“Are you trembling?” Harry said.
“No, not…” He was, he could feel it. “I’m a bit cold,” Noah offered.
Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Noah. “Come here, it’s OK.”
And it was OK, as Noah sank into the blissful cuddle and the warmth of Harry’s fluffy, baby-blue jumper. “I got you something,” Harry murmured.
“Oh?”
“Here,” Harry said, breaking away and pulling a carrier bag out from behind him.
“But it’s not my birthday. Or Christmas,” Noah said.
Harry smiled. “I know. I was just buying my boyfriend a little present.”
“Oh.” Noah swallowed. Shit. He was a terrible boyfriend – why hadn’t he ever thought of doing something like this? Instead, there he was, making a huge issue over a bit of lid yoghurt! “Oh! That’s… Thank you, Harry. That’s lovely! A lovely thing! Thank you. I… This is so nice. It’s the best thing ever. You’re so lovely.”
“You don’t know what it is yet.”
“No. No, I don’t, but you got it for me, so I’ll love it whatever it is!”
“Have a look, then.”
“OK,” Noah said, peering inside the bag and pulling out a beautifully soft, grey hoodie.
“Do you like the colour?” Harry asked.
Noah nodded, rubbing the fleecy interior against his cheek. “Oh my God, it’s so soft!”
Harry grinned. “Glad you like it.”
“Thanks, Harry. This is so lovely,” Noah said, putting it on. Warm and soft and perfect – just like the person who gave it to him. He did the zip up. “Ta-da! I am literally going to wear this everywhere. And if I’m not wearing it, like because it needs a wash or the thing I’m doing requires a different sort of outfit, then I’ll still have it with me. Because it’ll remind me of you.”
“Cute,” Harry said, pulling the hood over Noah’s head. “You look really, really good. And now you’ll be warm too.”
They both leaned forward at the same time and fell into a long kiss, the hood falling away again as Noah wrapped his arms around Harry, whilst Harry nuzzled kisses into Noah’s neck and rubbed his hand up Noah’s thigh, his fingers gently tickling under the leg of Noah’s PE shorts.
“Aww,” Harry sighed, “wish your mum wasn’t downstairs.”
“And if you don’t already know, I have to tell you: there’s also a drag queen on the loose.”
Harry shook his head. “Your house is crazy.” He planted another kiss on Noah’s lips. “Maybe … if we’re quiet?”
“There’s no lock on my door, though!” Noah said, pulling back a bit. “And Mum … well, you know what she’s like.”
“Yeah. Of course.” Harry nodded.
“I do want to, though,” Noah added, quickly. “Just to confirm that. I would definitely, absolutely, like to do things. With you.”
Harry smiled. “Me too.”
“We’ll plan it!”
“OK, fine, we’ll plan it,” Harry chuckled.
This was good, Noah considered. Having a plan was an excellent thing to have. And it would give him a bit of time. To work on his abs and down protein shakes, so he wouldn’t be all skinny and awkward. He could plan for shadowy lighting, and various sexy garments to strategically obscure as much of his body as possible.
“Just probably not at either of our houses,” Harry continued.
Granted, this was a problem, albeit one that was happily buying Noah a bit more time. Noah’s house was becoming increasingly impossible by the day. With Dad back and sleeping in Mum’s room, his half-brother, Eric, regularly staying the night in the spare room – which would shortly be occupied by Noah’s French exchange student – and now Mick or Bambi on the sofa, the house was bulging at the seams. Harry’s house was a calmer affair, but was policed twenty-four-seven by his manic mum, who was still getting used to the idea of Harry being gay, to put it charitably. There was currently nowhere for them to have sufficient privacy to do anything – and whilst the patch of wooded scrubland off the A631 was popular with many people their age (for reasons not connected with an interest in forestry), those kids were basically asking to be murdered by a serial killer/escaped genetic experiment by going there. If American movies had taught Noah little else, they had taught him this.
“We’ll work something out,” Noah said. “And in any case, I do of course have to rehearse my welcome speech for the French tomorrow!”
Harry gave a little smile. “Why are they making you do that?”
