Abroad: Book One (The Hellum and Neal Series in LGBTQIA+ Literature 2)

by Liz Jacobs

  “Uni’s fine,” he said as he traced the shape of a Victorian building across the street on the glass. “So what’s going on?”

  He could tell when she realised he was onto her. “Everything is fine,” she began. “I’ve just been a bit concerned about Al.”

  Dex breathed out. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “He’s just not been himself lately, since the move, and I can’t seem to get him to talk to me.”

  Dex could well picture this. His mum was the kindest woman in the world, but she could be a steamroller. Subtle she was not. Every time Dex had a problem, she was full-steam ahead with questions and suggestions. He could imagine how spacy, sweet Al was taking this sort of parenting. Probably with a lot of terror.

  “Do you want me to ring him?” he asked. “Have a chat, maybe?”

  “Would you, love?” She sounded so relieved. Poor Mum. “I just worry, you know, with you gone, and your dad and I working all the time. We do what we can, but with changing schools, too. You know how it can be.”

  School. Dex had somehow managed to endure a relatively small amount of school-related crap while growing up, largely due to the growth spurt at thirteen that put him head and shoulders above most others before their balls dropped, but it had been enough. Al was small, he was weird, and he was a new kid after his dad’s job moved them from Brum to Cheltenham, of all places. Of course he wasn’t adjusting well. Dex should have realised.

  “’Course I’ll talk to him. I could visit over the weekend.”

  He’d have to rearrange his work shifts and possibly do the bulk of his reading on the trains, but he could do it. If he got back on Sunday, he’d still have a chance to pop by the library for the reserved materials. No, wait, he could do it beforehand. Right.

  “No, no, it’s all right. It’s not quite so dire yet, you know, I don’t want to pull you away from your life, love.” She sounded sure, and Dex realised he was relieved. He didn’t want to miss out on going out with everyone, for one. The guilt crept up, but he tamped it down.

  He turned around to face the other side of the corridor and caught a dude blatantly checking him out. He grinned despite himself, then looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to concentrate on Mum. “All right, if you’re sure. I’ll give him a ring later tonight. See what’s up.”

  “That would be wonderful.” She sounded like she was smiling again. “Well, my break’s nearly over, I best get back. Send love to Izzy and everyone, will you?”

  “Sure thing. Love you, bye.”

  “Bye, love.”

  They hung up at the same time. His mum could talk his ear off most days, but she never lingered on good-byes, which he appreciated.

  He cast a glance the dude’s way, thinking about what all his friends had said about getting his rocks off as part of the whole post-Michael recovery process. The dude looked back and actually raised one eyebrow.

  Why the fuck not.

  Dex tipped his head towards the stairs, then held up a finger in a universal back in a mo gesture and jogged back to grab his stuff. There was a loo on the fourth floor of the library that barely got any use. He might as well get back on the horse.

  +

  He phoned Al later that night, making sure to do it once he was completely post-afterglow.

  Al picked up on the fourth ring, just as Dex was getting ready to leave him a properly cheerful message. “Hey.” Dex’s heart sank at the sound of Al’s voice. Mum wasn’t kidding. He sounded awful.

  Dex put on his cheerful voice anyway. “Hey, kiddo, just wanted to see how you were. Haven’t talked in a while.”

  “Mum tell you to call?” Al asked, flat.

  “No! Okay, yeah, but look, I was gonna phone you anyway. How are you?”

  “Ugh, I’m fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?” Al had never sounded less like himself, but also, he was fourteen. Dex remembered himself at that age, with not a little bit of guilt at how horrible he’d been. It was a toss-up, really, if Albert’s attitude was down to adjustment difficulties or just being a teenaged tosser.

  “Well, I just want to know what’s happening in your life. It’s been a while.”

  Al breathed into his phone long enough that Dex zoned out on watching a single GIF of a cat falling off a table for several hundred loops or so. Then Al said, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just want to be left alone.”

  Dex breathed in. Maybe he should go home this weekend, and fuck Nineties Night. He’d already successfully pulled and broken his sexless streak. His friends could get along without him.

