Page 8

James

T he first two nights of the leadership camp are relatively uneventful. The camp itself is located just across the New South Wales border, in the hinterland, and the activities for the kids have ranged from trust-building exercises to physical stuff like high ropes, abseiling and kayaking. They’ve all been so exhausted by the end of the day that, after dinners served in the camp cafeteria, they’ve all crashed by curfew without any pranks or cabin swapping.

On the third and final night, though, someone must have broken out the sugar because the teenagers are all wired.

“Come on, Mister D,” Rose cajoles with a whine, “come do a campfire night with us. We’re going to roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories.”

“Yeah, and we’re not allowed to do it without supervision,” Mia adds, widening her big, blue eyes in the same way that wrapped me around her finger when she was just a baby. “Please, Dad? It’s a teambuilding exercise. And it’s our last night.”

Rose nods. “Plus Mister Martins said they’ll extend curfew for an hour to do it.”

Given that I have done all the same physically taxing things as the kids and I am twice their age and nowhere near as fit, I was really looking forward to crashing in the uncomfortable queen-sized bed allocated to me and Evan as the chaperones for the teenagers of B Block.

Also, I want it on record that my enthusiasm for bedtime has nothing to do with how much I enjoy waking up wrapped in someone else’s arms, even if that someone is my best friend and not a lover. It doesn’t. I swear it. Because that would be sad, wouldn’t it?

“Guys,” I begin, leaning into my best ‘stern dad’ voice, “I—”

“Hope someone else is supplying the marshmallows,” Ev appears from out of nowhere, slinging his arm around my shoulder. I lean into the embrace because to lean away would give away our ruse. (And definitely not because I’m soaking up any and all physical affection like a sponge.)

The kids in front of me cheer. Mia grabs my hand and tugs me back up the hill —seriously, why is the bonfire area uphill? — thanking me profusely.

“Don’t thank me,” I tell her, “thank Ev.”

“Thanks, Evvy,” she beams at him. I can’t see it so much as hear it, seeing as night has settled in and the only light around us is either the scattered solar lights dimly illuminating our path up the forested hill, or the slivers of moonlight spilling in between the overhanging tree branches.

“Yeah, well, campfire nights are the best,” Ev’s voice comes from somewhere not-too-far behind me. I can hear the smile in his tone, too. “I wasn’t gonna miss out.”

Except I’m missing out on snuggling, I think petulantly, and then almost fall over my own feet when I realise exactly what I just thought.

It’s one thing to admit that I like waking up in someone’s arms when we have unconsciously drifted together during the night. It’s something completely different to actively think about snuggling someone.

Not just someone — Evan.

My best friend.

I’m embarrassed by that. Not because he’s a man, but because he’s my best friend, and I’m so touch-starved that I’m sulking about missing his cuddles like I’m a five-year-old.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.

Maybe I need to break our agreement and get on Tinder.

My stomach twists with guilt, which I can’t quite pinpoint the source of. It must be just the idea of breaking a promise we made —a promise made with Mia’s enrolment in mind— because why else would I feel bad for wanting to hook up with someone for a night?

***

“Mister D?”

I open my eyes groggily, wondering when I dozed off. There’s just something about the smell and crackle of a fire that I find relaxing. Add to that the warmth drifting on the cool evening breeze, and I was doomed from the start.

“Hmm?” I ask, looking around for the rest of our group. I find them on the other side of the bonfire, and I’m not sure how to interpret the strange flutter in my chest when Ev catches my eye through the flames and winks at me.

“Mister B made everyone sit over there so you could nap,” Joey tells me, settling onto the plastic outdoor chair beside mine. “But it’s almost curfew, so I volunteered to wake you up.”

“Right.” I yawn and try to get my brain to re-engage. “Mia didn’t want to?”

Joey laughs and shakes his head, a lock of light brown hair falling into his eyes. He brushes it back as he says, “She and Mister B both said you’re super grumpy when you get woken up.” His smile turns soft and wistful, and he looks towards the middle of the fire. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Any of it. All of it. Having a boyfriend. Kissing a boy. Fuc—”

“Stop there,” I hold out my hand, glaring at him. “You are sixteen. You shouldn’t be…” He arches an eyebrow, and I think back to being sixteen and sigh. “Fine. But I’m not comfortable talking about sex with you.”

Or anyone. But especially not a sixteen-year-old.

I mean, having the safe sex talk with Mia was hard enough, and that was as clinical as I could possibly make it. This kid wants me to tell him how much I enjoy sex —with Evan , which I haven’t actually had— and that’s not only awkward, but inappropriate.

Still, I can’t help my curiosity. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

His cheeks are pink and he’s resolutely avoiding my gaze, staring into the fire as he shrugs.

“You’re only sixteen,” I murmur. “You’ve got years ahead of you.”

“You remember being my age, right? All I can think about is” —I clear my throat and he rolls his eyes— “ guys . And I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about it. Like, there’s the girls, but they don’t really get where I’m coming from, even if we are checking out the same people. And my parents…” His little scoff is heartbreaking. I never want Mia to feel that way about me. Or Evan . “So, yeah. I just…I hoped…”

My brain flashes back to being a teenager. To the angst and hormones and frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

To jerking off in Evan’s bed as he moaned in his sleep…

I try not to cringe at that memory. It’s resurfaced a lot over the past few weeks, making me squirm inside. We promised we’d never talk about it, mostly because Ev believed —and still believes— that we both just had wet dreams, uncontrollable and driven by our stupid, rampant hormones.