Noah sighed and looked heavenwards. “Because you know how the school works! ‘Oh, look, we’ve got something shit that no one else wants to take responsibility for – I know, we’ll get Noah to do it!’ God, I’m so, so, so, so sick of always being the one who they make do everything, just because I have good microphone technique and know about puns.”
“You volunteered, didn’t you?” Harry grinned.
Noah moistened his lips. “Only partially.”
“How do you partially volunteer?”
“Long story, long story,” Noah sighed.
“Uh-huh?”
Noah stifled a grimace. “OK, so the signing-up sheets on the noticeboard were partially obscured. I thought I was putting myself down for … Model Club, but—”
Harry snorted. “Model Club? What’s that – a guy in CK’s parading around on a catwalk?!”
Why was Harry thinking about guys in underwear on catwalks? “No, Harry, not that, Airfix model aircraft. Point is, there was confusion, misunderstandings, it happened, no point crying over spilled milk, best to just get on with it, yes?”
Harry smiled. “And you’re … you’re keeping it … er, simple, I hope?”
“I actually read it out to Sophie over Skype a few days ago,” Noah said. “She said most of it was great.”
“Most of it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Noah said, “I mean, she wanted me to make a couple of minor editorial changes, but I think she’s wrong, so I haven’t.”
Harry stared at him. “You thought Sophie might have been wrong?”
Noah screwed his face up. “Er, Harry,” he said, pointing to himself. “County debating champion last year! Think I can put together a little speech!”
“Sure.” Harry nodded. “Of course.”
“It’s going to be ace. You’ll see. Got a few public speaking tricks up my sleeve. They’ll be eating out of my arse.”
“Hand.”
“That’s right. Hand.”
CHAPTER
FOUR
“I’m doing a speech,” Noah said, glancing at Connor Evans as they waited next to each other in the playground for the French bus to turn up.
“Yeah? That’s great,” Connor muttered, clapping his gloved hands together to stay warm.
“No biggie,” Noah said. “Just a few words to welcome them to the UK – someone’s gotta do it.”
“Cool,” Connor said. He looked at Harry. “You helping with the speech too, Haz? Little joint effort?”
Harry shook his head. “Some things are best left to Noah.”
Connor chuckled. “Damn right.”
Noah nodded and gave a polite smile. He wasn’t massively keen on the fact Harry and Connor were still so matey with one another. How, when Harry had blatantly dumped Connor for Noah, were they still such good friends, able to exchange conversation and have a laugh? A laugh that felt like it was, quite possibly, at Noah’s expense?
Worse, Connor was positioning himself as some sort of alpha gay within the school. He’d dyed his quiffed hair peroxide blond, his trousers had got tighter, his muscles bigger, and Noah had no doubt his body hair situation would be completely in line with what the gay websites said it should be. Rumour had it, Connor was seeing a boy in Year Thirteen – two years his senior! How very edgy. That meant Connor was also probably sexually experienced now, taken under the wing of this sugar daddy in the sixth form, who would have doubtless shown him exactly what to do and when to do it. If anything did ever happ
en with Noah and Harry in that department, Noah was going to have to rely on playground banter, dubious websites and his book on puberty (that didn’t mention anything about being gay in it) for guidance. Some people had it so easy.
All the more reason for Harry to see that what Noah might lack in the GAY SEX KNOWLEDGE department, he more than made up for with public speaking skills. And, after all, which was more important?
“Hey, booooys!” Jess Jackson sidled up to them. Her little baby bump was beginning to bulge under her school shirt, but in every other respect, she was the same old Jess: dressed for a night out rather than a day in school, manicured and perfect, with her silky hair and flawless make-up.
“Noah’s doing a speech, Jess,” Connor said.
Her eyes lit up. “Are you doing a speech, Noah?”
“Yes, I’m doing a bit of a speech.”
“What about?” Jess grinned, like this was somehow the most exciting news she’d received for months.
“Just stuff.” Noah shrugged, picking some imaginary lint off his blazer. “Just about welcoming them to our humble country. It’s not like I want to do it, but the school asked.”