  A tiny, horrible voice in the back of his head said, But Nick. But Nick nothing. This wasn’t a thing.

  “You want Mum and Dad to leave you alone, or?”

  “Who else?”

  Christ, this kid was not okay. Dex’s heart sank in his chest. “Just wondering, mate, don’t bite my head off.”

  “Sorry.”

  Even worse. “I’ve been thinking about visiting, what if I—”

  “No, we’ve got plans this weekend.”

  Dex’s heart sank even more. Al had never before refused a chance to see him, not the whole time Dex had been in London. He’d beg him to visit every now and then, take him out, just the two of them. What was happening with this kid?

  “Well then, I’ll come the following weekend.” He tried not to let his worried annoyance come through, but it was hard going.

  “Fine.” Al sounded resigned.

  Dex opened up the British Rail site to start looking at bloody tickets. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  This was not what his mum had in mind when she asked him to help. He was utterly useless. “Look, let’s talk about something else. Have you been drawing much?”

  “What are you, Aunt Lottie? Read any good books lately? Come off it.”

  “Jesus Christ, I’m trying to make conversation. That’s what people do.”

  “Well, it’s annoying. I haven’t got anything to talk about. My life’s boring.”

  “Why is it boring?” Dex went for that opening with a desperate sort of charge.

  “It just is, fucking hell.”

  “Whoa, language.”

  “Are you serious right now?” At least Al sounded a little more alive.

  “No, sorry, right, go on. Boring life. Why?”

  “Because I’m fucking fourteen and not allowed to do anything fun, why do you think? Was your life full-on while you were in school?”

  Dex had always done his best not to remember. After he’d come out, things got both better and not. Mostly it had felt like a waiting game. But Dex had also always had his feet planted firmly on the ground. He’d had friends he could trust, and hell, he’d even had a boyfriend for a whole month once. Dex had been all right.

  His family had always known Al was different. Dreamier, more fragile. But he’d been such a happy kid. This was breaking Dex’s heart. “Well, I suppose,” he said.

  “Yeah, so,” Al grumbled. “Can’t all be living it up in London, or whatever. Anyway, Mum’s calling for dinner, I’ve gotta go.”

  Al was awful at lying. “Wait, Al—”

  “What?”

  “Look, just. Call me whenever you want. Or, like, text. Or email. Whatever, just keep in touch, all right? I miss you, Palbert.”

  Al was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, all right. Miss you too, Ambidexter.”

  “All right, go. Talk to you soon. Love to Mum and Dad.”

  “’Kay, bye.”

  Al hung up, and Dex admitted his attempt to reach out to his brother had been largely unsuccessful.

  +

  Nineties Night was full-on by the time they tottered over from the bar. Dex had vaguely wondered if they’d even find the place. This being Shoreditch, he had half expected to have to take three turns, look for a nondescript fire escape, and pull on a rope just to get through the door, at which point they’d probably end up in someone’s living room with a dude in a fedora manning an iPhone, but in the end they found the place n
o problem. It turned out to be a proper club and everything.

  Izzy had taken charge of everything, in fact, including making sure that Nick made it out with them. The guy had exhibited every sign of avoiding this whole business, as far as Dex could tell, but Izzy was Izzy, and so Nick now trailed behind them looking only slightly shell-shocked and already a pint in.

  Which was good, because maybe it would relax him. Dex still felt a bit weird, having had to go up to Nick’s room and drag him out. Izzy had flung open Nick’s tiny wardrobe while Nick looked properly mortified and picked out his outfit for him. To give Izzy credit, it was a nice outfit. Dex’s skin had prickled in a way he hadn’t liked when Nick, previously decked out in a loose combo of T-shirt and trackie bottoms, emerged from the bathroom wearing skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt. He really was fucking small, but Dex had sort of zeroed in on his angular shoulders, stark collarbones, and small waist, and, well, then it had been time to get the fuck out of Nick’s tiny, weirdly neat room and get some fucking air.

