Confide in Me

by Renae Kaye

  “I’ll wake you when it arrives, okay?”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the room was in pitch darkness, there was a glow coming from the hallway, my bladder was killing me, and Callum was snoring slightly, tucked under the quilt on my left. Justin had apparently lied to me about the Uber. Drunk me was obviously gullible.

  I decided my bladder needed the most attention, so rose and used the toilet. My watch said it was three in the morning. I couldn’t be bothered calling and waiting up for an Uber. I looked down at my feet and wondered where my shoes had gone. The clothes were still the ones I had been wearing when Tammy’d had her allergy attack—grey trackies and a blue jumper. Callum was on his stomach spread out under the black-and-white quilt on the bed. Until my bladder alarm clock had woken me, I’d been stretched on top of the bed.

  I hesitated, looking at the side of the bed I’d recently vacated. If it had been Tammy or Todd in the bed, I wouldn’t have had a problem. But because it was Callum…. I sighed, yanked my jumper over my head, pushed my trackies to my ankles, and told myself to stop being stupid. Neither of us was going to get frisky. We were both too drunk, too tired, and not that stupid.

  Wearing only a T-shirt and briefs, I crawled under the covers on my side of the bed and closed my eyes. If I sent Goddess Kylie a little prayer asking her to make it real, it didn’t mean anything. Right?

  ~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Seven

  What do people do when they wake with the man of their dreams cuddled up to them?

  If you’re a stupid prick like me, who’d consumed an entire bottle of very nice, very expensive, and very potent wine the night before, you’re in no fit state to appreciate it.

  “Kill me now,” I groaned into the pillow.

  “Not gonna happen,” someone muttered behind me, and warm arms squeezed my torso. I swam a little bit closer to fully appreciating my surroundings, and discovered I was lying on my stomach while Callum was using me for a pillow. His head was somewhat painfully—although I’d never admit it—pressed against my shoulder blade, his arms wrapped around me, and his hands tucked under my stomach.

  “I’m never drinking again,” I vowed.

  “The wine was that good?” Callum asked.

  “The wine was absolutely fabulous, darling. But the after-effects are Oedipean-level disaster.”

  I swallowed and felt fur in my mouth. Ugh.

  A few minutes later, during which we had lain in—blissful!—silence, Callum finally said, “Nope. I can’t figure it.”

  I didn’t want to think, but I hated unanswered questions more than I hated headaches.

  “Can’t figure what?”

  “Oedipus. He was the guy who married his mother accidentally, wasn’t he? How can the mother of all hangovers be anything like him?”

  A guy who knew who Oedipus was? I fell completely in love with him.

  “Because Oedipus was forewarned that it would happen. He was told he would kill his father and marry his mother, so he ran away. Even after he ended up killing a man, he didn’t stop and think this could be part of the prophecy. He was stupid to think he could change his destiny. Why didn’t he check who the woman he was about to marry was?”

  “Huh,” Callum grunted. “I’ve never thought about that. If someone foretold my future, I’d definitely keep it in mind.”

  “Exactly,” I mumbled. “Same with wine. You could’ve told me what would happen if I drank the entire bottle, but still I went ahead and did it. And now the after-effects are even worse because it’s self-inflicted misery. I knew what was going to happen, but still I went ahead, thinking I was bigger and smarter.”

  “Own goal?” Callum sympathised.

  “Totally.”

  We lay together in our cocoon and self-inflicted, miserable bubble for a long while, until I thought to ask, “Do you have a hangover too?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “Simply feeling a little off colour.”

  I was astounded. “You don’t have a hangover, and you’re simply lying here with me to keep me company, and you never thought that perhaps I really, really, pretty please, super-duper, I’d prostitute myself out for, needed a Panadol or twenty?”

  I felt him laugh against my back. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

  He climbed off me and strolled to the door. I didn’t bother moving a muscle, apart from my eyes to watch him walk out of the room. He was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. I immediately missed his warmth and company. Perhaps the headache was worth putting up with if Callum would keep cuddling me. I moved one leg, stretching it, and the slight movement of the bed made me nauseous. Nope. Painkillers were more important than cuddles from a guy who just wanted to be friends.

  Because my eyes were closed, I missed his return and only realised he was there when he spoke. “Here. Panadol, water. I’m making breakfast. Did you want anything?”

  “Do you know when I asked you to kill me?” I muttered. “I didn’t really mean it.”

  “So no breakfast?”

  I turned my face to the pillow. “Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.”

  He left me alone after that, but abruptly appeared back about three minutes later.

  “Hamlet.”

  I jumped. I had been dozing and praying that Goddess Kylie came through with the painkillers kicking in. I hadn’t been expecting Callum to yell at me from the doorway. Or perhaps that was my hangover amplifying everything.

  “Huh?” I said, moving my head so I could see him.

  He was now fully dressed and grinning at me from the doorway. “Hamlet. I googled it.” He waved his phone in my direction, then pulled it back to read the screen. “I looked it up. ‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.’ It’s a quote from Hamlet by Polonius.”

  He badly mangled poor Polonius’s name, but at least he tried. “Yep.”