“Mmmm,” Jess giggled, “that’s so cool. I love that.” She looked over to where Melissa was standing with some of the other aloof and possibly mean girls. “Hey, Mel? MEL?! NOAH’S DOING A SPEECH!”
“NO SHIT, YOU DOING A SPEECH, NOAH?!” Melissa shouted back.
Noah grimaced. “Just … yeah, a bit of one.”
“WHAT?!”
“YES! A BIT OF ONE!” Noah shouted back. “God, why’s everyone going on about it so much?”
Connor gave him side-eye. “You mentioned it, mate.”
“Just in passing, though—” Noah stopped as the coach pulled into the yard. “Oh goodness, they’re here, I’d better go and stand near Mrs Stirling so I’m ready.”
Noah pushed through the crowd as everyone descended into hushed anticipation. Noah knew what that was about. His peers might be mildly curious about what the French students would be like, or who they would each be assigned to, but the big question most of them were asking was would any of them be fit?
Noah cleared his throat, straightened his school tie, brushed a bit more imaginary lint off his blazer and glanced at Mrs Stirling for his cue. Across the playground, Jess Jackson blew him a kiss. “I’m hot for your speech, Noah!” she called out.
Noah gave her a brief nod. He had worked out the best approach with Jess was just to go along with it – not fight.
The coach opened its door with a hiss and the French students made their first steps on to UK soil. Thirty or so students gradually spilled out. Boys, girls, short, tall, some with spots, some with braces – despite the reputation of their provenance, they were, in essence, just like them. Noah straightened his tie again. Mrs Stirling was busy looking at her clipboard, but he supposed she would give him the signal for his speech any second now.
“SPEECH!” Jess Jackson shouted.
Noah looked over and scowled. Jess should realize that these things were properly stage-managed – official speeches didn’t just happen willy-nilly. He had to wait for the cue.
Mrs Stirling raised a loudhailer to her mouth. Noah frowned. Was he to do his speech through that, like some sort of fire marshal? Didn’t this school have a proper PA system?
“OK, everyone!” Mrs Stirling began. “Let’s give a warm British welcome to our guests from France!”
Cheers and whoops erupted from the crowd, at a level and intensity completely at odds with the thing being celebrated.
“OK, OK,” Mrs Stirling boomed, “it’s very cold so we’ll crack on…”
Noah cleared his throat again. This was surely the moment. He glanced over at Harry, Connor and Jess. Harry gave him the thumbs up.
“Give it to us, Noah!” Jess shouted, to laughter from her mates.
Mrs Stirling was looking at her clipboard again, apparently unaware of the disruption. “Right, if you can all form an orderly queue, Mr Baxter will be introducing you to your new French ami…”
Noah looked at her with wide eyes.
“The luggage needs to go to reception until you take your student home with you later on…”
Should he say something?
“And don’t forget our very own England versus France football match this afternoon. And just to remind everyone, it’s a friendly match, not an opportunity, as I overheard a certain individual in Year Twelve mention, ‘to remind them who won the Napoleonic Wars’. Thank you, and behave responsibly.”
No, no, no, no!
Everyone started to shuffle off, forming a queue to collect their French student. Noah stood, wide-eyed and going red, at the apparent fact he’d been forgotten.
What. About. His. Speech?!
He glanced over at Harry, Connor and Jess. Connor was in hysterics, loving every second of it. Harry was as wide-eyed as Noah was, watching open-mouthed as Mrs Stirling disappeared into the crowd. Jess looked delighted.
Fine, it was fine, Noah thought. He didn’t care about the speech anyway. It was fine that he’d spent weeks writing and rehearsing it, even whilst revising for mocks, and that was all now time wasted. The next time Mrs Stirling, or anyone, asked for his help, he would politely decline – then they would be sorry. Who would run the tombola at the summer fair? Not him.
Noah bowed his head and surreptitiously started to skulk away from the small podium, pretending like he was just a normal part of the crowd like everyone else, and he’d had no special duties he’d been meant to perform that day.
Jess collapsed into him with breathless excitement. “It was epic, Noah! So good! Best speech I ever heard!”