He was the only boy I ever thought of that way.

After that, I focused on girls. I liked girls. I still like girls. Women. That’s never changed. Over the years, I put what happened that night down as an anomaly.

But if I can use the experience to help this kid now, maybe I can start to reconcile it in my mind. Maybe it can become something good, not just something I’m a little ashamed of.

I find myself nodding and telling him, “My first kiss was…awkward. It was a first for both of us, so it was all tongues and weird neck angles and…” I laugh, cringing at how disappointed she and I both were when we parted. “It was bad . I thought, y’know, it would be like on movies and TV, but…yeah, nah. Terrible. So don’t go into anything expecting fireworks and magic, okay? It takes a bit of experience to get there. And chemistry.”

I’ve enjoyed kissing some girlfriends and hookups more than others. I’ve enjoyed sex with some more than others, too. I put that down to chemistry and comfort levels.

“But with Mister B? You’ve got the chemistry, right?”

My heart speeds up at the question, thump-thump-thumping so quickly and loudly that I’m surprised he can’t hear it. I don’t want to lie to this kid, but I also don’t want to burst his bubble, either. “We’ve been best friends for decades,” I answer vaguely. “We love each other, so it’s different.”

“How’d you know?”

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Know what?”

“That you love him.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“I’ve always loved him.” It’s a confession which resonates deep inside me, making my stomach twist again, because it’s not a lie, but it’s also not what he’s asking.

“I mean, how did you go from best friends to being in love?”

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“I—”

“All right, curfew time!” the lead teacher on the trip, Mr. Martins, blares through his trusty loudspeaker, saving me from either lying to Joey or confessing to our ruse. There are four little bonfires set up around the clearing, and teenage groans ring out around us. “You have fifteen minutes to use the facilities and get your butts in your designated cabins. Parents and teachers will be conducting their checks and there will be consequences for anyone breaking the rules.”

“I guess we should get everyone down and in bed,” I push to my feet and head towards the rest of our group with Joey hot on my heels.

“But you didn’t answer,” he protests.

“Answer what?” Ev asks, taking up a spot at my side.

“I asked how you went from being best friends to being in love,” Joey tells him as I’m ushering our group to walk down the path in front of us, feeling more like a sheepdog than a chaperone. I’ve done the headcount twice, and I call out a reminder for them to follow the lights on the path and walk carefully, studiously ignoring Evan’s eyes on me.

“Well,” Ev replies easily, slinging his arm around my shoulders and squeezing, “I’ve always loved him.”

“That’s what he said,” Joey sighs, “but I meant…how’d you go from best mates to—”

“Mating?” Evan suggests, and I jab my elbow into his ribs. “Ow!”

“He’s sixteen , Ev.”

“We were both thinking and saying way worse stuff at that age. Hell, we were doing —”

“ Eww ,” Mia chimes in from just ahead of us, thankfully cutting Ev off. “I don’t need to hear that.”

“Then don’t eavesdrop,” Evan sasses back.

“And watch where you’re walking,” I remind her.

In the moonlight, I watch her roll her eyes before she turns back to concentrating on making it back down the hill in one piece.

“So…?” Joey prompts.

“He’s like a dog with a bone,” I mutter, then hold up my index finger, “No bone, boner, or boning jokes.”

“Damn it,” Ev huffs. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I don’t want to get in trouble for being inappropriate with the children.” I scrunch up my nose. “Wait. That sounded wrong.”

Joey’s laughter is loud and infectious, if Evan’s response is anything to go by. “ So wrong, Mister D,” he agrees through wheezing laughter. “Mia, why didn’t you tell us how funny your dads are?”

“Because they’re embarrassing, not funny,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Take that back!” Evan demands. “ I am hilarious.”

“Dear God, you’re just as bad as the kids,” I tell him.

“But seriously,” Joey chimes in again, “how did you go from buddies to fu— uh —snuggle buddies?”

His words only make me think about how much I enjoy cuddling my best friend.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Well,” Evan shrugs, oblivious to my hitching breath, “it was kind of gradual, I guess? One day we just…connected…had a moment… whatever , and it felt… right .”

The strangest surge of emotion wells up inside me, bringing tears to my eyes and a longing that I just can’t comprehend. I swallow and clear my throat, blinking back the moisture, thankful for the darkness I was cursing on our earlier walk up.

“Chemistry and comfort, then,” Joey says as I have my moment. “Like you said earlier, Mister D.”

“Yeah,” my reply comes out a little strangled and I clear my throat again. Chemistry and comfort. Funny how I never thought of having those with Ev before. But I guess it’s not a lie. We do have those things. “That’s exactly it.”

“Well, damn,” he laments as he keeps walking. “I don’t think Tristan and I have those things.”

“He’s straight,” Mia calls back over her shoulder, and Joey huffs.

“Trust you to know that.”

Mia stops for a moment to glare at him. “Shut up.”

My ears perk up as my eyes narrow, and Evan gives me a squeeze. “Don’t,” he warns in my ear, his breath making me shiver like it always does. “She’s allowed to have some secrets.” Raising his voice, he says, “Keep moving. We’ve got ten minutes to get you all in and out of the loos and into bed.”

“I like it when you’re all authoritative,” I tease him, letting him know I’ll drop the topic of Mia and Tristan for now.

“I’ll remember that,” he replies playfully.