by Renae Kaye
He laughed. “I know I was feeling happy. I don’t know why, but being with you makes me happy.”
My stomach churned. It was like feeding a starving man, only so he’d live a couple more days for you to watch him suffer. I was sticking to the “just friends” rule, but he was making it hard.
“I think that’s one you need to figure out for yourself, Callum.”
“I have figured it out,” he said, and my heart stopped. “I figured out that you’re a great friend. And I was happy because you were with me and the boys, and all my friends were together. It was a great morning.”
I closed my eyes against the glare of the sun and tried to stop the prickle of tears. It was hard. My stomach was cramping and shooting pain through me. The man I loved thought I was just a great friend.
When I didn’t reply, he said, “And I know what I did was wrong, and I’m really sorry for that, Ed. So I’m apologising and promising never to do it again.” When I was still silent, he said, “And I’ll even watch Wolf Creek to make it up to you, on the condition you watch it with me.”
“No way,” I immediately said. “I haven’t been able to watch that the whole way through. It scared the piss out of me. I’m not watching.”
He laughed, and listening carefully I thought I could hear a note of happiness in his laughter. Did I put that there? “Great. Then it’s the one movie we can watch because you haven’t seen it all the way to the end and don’t know how it finishes. How about you come over my house on Friday night. Steve’s working. He’s a singer. Does pub gigs mainly, so he’s always out on Friday and Saturday nights until late, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”
I opened my eyes wide at that one, copped the full glare of the sun, and went red-blind. Callum was inviting me over to his house to watch a movie. Just him and me? In a house where there was no one else and a nearby bed?
Despite all my protests that I was through with him, my heart began to pound. “Okay.”
~~~~~~~~
Tammy tried to talk me out of it. I told her I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t expecting anything other than nightmares for a week. Watching a movie based on the true story of a psycho who kidnapped three hitchhikers was sure to affect me. I’d only managed to watch an hour of the movie before I’d given up last time.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Ed?” Tammy asked sadly.
I gave her the truth. “Because being just friends with Callum makes me happier than being on a date with any of the other guys I’ve tried in the last six months.” She gave me a forlorn smile and I chuckled. “Besides, I’ve run out of willing victims to watch movies with me. Most of my other friends just want to watch a movie and enjoy it. You’re the only one who seems to be able to tune me out when I start analysing it. Callum actually debates stuff with me, so it’s fun.”
Knowing that he’d have nothing for me to drink—and hoping the alcohol would help with getting through the movie—I bought myself a bottle. Callum didn’t live too far from a Chinese restaurant that did takeaway, and he said we could walk down and grab some food. I’d also picked up some snacks to munch—a great distraction technique when a movie was a little intense—and if I cleaned and trimmed “down there” before I went, it was nobody’s business but mine.
The minute Callum opened the door with a grin on his face, I knew I was destined to be dateless for years. Now that he’d mentioned it, I could feel the happiness spreading through my body. I was aware of him with every part of me. My lips were stretched wide in a grin, my heart beating a little faster, my brain scrambling with all the things I wanted to say to him, my nose filled with the scent of whatever cologne he’d put on, my fingertips tingling with wanting to make physical contact, my legs slightly weak. It was a high, and Callum was the drug.
He invited me in and we spent an hour chatting about nothing. His work, my work, his week, my week. It was catching up on the news while we got settled to watch the movie, of which he’d specially gone out and bought the DVD. We chose a number of dishes from the Chinese restaurant menu, and Callum phoned and placed the order. I asked about the boys and he told me about the losing basketball game from Wednesday night. Apparently they were missing Brendan’s skill on the court. Callum asked about Tammy and the bee sting, and I updated him as we strolled down to the shopping centre to pick up our meal.
Back at his house we settled down to watch the movie. “Have you seen this?” I asked, as he hadn’t actually said he hadn’t.
“Nope. You can tell me about all the fun stuff as we go.”
I gulped. “I didn’t watch the end. I don’t know how it goes. The first hour was good, and well directed. I liked it.” The movie started, opening with a chilling statistic about how many people go missing in Australia and are never seen again. It was a sign of things to come.
“What happened after an hour?” Callum asked.
The movie was showing some of the best things about Australia. The sunny, sandy beaches, the hot weather, the friendly people. It was a pity that within sixty minutes people were going to change their mind about it. “The psycho came out to play,” I warned.
And so we both became enthralled in the movie. We met the three reckless hitchhikers, destined to have their lives cut short—I assumed they died, anyway. It was a movie about a killer. Then the loveable larrikin of Mick appeared on the screen. He appeared harmless and a bit like that dopey uncle you hoped you didn’t have to sit next to at Christmas. Knowing he was the killer made every line even worse.
I grabbed my wine, curled my feet up on the couch, and leaned into Callum for strength. The movie was showing a campfire scene, which I hated. The flickering shadows made it seem even more sinister. Mick said his obligatory cheesy line, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Callum went stiff and lunged for the remote, pressing Pause and jumping to his feet. “Fuck. That’s even crueller,” he cried as he stalked to the kitchen. “He’s going to kill them, and he’s telling them about it?”