He glowered at her. “Thanks,” he muttered, through gritted teeth.
“My favourite bit was the part where you literally said nothing and didn’t even make a speech. It’s like you subverted the whole concept of public speaking!”
He wasn’t going to rise to it. Maybe acting like she was genuinely giving him a compliment would confuse her. “Thanks, Jess.”
“That speech will definitely get you head.”
Or possibly not.
She winked at him and flounced off through the crowd. Noah took a deep and calming breath before Connor tumbled into him, all smiles and laughter. “Fuck me, Noah,” Connor said, slapping Noah on the back, “that was hilarious, mate.”
Noah forced out a laugh. “Yeah. Dodged that bullet!”
Connor guffawed. “We gotta hang out more often. Actually, we gotta, ’cause have you seen the little fitty that Harry’s been paired with?”
Noah looked around just as Harry pushed through with the second most beautiful boy Noah had ever seen in his life.
“Hey, guys!” Harry chirped.
Noah understood why Harry was so goddam chirpy. With his chiselled jaw, smouldering dark eyes, roguish smile, lightly tanned skin and deep brown, tousled hair, this boy was mesmerizing. This boy looked ready to film a perfume commercial.
“I’m Pierre,” the boy said, in smooth, silky tones. “Pierre Victoire.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
Noah glanced between Pierre and Harry and loosened his tie a little. “So. You two are paired up. That’s nice. Very nice.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be cool,” Harry said, with a little too much enthusiasm for Noah’s liking. “Pierre’s really into films, so I’ve said we’ll go to the cinema one night.”
Noah nodded. “Uh-huh. You found that out quickly. Been talking, I suppose?”
“Right,” Harry said, brow furrowed. “That’s kinda the idea.”
“No, totally. Totally,” Noah said. “Cinema, huh? That’s not actually on the official itinerary, of course.”
Harry shot Noah a look. “No. It was just … you know, an idea.”
“Very spontaneous,” Noah said.
“You two are lovers?” Pierre said, wiggling his finger between them both.
“Noah’s my boyfriend, yeah,” Harry said.
Of course you bloody are, Noah thought, while nodding politely, like this was all really pleasant news and not at all an issue.
“Nice,” Pierre said again. “We are gay together.”
Noah gave a nervous laugh at this suggestive faux pas and glanced at Harry. Noah could only hope that Harry would never be persuaded to be gay with anyone other than him. Even if that other someone was SO INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE IT WAS BEYOND BELIEF. No. Their gayness was exclusive.
“Ah, Mr Grimes,” said Mr Baxter, sauntering over with a ridiculously tall girl, who seemed to be entirely arms and legs. “This is Eva. Eva – this is Noah.”
Eva flicked her depressed eyes momentarily up at him from under her blonde fringe.
“All right?” Noah nodded.
Mr Baxter rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. I’ll let you two get to know one another, then!”
Noah grabbed Mr Baxter’s arm like he’d just been tasered. “WHOA! Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s that? You’re not suggesting she’s my exchange partner?!”
Mr Baxter nodded.
“But I’m a boy? I’m supposed to be paired with another boy!”
“Well, we don’t have equal numbers of boys and girls,” Mr Baxter explained, like this was a totally reasonable solution to the problem.
“Yes, but—” Noah pulled Mr Baxter to one side and lowered his voice. “Eva is a girl and I … I am a boy! It’s surely not allowed for us to share a house! What if…”
“She’s in a separate room, Noah.”
“Yes, but what if… I don’t know, surely it’s tempting fate or something?”
“That’s why we put her with you.”
Noah smarted. “But … well, all I’m saying is, if she gets pregnant or something, it’s not my fault.”
“No,” Mr Baxter said. “I don’t imagine it would be.”
Noah turned back to Eva and managed a monumentally disappointed smile. There she was, all tall and wan, with a battered guitar case, small holdall and a sullen attitude. Noah hoped she wasn’t planning on playing that guitar. The last thing he needed was some miserable girl strumming out old Radiohead tunes whilst he was trying to sleep.
Noah Could Never Page 3