House prices in Perth had skyrocketed, putting the average three-bedroom house on the six-hundred-square-meter block out of the reach of anyone under the age of thirty unless they had rich parents. My brothers had scrimped and saved
—
and with a little help from Mum and Dad
—
had all bought modest houses and were working at paying off huge mortgages. I was the only kid who had gone for the apartment-style living that was now becoming popular over the house-and-garden option. Admittedly, I had help to pay for it
—
Mum and Dad had invested half of the compensation payment I’d received from the accident and I’d used that to get me started in my real estate investment. The other half of the compo money had been used years ago
—
medical bills, doctor’s appointments, physical therapy classes, tutoring, gym memberships, painkillers.

The apartment was also in the middle of the newest upmarket, “village-style” living complex—close to all amenities and right next to the train station, which was a must since I didn’t drive a car.

I looked again at the approaching train. I could deliberately not get on and wait for Jay, but what if he wasn’t going to work today? What if he was sick? What if he got fired for being late and now had to get another job that meant he didn’t have to catch the morning train? Fuck!

What if I never saw him again? After all this time, I had finally managed to talk to him and now he was gone. And after me finally admitting to myself that yes, maybe, probably, it was looking pretty sure that I was gay.

I’d done some pretty intensive soul-searching over the past twenty-four hours and I had come to the conclusion that boys did it more for me than girls. I rolled my eyes at my internal wimpishness.
For God’s sake, Liam, be a man, not a child. Say it to yourself
—
you prefer cock. You don’t want a soft woman with flabby tits. You want a hard body that is male and comes with an equally hard cock. You want morning stubble and furry chests and balls.

I tried to imagine what Jay looked like under his clothes—complete with morning stubble, a furry chest, and balls. I had a pretty good idea of his body shape, as some of the clothes he wore were skintight and ought to be illegal. His buttocks and thighs were especially fine toned and well formed. I tried to image what his dick was like—circumcised? Most guys my age—and I assumed he was around my age—were circumcised, but some weren’t. I assumed he would have blond pubic hair because his eyelashes and eyebrows were blond. But maybe he shaved or waxed down there? Pubic hair was nice, but shaven…. Hoo-ee.

Shit! Now I have another bloody erection on the station platform. This was getting to be a habit. Soon someone will just have to say the word “train” and it will be instant wood! “Hey, Liam! I’m going to the gym to train. You wanna come? Hey, is that an erection?”

The train pulled in and I was just about to take a step forward when I felt a tap on my arm. I looked to the side and there was Jay. Beautiful Jay. Gorgeous Jay. Rebel Jay who was about to break Transperth’s rules as he handed me a steaming cup of coffee and entered the carriage, unsuccessfully hiding his own cup in his jacket.

“Quick, hide it!” he hissed at me over his shoulder and made his way down the end. I sighed and followed him, nodding politely to another 5:26 a.m. regular who was sipping her own beverage from a thermal mug.

I settled in beside Jay and leaned in confidentially. “Dude, I’m pretty sure that everyone breaks the rules and brings food on the train this early in the morning. I’ve even seen the guards do it. Relax.”

Jay looked around at the whole three other people who were in our carriage and unwound. “Oh. Right. Okay.”

I settled back as the train pulled away and took a hesitant sip. Flat white with one sugar, just the way I liked it. “How’d you know what coffee I wanted?”

Jay gave a secretive little smile and shrugged. “I remembered from yesterday.”

I took another appreciative sip and nodded my liking. “Thanks, Jay. It’s just want I needed.”

“Your turn to buy tomorrow. Okay?” I looked over at him to see him blushing slightly, staring at his cup so he wouldn’t have to meet my eyes. Why? I knew he wasn’t shy. Did he think I was going to reject him? Did he have people reject him a lot? Did they take one look at him and think he was too fruity to be a good friend? Oh, fuck! Was he
offering
more than friendship?

Well, I wasn’t turning him down. “Sure. What do you want?”

“A skinny café mocha with half a sugar, please.” I held my grin inside; trust Jay to have a complicated, girly order.

“Can’t I just order a flat white for you?” I was totally mocking him, and I was pretty sure he would do something flamboyant in response, and I was right. Before I could say “just teasing” he was on his soapbox—that box obviously got a lot of workout with him—and giving me a lecture about the differences in coffee. I didn’t want to tell him I was a total coffee-philistine who couldn’t tell the difference between instant and espresso or whatever the shit is they make at the fancy cafés.

I allowed him to go on for a while, just to hear his voice, but finally I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket. With a couple of taps I’d opened the notes function and I typed in “Jay’s coffee: skinny café mocha half sugar.” I held it up in front of his nose to cut off the flow of words pouring from his kissable mouth. He halted and focused on the screen.

“Oh. Yes. Good. Good idea. Thanks.”

I put my phone back in my pocket and told him, “You’re welcome.”

We sipped our beverages in silence for a while before I finally couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Ah, Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re friends now, yeah?”

“Umm… I guess?”

“So, in the tone of friendship, I’m going to ask you a really hard question. Okay? I just don’t want you to get too upset.”

“Ahh….” Jay was holding his breath and looked terrified—rabbit-in-the-headlights terrified. He was wide-eyed and tense. But I just had to ask. Friends helped friends, didn’t they?

Before he could conceive too many terrible scenarios, I ploughed on. “You’re not going to wear those pants all day, are you?”

It took a second to sink in, but I watched avidly as he deflated, slumping dejectedly in his seat, and nervously picked at the material on his thigh. Watching Jay’s overreaction to every situation he found himself in was more entertaining than prime-time TV. He didn’t disappointment me.

“Oh my Gawd! Are they that awful? I knew I just shouldn’t wear them. I was debating for ages this morning whether to wear them or dump them. They just cost me the earth, you know? But I didn’t want to toss them without wearing them at least once. I don’t know what made me buy them! A moment’s insanity maybe? I knew Tara—she’s the receptionist at the radio, you know—would tell me the truth. Oh my Gawd! I’m so embarrassed! Tell me straight, are they so bad? Like barf-in-my-bag bad?”

I looked at him solemnly. “Dude, even when M.C. Hammer had the bad taste to wear those pants he at least didn’t wear them in red tartan.”

Jay gave a screech of dismay. “Oh my Gawd! You are so right!” He dumped his half-emptied coffee cup in my spare hand and grabbed his trendy red backpack. “Never fear! I was prepared for this eventuality.”

Before I could say lickety-split, he was delving into the depths of the bag and pulling out a pair of plain denim jeans. He flicked them out in the small space between the train seating with a satisfied “ta-dah!” and bent to unlace his black combat boots. I watched him toe them off and looked around the mostly empty train carriage in trepidation.