“That’s what makes him a sadistic killer,” I said.
Callum got another beer, then came and sat back down next to me. “This is going to be bad,” he predicted. “Okay. I’m making a mental note never to trust a mechanic again.”
He pressed Play. The deliberately dark and shaky camerawork made the tension even worse. You wanted to see what was going on, see where the killer was, see the danger, but as the viewer, you never could. It made you jump at every shadow and fear every corner. I leaned against Callum again. To my surprise he put his arm around me and clung tight. I could feel the tension in his body and knew that my own mimicked his.
“Shit,” he whispered a couple of times.
As the killer began his “play” in earnest, the blood started to flow on the screen. It was a bit gory, but never overdone. And it looked bloody real.
When the innocent passing motorist appeared on the screen, my heart sank. “Oh, no. Keep driving,” I urged the poor man. I put my hand up to my mouth and pressed closer to Callum. His other arm came around me and he rested his chin on my shoulder. I shook my head. I needed to do something with my hands, so I tucked them around Callum’s thigh and squeezed.
Mick was one sick bastard.
Then the glimmer of hope came at the end, only to be dashed by the cruel words that flashed on the screen, deliberately in old typewriter font like a police report. And Mick walked into the sunset.
We sat there in frozen horror as the credits played.
“That’s it?” Callum cried. “He got away with it?”
I blinked. “Well, I know there’s a Wolf Creek 2, so I guess he’s back.”
“But—”
“It’s based on a true story,” I said.
“I don’t like that he got away with it,” Callum said stubbornly.
I sighed. “Well, firstly, in order to be a serial killer, you do need to get away with it, at least once. And secondly, he didn’t get away with it forever. It’s loosely based on the story
of Ivan Milat, and he was eventually captured.”
Callum sighed. “Well, I’m not watching number two. That was too gross and too fucking real.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And I can’t work out if the director or the serial killer is more of a woman hater.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a good technique,” I explained, “to show the violence to the women in the movie. The reader—or in this case the viewer—will always be more horrified and more sympathetic about violence to women, as they’re seen as the weaker sex. As a society, we’re brought up to believe women should be protected. Therefore we’re more shocked to see a woman hurt than a man. It adds to the movie.”
We talked about tension-building techniques of movies, and before I knew it, it was late. I looked at the clock and then looked outside through Callum’s kitchen window. It was dark out there and I had to drive home. Exactly like those three people in the movie.
Callum obviously had the same thought as me. “When was the last time you had your car serviced?”
I scoffed. “I’m a poor English teacher with a need for alcohol. Do you really think I have enough money to service my car regularly?”
I wondered if they would find my body quickly or not at all.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider staying here tonight?” Callum asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Where would I sleep?”
Callum at least had the sense to look abashed. But he still said, “You can sleep with me.”
“Sleep-sleep?” I shot back quickly. “Or more than sleep?”
His cheeks went a little pink. “I’d like it if it were more.”
I didn’t bother lying to myself that it was what I had hoped for. Desperate men did desperate things. “And will that change anything between… us?” I asked.
Callum looked at the ground. “I still just want to be friends, Ed. But I liked the sex with you too.”
That stung.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. As long as we call the boundaries. Friends and sex.” The beginnings of a smile began to break across Callum’s face. I had one more reminder for him. “And you still don’t have a say in who I date.”
It was satisfying to see him frown at that. But I was too involved in other things. I was about to take Callum Brown to bed.
~~~~~~~~
Chapter Nine
What do you do when the guy who told you he just wanted to be friends can’t get enough of you?
If you’re an arsehole like me, you gloat silently.
The night following our viewing of Wolf Creek, Callum picked me up and we once again went to Justin and Rhys’s house. Brendan was absent due to family obligations. I was welcomed like an old friend. The TV was once again playing the football, the beer fridge was once again full, and Justin rang for pizza just like last time. I’d brought my own bottle of wine so I wouldn’t use Justin’s up, but he seemed a little offended at that.
“The wine is there. It’s just going off. You may as well drink it. Next time don’t bring anything.”
I drank a little less this time, not wanting to experience that hangover for at least another month.
When Rhys started snoring on the lounge, Callum hauled me to my feet.
“Uber time?” I asked.
“Nah,” Callum said. “Brendan and I regularly crash here. This place has four beds and I’ve claimed the black-and-white room as mine. Brendan gets the one with the pandas and bamboo plants printed all over the cover. You don’t want to sleep under pandas. That’s truly weird.”
We helped Justin dump all the dirty plates in the sink and picked up all the empty beer bottles. Then Justin helped his brother to bed while Callum led me to the black-and-white room and closed the door. I frowned in confusion.
“Wha—? I thought there was a spare bed?”
“There is,” Callum said as he hauled me close to him. “We’re just not going to use it.” Then he kissed me. I willingly kissed back and sank my fingers into his hair. Without losing the kiss, Callum walked me backwards and we sank together down on the bed.
“Are you sure?” I whispered, already diving my hands under his shirt. “Justin will know.”