  It took a while for them all to file through the club door, and then, like a startled flock of birds, they all dispersed without a single word. Dex managed to hold onto Izzy, who was already making a beeline for the bar across the dance floor. Nick caught up with them both and was busy gazing all around him.

  Then it was just—madness. Blur was sort of a good soundtrack to this, he thought as they pushed their way to the bar amidst a grinding crowd. Blue, red, and purple lights chased each other all over the walls and the ceilings and the faces all around him, and Dex was relatively out of breath by the time they got in line for a drink. Before he could think about it too much, he twisted around and grabbed Nick’s hand to pull him in alongside him and Izzy before the crowd swallowed him up and they had to call out a search party for one lost American.

  Nick mouthed something that looked like thanks as he teetered into place, and Dex shrugged, releasing his hand.

  “No problem,” he said when he remembered Steph’s dire warnings to be nice. And just like that, he was rewarded with a slow, tentative smile. He was pretty sure it was the first time Nick had smiled at him, personally, and it did things to Dex. Undeserved, uncalled-for things that forced a smile from him right back as he stared at Nick’s full mouth and heard filthy thoughts begin to clamor for attention inside his head.

  God.

  Where was that drink?

  He gave Nick a shaky, acknowledging sort of nod and turned away, pretending to be busy getting the bartender’s attention. Izzy was obviously already there, leaned full on the bar in between two other girls, her red hair changing colours under the vivid spotlights. She gave Nick his lager, all business, and ushered the three of them out of the way of those still in line. She’d got herself some sort of fruity cocktail, which she only ever did in clubs. She always said she liked that sort of buzz in very specific situations. Most people just went for shots, but Izzy was a woman all onto herself.

  “All right!” she yelled when they found a spot along a wall. “I am drinking half of this, and then we’re going dancing! Cheers!” She clinked her glass with Dex’s bottle, which was already on its way to his mouth and promptly collided with his teeth. “Soz!” She laughed, completely unrepentant.

  Dex let his Corona do the soothing. He glanced over at Nick. He wasn’t even paying attention to them. Instead, he was taking a long pull of his drink and watching the dance floor in a way Dex couldn’t quite figure. In the shifting half-dark he looked even more fey, his long eyelashes fluttering, his throat working to swallow the drink. He was sort of moving, just a little, to the beat. Dex was certain he had no idea he was doing it.

  When he looked back at Izzy, she was giving him a side-eye. He raised his eyebrows at her. What? She shook her head and shrugged, which was her signal for nothing yet, and he leaned down until he could yell, “Go find a boy to pull” in her ear.

  She laughed and shoved her cold glass into his free hand, then yelled back, “You too!” before whirling away.

  Well, great. Now he was responsible for her drink as well as his. He sucked on her straw and nearly vomited. He washed it down with Corona and decided that Izzy had given up her right to this drink the minute she forced it on him. He set it down, then drank half of his beer. He desperately wanted to be out there, too, but politeness dictated he stay with Nick. Fuck. Did he really have to? This was a cockblock in more than one way.

  “You can go, you know!” Nick shouted over the din, still not really quite looking at Dex. “I’m gonna be fine.”

  Dex gave him a look to make sure he wasn’t lying. Maybe Dex wasn’t giving him enough credit. Besides, he now had express permission to fuck off politely. He should take advantage of that, right?

  He leaned down until his lips were sort of close to Nick’s ear and said, “You sure?”

  Nick nodded, then glanced up until their eyes met. Even on the edge of things, Dex sweated in the chaos. “Totally. I’ll just finish my drink.” Nick lifted it as if to illustrate his point, and that was good enough for Dex. It was weird how his flat American accent contrasted with his intricate face.

  “Well, thanks, man.” Dex pushed away from the wall and gave him one last look, but Nick was already watching the mass of humanity on the floor, so Dex took the chance to escape.

  He had to stop this madness anyway. He barely even knew the guy, it was purely physical, and even then probably mostly out of desperation.

  He shoved his way into the crowd and lost himself in other bodies for the next several songs.