  His grin widened. “Cool. Actually, I like that quote. I’m going to use it.” He walked away practicing the quote. I smiled, feeling fuzzy in a way that had nothing to do with wine. He was a keeper.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “I thought you were dumping him for good?”

  Tammy was out of hospital and making me sorry for that fact.

  “I never said that,” I denied, furiously trying to think if I had.

  “You’re better than just the agony aunt he uses you for,” she said stubbornly.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m over him. I understand the boundaries. And I have a date for Saturday night.”

  “What’s his name?” she asked suspiciously. She was a smart cookie—which was why she was my best friend. Fortunately I had made a date. His name was Stuart and I had no idea what he saw in me. From his profile and photos, I was batting way above my weight.

  Tammy gushed over his picture and was happy to let the subject of Callum drop.

  I managed to accidentally tell Callum about the date too. Sort of. I wasn’t going to tell him, but then he said to me, “I really enjoyed hanging out with you last Saturday. Me and the boys are going to the pub tonight. Do you want to come along?”

  I stuttered and stumbled about not being able to go. When he asked if it was something I could put off, I admitted it was a date. That was met with a shocked silence, before Callum ventured, “A date? Like with a guy?”

  To that I got a little upset. “Yes. Like with a guy. Like I went out with you because I’m looking for a boyfriend to love and spend time with. Like someone to look at a future with. Like someone to hang with when I’m bored, discuss books and movies with, to whine about work with when I get home in the afternoon, and to make dinner and share a meal with.”

  “But you can hang with me,” Callum said sulkily.

  He was being dense. “What about the sex and the love?” I asked sarcastically. “Or are you going to sacrifice yourself for that? Lie back and think of England?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so.”

 
; “How about you join us if your date is a bust?” Callum said finally. “Message us when you finish?”

  Was he really that dense? “Callum. Think about how our date finished.”

  More silence, before Callum said sulkily, “Is he at least taking you somewhere decent first?”

  It was like dealing with a teenager. Thankfully I had a lot of practice with that. “Actually, I suggested the place. Magna Pizza. Casual without being McDonalds. Not too classy.”

  “As long as you both avoid the garlic,” Callum joked.

  I was a little peeved at him, but agreed that if the date went “bust” I would ring him.

  I didn’t expect to see him so soon.

  Stuart and I were halfway through our pizzas and I was trying to stop from yawning as Stuart maintained his monologue about some reality cooking show that I didn’t watch, when my attention was caught by a group of four young men crowding the counter. One guy was speaking with the server and asking for a table, one was looking at the board to see what was available, one was not-so-subtly checking out a table where a couple of pretty girls were giggling over their meal, and one was staring straight at me with a defiant expression. This could get ugly.

  The other three hadn’t noticed me, and from the way they were acting, they didn’t know I was in the restaurant. Oh, Callum was in so much trouble over this one. Stuart hadn’t seen my distraction, so I determinedly turned away from Callum and smiled at my date. He was up to episode four from what I could tell, and I tried to get interested in the culinary mistakes of some stranger who’d submitted herself to the horrors of reality TV for the entire world to judge her. I was aware of the group, however, and was glad when they were seated across the room behind me so I wouldn’t have to look at them.

  Another five minutes passed, by which time I was starting to feel the muscle strain of holding myself rigid, knowing Callum was staring at me. Relief came in the form of my name called loudly across the room.

  “Ed. Hey, look. There’s Ed.”

  I looked around at the only person who would do that. Rhys. I internally cringed. Even after knowing him for only one week, I could see he was the one his friends most wished had duct tape over his mouth.

  I looked at the others. Whereas Rhys was grinning and waving happily, Brendan appeared to immediately realise they were interrupting a date and was trying to pull Rhys’s waving arm down and shush him. Brendan looked distinctly uncomfortable, and I wondered if it was because of my obvious gayness being on a date. Justin, however, wasn’t even looking at me. He was observing Callum’s reaction with a speculative look on his face. I could’ve answered his unasked question.

  Yes, Justin. Callum deliberately chose this place to come to because he knew I was here. The question should be, “Why?”

  Callum, surprisingly, wasn’t looking at me. He was contemplating Stuart with no expression on his face.

  “Friends of yours?” Stuart asked.

  With an apologetic shrug, I said, “Yeah. I’d better go and say hello. Do you mind?” Stuart looked like he did mind. “Either I say hello over at their table, or they’re going to come over here.”

  With Stuart’s permission, I quickly crossed the room to them.

  “Fancy meeting you guys here,” I said, my voice laden with sarcasm.

  Callum’s expressionlessness didn’t change. His gaze was flicking from me to Stuart and back again.

  Justin answered me. “Yes. What a remarkable coincidence.” His tone was droll as he risked a glance sideways at Callum. He obviously grasped the situation and was cynical about the reason.

  I directed my question at him. “So now that I’ve made nice and come over to say hello, are you guys going to leave me alone with my date?”

  Callum finally spoke. “Are you having a good time?” His voice was flat.

  “Not really, no,” I answered honestly. “But I’m willing to give him a chance.”

  “Why?” There was expression in Callum’s voice at last. He was genuinely curious.