Callum flattened me to the bed and kissed my jaw. “I don’t care. You were right. It’s time they realised me being gay could mean that I have a boyfriend they see. And they can realise that gay men do have sex.”
I thought this over—much later. Later, after Callum and I had made love and were lying in a sweaty heap under the covers I’d just had enough energy to pull over us. Callum was in what I was coming to think of as his favourite cuddle position—using me as a pillow. This time I was on my back, so his face was sticking wetly to my chest and my hand was able to trace the muscles of his shoulders. Callum had fallen almost immediately asleep, but now I was wide awake, thinking over his words.
Was Callum’s stumbling block to finding a boyfriend… his friends? Maybe it had nothing to do with Callum’s feelings or how his dates acted. Maybe it was that he didn’t think the men he was dating would fit in with his social group. Maybe it was embarrassment of his friends? Maybe it was embarrassment of his dates?
The fact that Callum had seen fit to introduce me to his friends, even though he knew that they’d discover we’d been on a date, was… odd, then. As was the fact that he kept bringing me back to be with his friends.
And now the fact that he was choosing to share a bed with me when there was another bed going spare, which his friends would realise.
The thoughts swirled around in my head until I didn’t know whether to be hopeful he was feeling something for me, or insulted that he was using me.
Whatever the reason behind him thawing to me, I knew I wanted to push it. So that week I asked him what time his basketball game started on Wednesday night, and turned up to watch.
~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Ed!”
I turned at the sound of my name, which barely carried over the constant thump of basketballs on the wooden courts and the accompanying squeaks of shoes. I was looking around for Callum—he’d told me his team wore red-and-black uniforms—and saw Brendan waving to me. He’d saved me a seat on the bleachers next to him. I climbed to the second row and sat down.
“Thanks, Brendan,” I said as I settled. “I really didn’t know if I was in the right place.”
“No probs,” he remarked happily, giving me a bit of a bump with his shoulder. “It’s good to have some company. I can’t play for at least another two weeks.”
I looked around at the other spectators. The wives and girlfriends, I surmised. One woman had a very young baby that was wrapped up in a blanket. Another I thought looked pregnant. Two guys were sitting up the very top of the bleachers and talking to each other, definitely apart from the crowd. One woman was talking to another, and they had to be sisters. There was a very bored-looking guy with them. I assumed one sister had a partner on the court, and the other sister had dragged her significant other, screaming and kicking, to the game.
On court, Callum was warming up with the others. Four guys stood at intervals along the three-point line and threw at the board, while two guys stood under the basket and fed the balls back out to them. I glanced at the other team. They were in black and white, and they seemed to have a height advantage on our guys.
“Tough team to beat?” I asked Brendan.
“Nah. They’re slowpokes. Justin will run rings around them. Just you wait and see.”
Two referees in all black stepped onto the court. Justin broke off his practice to meet them in the middle for a coin toss. Callum turned and looked up into the crowd. He saw me, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up. I grinned back. It was enough for me. He didn’t need to blow kisses.
I was happy enough with the blow job and kisses I got after the game. Once the game was finished, the boys congregated in the car park for a five-minute chat, then Justin wound things up and everyone dispersed to their cars. Callum looked at me and said, “Follow me home?�
�
I nodded.
That was it. There was no more discussion.
He came to my house on Friday and shared a meal with me, Tammy, and Todd, before I let him choose a movie from my collection for us to watch. Then he stayed the night, and all of Saturday too, before we went to his house so he could change, and then met the boys at Clancy’s Pub. It was loud and crowded, and it gave me an excuse to lean against Callum too many times. He didn’t seem to mind.
After six weeks, I didn’t know if he realised how many times the boys would refer to us as “Callum and Ed.” Brendan would say, “Just ask Callum and Ed to pick up some beer on their way here,” or Justin would say, “Callum and Ed—are you guys staying for lunch?”
And through it all, I had a happy little glow inside of me. It was a wary glow—waiting and always cautious in case the end was coming—but it was also a hopeful glow. I was careful, never introducing myself as more than just Callum’s friend, never assuming I was welcome to touch him whenever, and I always waited for his invitation to bed, or issued one myself.
We started meeting up during the week in the evenings too. The first time, I put off marking assignments for the thrill of his arms. The second time, I told him I had some work to do during the evening, so I ended up bringing the work with me.
I met Steve, Callum’s housemate, a former reality TV show star who was still hanging on to his glory days with the tips of his fingers. He seemed distant and preoccupied, and I had a feeling he was in self-destruct mode. It rolled off him in waves. I felt sorry Callum had to share a house with him. Steve glared at us as if we were doing something terribly wrong by sleeping together. It was a little hard to miss that Callum and I shared a bed, since I was there overnight.
Steve was snarky and made sly little digs when he could. At first I loathed him, but Callum simply shrugged and said that you got used to the attitude after living with him for a while. I got to see what he meant. Steve was a lot like my older male students—prickly and putting up a big front to scare off the world. Once you earned their trust, they relaxed enough to let you into their small circle of trustworthy confidants. After realising I only vaguely knew who he was, wasn’t going to fawn all over him, and had no interest in competing with him for the limelight, Steve stopped with the little digs… mostly.