Hard Tail(55)

"Oh, you know. Stiff, painful-but it was good to get off the bloody bed for a bit."

I gave him a look. "Never thought I'd see you desperate to get out of bed. Usually it's the other way around."

"Tell you what, I'm getting desperate for a bit of that too. Olivia couldn't make it in to see me yesterday."

"Are you telling me you and Olivia have been … here? In the hospital? With your leg like that?" I boggled. "Didn't it, well, hurt? Come to that, is it even possible with all that scaffolding screwed on?"

Jay leered. "Trust me, Olivia's a very inventive girl."

Maybe my mental image of her as the Ice Maiden was a lot further from the truth than I'd thought.





Chapter Fifteen




Monday morning, the coffee in my stomach felt like cement in a mixer as I waited for Matt to turn up to work. God, what was I going to say to him now he knew I'd lied to him-by omission, even if not directly-about my sexuality? 

How would Jay handle a situation like this? Simple: he wouldn't get into this situation in the first place. But if he did …  I tried to imagine what he'd say: "Oh, Matt? Thought I'd try being a poof for a bit. See how it goes. Yeah, bit of a snap decision. Your mate Adam's a right goer, isn't he? I'm well in there. Right, back to work … "

There was no way on this earth I could say anything like that to Matt-

The door jangled, and Matt stepped through, managing to stay upright this time. He gave me a wary look, and my butterfly-filled intestines tied themselves in guilty knots, no doubt breaking a fair few wings in the process. I took a deep breath. "Matt …  I'm really sorry," I said awkwardly.

"What?" Matt frowned, walking towards me. "What for?"

"For, well, lying to you. Saying I hadn't gone out when I obviously had. And, um, the other stuff."

The slight creases on his brow smoothed away instantly. "Hey, it's all right. I get it-you're not out. It's not a problem. And don't worry-I won't say a word to anyone. 'Specially Jay, if you don't want me to." He stared at me earnestly, and I felt ashamed of myself-firstly for lying, and secondly for doubting him. "I know what it's like, okay? I'd never out anyone who didn't want it."

"Matt," I said, the weight of the world slipping off my far-too-narrow shoulders, "you're a star. Thank you."

"Hey, no problem. And, you know, I am glad."

He was glad I was gay?

God knows what my face looked like as he rushed on. "About you and Adam, I mean. He's a good bloke. A good mate. He won't let you down."

I believed him. I wished I could be so sure about myself, however.

***

After Matt disappeared into the back room, I didn't see him again until lunchtime, when he emerged holding a foil-wrapped package. "Got your lunch, here," he said, holding it out. "Wraps again."

I reached out a bit too eagerly to take it and ended up hissing as my shoulder twinged.

"Are you all right?" Matt asked, frowning.

I rotated my shoulder carefully. "Bit stiff from karate yesterday," I said without thinking.

"You do karate?" There was something about Matt's tone as he asked that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was used to people disbelieving me, asking an incredulous You? Why?-but this was something different.

"Er, yes. I got my black belt quite recently," I added, feeling a sort of defensive pride.

If I was after congratulations, I didn't get them. Matt didn't even give me the tired old What, are they giving them away these days? "Oh," was all Matt said. What was up with him? I couldn't quite put my finger on it-and then it hit me: he was wearing the sort of expression I'd always expected to see on people's faces if I ever announced I fancied blokes.

"What? You don't approve of martial arts?" I asked a bit sharply.

"No-I mean, no, I haven't got a problem with …  I just didn't think you were the type, that's all." Matt stared unhappily at his trainer-clad toes, as if they'd just announced they were leaving him to run off with a pair of Gucci loafers.

"The type?" I checked myself. "You get all sorts at karate classes, you know," I went on in a hopefully less defensive tone. "Kids with their dads. Or their mums. Girls who want to know a bit of self-defence. Boys who've been bullied at school and need a bit of physical self-confidence. It's a good sport," I finished a bit weakly.




 

 

"Yeah. Sorry." Matt's face was still hidden in a mass of shaggy curls as he stared resolutely at the floor.

"I mean, sometimes you get someone who's a bit of an arse," I admitted. "Take the class I'm going to down here-there's one guy who's the sort who gives the sport a bad name. But we're not all vicious thugs like Prick-tard, sorry, Pritchard."