  “Because first meetings are often hard. You have two hours to impress someone you’re judging at the same time. It isn’t always easy to show your best side.”

  “You should just—”

  “We’ll just keep our opinions to ourselves, won’t we, boys?” Justin talked over Callum. Callum looked like he was going to argue, but Justin gave him a strong stare. “Because if Ed likes this guy, that’s all that matters, right?”

  Callum glared, but eventually gave a single nod and a guilty glance in my direction. I took it as an apology he would later expand on, and rapped my knuckles on the table. “Okay. Now I’d better get back. See you.”

  I returned to Stuart and his reality TV cooking dialogue, and didn’t look in their direction again. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel their stares for the rest of the night. When Stuart suggested we move on to a coffee shop, I couldn’t help but agree. We left together and I gave a brief wave in Callum’s table’s direction. Callum nodded and gestured, putting his hand up to his ear as if it was a phone.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Eight

  What do you do when the guy you’re in love with rings you on a Sunday morning to find out how your date with another guy went?

  I recommend hanging up.

  “H’lo?” I answered, still half asleep.

  “So? How did it go?”

  I didn’t immediately recognise the voice on the other end, which was way too chipper for a Sunday morning. “Huh?”

  “The guy. How did it go? Is he with you now?”

  “Callum?” I questioned, bewildered. “What time is it?”

  “Nine. So, tell me—”

  I hung up. I put my phone on silent and ignored his calls and texts for another three hours until I could think. When I read through all his texts I felt a little better. He apologised—twice—for barging in on my date, asked if I was still with the guy and that’s why I wouldn’t speak to him on the phone, then finished up by asking for another movie recommendation.

  Wolf Creek.

  The moment I pressed the send button I knew it was the wrong thing. He now knew I was awake and reading his texts. Damn the man for tricking the English teacher. He replied within a minute.

  Aw. Are you that mad at me that you’d send me to watch a horror film?

  I didn’t reply. He tried again.

  Did you meet him on Tinder? Maybe I can find his profile there and send him a message. Maybe he’ll tell me how the date went?

  I considered his chance of success at that and decided it was slim.

  Come on, Ed. I’m sorry. I really really am. Call me?

  I looked at the screen and gave in. I pressed the buttons required to connect us and wandered out into the backyard. The sun was shining, so I flopped down in the centre of the lawn and listened to the phone ring only once before Callum picked up.

  “Hey. You still mad at me?”

  “Yup,” I said with a big sigh.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I thought about it. “What are you actually sorry for, Callum?”

  His voice was quiet when he replied. “I shouldn’t have gone to the restaurant where I knew you were. It was stupid. It was impulsive. I won’t do it again.”

  “Why did you do it?” I asked tonelessly. That’s what had been nagging at me all night. Why had Callum turned up? He couldn’t have been jealous about me having a date, because he had dates too. I’d considered that he’d been jealous over me perhaps having a successful date, and therefore wanted to see how to conduct one. I’d considered that he was being an arse and wanted to mess with me. I’d considered he was selfish and was trying to deliberately wreck my date so that I would hang with him.

  “I don’t know,” he said without inflection.

  “Not good enough,” I swiftly replied. “You’re no longer ten and trying to explain why you thought kicking a football inside the house was a good idea. You’re an adult and you can verbalise your actions and emotions.”

&n
bsp; There was a pause, then he said, “I was worried.”

  “Worried?” I said flatly. That was one of the things I’d never considered.

  He sighed loudly. “I don’t know, Ed. You told me you were going on a date and next thing I was all anxious and upset about it. I wondered if you were going to get hurt or if you were going to have a crap time. I wanted to make sure you were okay. You told me where you were going and I knew it was the wrong thing, but I just wanted to check up on you to make sure everything was all right.”

  “And what were you going to do if it wasn’t all right?” I asked sceptically.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  I gritted my teeth. “I went on a date with you in the exact same circumstances and you didn’t think that I wouldn’t be all right. You’ve been on around twenty dates like that in the last months. I know because you’ve told me all about them.”

  “I know,” he stated quietly.

  “And now?” I went on. “Now I finally tell you about one of my dates and you do this to me? Not fair, Callum.”

  “I know. What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked earnestly.

  What could he do? Take me to bed and make me happy? Date me and make me even happier? Agree to move in with me, love me for eternity, and make me the happiest man on earth?

  Instead I said, “What do you want to do, Callum? I’m really confused here.”

  “I want to make you happy,” he said, and I jumped, startled that he’d pulled the exact word from my head. Did he want to do the other stuff I’d thought of too? “I like when you’re happy. Like when we’re discussing a movie or a book, I can hear the happiness in your voice. When you rang me from the hospital the other night, I was worried about you, because you didn’t have that happiness in your voice and I wanted to bring it back. I loved when you hung out with the boys and me. You were happy then. Even the next morning when you were suffering through a hangover, I could hear the happiness in your voice. I don’t know why.”

  Why? I thought it was obvious. I was in love with him, and even when I had a hangover I still liked being with him. I tried to deflect. “You were imagining things if you thought I was feeling happy that morning.”