  7

  Nick was sweating profusely. The club was loud and overwhelming, and he found himself mesmerized by it against all odds. It was easy to lose himself in the crowd, easy to become member and witness all at once. He had almost been happy to see everyone disperse, even Izzy and Dex, after they rescued him by the bar. Without anyone watching, he felt his shoulders unwind.

  He was at a club and he had no desire at all to leave. It was amazing. He finished off his beer and stood on the edge of the dance floor just bopping to the beat a little, letting the unfamiliar songs take him places. No one was watching him. That was the miracle letting him loose, allowing him to think, I can do this. I got this. Zoyka would be so proud when he told her. He swayed more, kept his eyes closed, got into it. Got lost in it.

  He had talked himself in and out of coming tonight a thousand times over the course of the week. It was just not him. It wasn’t. He didn’t do this. The closest he’d ever come was a high school dance, and that had been such torture, he’d been the guy who left first.

  He had mulled tonight over again and again, come up with so many scenarios as to what could possibly go wrong that he got sick of himself, shut the process down. He hadn’t told his sister about it at all, just so she wouldn’t have a chance to talk him into it. But then Izzy’s text had come through while he was deep in The Pickwick Papers, and before he could think of an adequate way to decline she was banging down his door, Dex in tow.

  Dex. Another problem Nick had contemplated numerous times over. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from the next time he saw him.

  He definitely hadn’t been expecting to see him on the other side of his door, looking possibly more uncomfortable than Nick as Izzy filled his room with her presence and threw all of his clothes around like his own psychotic personal stylist. He was beginning to suspect he was in over his head when it came to knowing her, but it comforted him.

  If they didn’t want him around, would they go to all this trouble?

  Nick smiled to himself and pumped the air when “Rhythm Is a Dancer” started up. He’d even known this song before they came to the States. God, he hadn’t heard it in years. People around him hollered and whooped, and he joined in, feeling outside of himself for the first time in a while.

  It wasn’t until he was out of breath and screaming along to “Jump Around” that he felt an arm wrapping around his waist from behind and yelped.

  Someone laughed in his ear—a girl—a
nd when he twisted around to look, he came face to grinning face with Natali. Immediately he tensed up, too aware of how clammy and sweaty he was and how ridiculous he must have looked from the outside. This. This was why he hadn’t wanted to come. He began to pull away, but Natali slung both arms around his neck and pulled him in.

  “I fucking love this fucking song!” she yelled in his ear, and relief, hot as lava, poured through his whole system. Something about the way she clearly hadn’t cared that he’d been jumping around like an idiot made it so much easier to yell back, “Me too!” then close his eyes and jump up and down with her. He could do this. He could.

  So he did.

  +

  A while later, he had managed to get himself another drink. How, he had no idea. His legs were killing him, he was completely out of breath, he was probably so red in the face that he looked like a cartoon, but somehow he had slunk in between two people at the bar and actually got the bartender’s attention, which was a first for him. It was the same dude who’d served Izzy earlier, and when he saw Nick, he jogged over and gave him a grin that took Nick aback. He managed his order and paid like a normal human, and acknowledged in his mind that the look he’d received may have been skirting close to flirty.

  He wasn’t dealing with that, so he made his way to a relatively empty spot, and the lukewarm beer tasted like manna from heaven. He felt liquid, fuzzy-headed and lovely. He was ridiculously pleased with his current life choices. Pleased that he had successfully danced at a club without anyone pointing at him and laughing, pleased that he’d been able to dance with Natali and not flip out.

  “Ohhh my God, I am fucking knackered.”

  Nick jolted and looked over to where Izzy had sidled up next to him. Her hair was a wild mess around her head, her top falling off one shoulder. Her bra strap looked red, but it might have been the spotlights messing with him. When he looked beyond her, he caught sight of Dex making his way over to them through the throng.

  He looked … glowy. It was strange to think that, probably, and maybe everyone looked glowy to Nick just then, but he appeared relaxed and happy and just a little rumpled and sweaty. Not like Nick, who was a soggy mess. Nick tipped his head back against the wall and took a sip of his drink. Dex had great legs, he decided. Slightly bowed, steady, long. Lean. His jeans looked really good on him.