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jt

“S o, how did you go working with Quinn?” Trey asks, his arm draped heavily across my shoulders as we walk the corridors. Trey has this way of taking up all the space in the room. I am slightly more aware of the way we make others scurry from our path as we walk down the middle like we own it.

“What’s this?” Vince asks as he joins the two of us heading for the cafeteria.

“Just talking about our class science project,” Trey explains as Marco and Kye fall into formation. “JT got paired up with Quinn.”

“Queer Dayton?” Vince chuffs, pumping his eyebrows suggestively. Something sparks to life in my gut at those words whilst simultaneously setting off an unexpected flare of annoyance.

“Seriously, Vince,” I eyeroll.

“What? It’s just a play on words,” Vince grins back. “You know, cos he’s gay. Queer Quinn. It’s funny.”

“Funny how?” I return. “I don’t see the humour.”

“Don’t tell me you’re part of the outrage brigade,” Vince huffs at me. “It was just a joke.”

“Jokes should be funny,” I return, not quite ready to let this one slide for some reason. “Someone’s sexuality isn’t a joke.”

Trey is watching our discourse like a spectator, and I am pleased when he finally decides to butt in. “Yeah, bro. Not cool,” he says.

“Whatevs. Everyone is so damn sensitive these days, you can’t say a thing,” Vince just shrugs while I share a quick half smile with Trey. He squeezes my shoulder, and Marco says something, but their voices become lost in my head because I am suddenly focusing on Vince’s words, and I stumble my next step. Because Quinn Dayton is apparently gay and everything is feeling weird inside, like my blood stream is suddenly full of ants and I’m itching from the inside out.

Quinn likes guys. Quinn, the guy I have been obsessing over for the last few weeks is into guys. I wonder if he has a boyfriend. I wonder what they would look like together, how they would look holding hands. Kissing him maybe.

A surge of heat whooshes through my stomach at the thought and I quickly shake my head, not ready to investigate that response too closely. I mean, I’m not gay so I’m not sure why I’m thinking about it. Even if I wanted to be, I wouldn’t be allowed to be gay, not with parents like mine, so I don’t even know where these thoughts are coming from. Only that I need to ignore them and not think about them again.

Which is easier said than done. I can’t stop thinking about Quinn as I follow the boys into the cafeteria, claiming our usual table with the rest of our basketball bros and try to focus on eating my muesli bar. My eyes keep pinwheeling around the cafeteria, watching for Quinn, waiting for when he steps into the room. It’s nothing I haven’t been doing for the past few weeks, but I am definitely more aware of it now, now that I have actually exchanged words with him. Now that he’s actually seen me. Noticed me. Knows my name.

Quinn walks in, two friends on either side and an easy smile on his face as he shares a laugh. One of his friends stands closer than the other, bumping shoulders with Quinn and making something squeeze in my gut. Is he Quinn’s boyfriend? The guy with the long coppery hair and the easy smile?

I can’t stop watching, trying to work out their relationship by their interactions but I can’t tell. They’re definitely easy with each other and clearly have no concept of personal space as the guy with the copper hair squeezes Quinn’s bicep. I mean sure, it might just speak to their years of friendship, but I still feel my heart constrict.

“What are you looking at so intensely?” Trey suddenly asks, face close to mine as he looks in the direction I am staring. Right at Quinn and his group of friends, one of whom is still standing way too close to him.

“Nothing,” I return, forcing myself to look away as Trey studies me for a moment longer and I hold my breath.

“What’s he like then?” he asks.

“Who?” I say, panic squeezing me tight.

“Quinn. What’s he like to work with?”

“Oh, um, he’s okay I guess,” I squeak out. “Only exchanged half a dozen words with him though so I don’t really know.”

“You’re lucky you’re with him. He’s like genius level smart,” Trey grimaces. “I’m stuck with Millie Bourke, and I have no idea why Mr Peters thought that was a good idea. She’s hot as hell but she’s dumb as two bricks. We are going to be in trouble.”

I laugh at Trey’s imagery, mind tumbling back to thoughts of Millie Bourke and trying to work out whether I agreed with my cousin’s assessment of her. It had never crossed my mind to think about whether Millie was hot, but I guess she is conventionally attractive. I know she has massive boobs and always wears her shirt with the top buttons loose which explains her appeal to Trey. My cousin is many things and shallow is definitely one of them but at least he owns it.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I say encouragingly.

“She’s coming round to my house tomorrow after school,” he grins at me. I already know where this is going.

“Don’t forget it’s worth thirty percent of your grade,” I say anyway.

“Yeah but there’s always time to squeeze in a bit of fun while we’re at it. A term is a long time.”

“Ah, Trey. Never change,” I smile, nudging him with my shoulder.

“Pity you’re not with Chanel, huh,” Trey continues. “She’s certainly got eyes for you.”

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, hoping we can drop the topic.

“She was asking about you the other day. The girls are coming to watch the game on Friday, and she’ll probably come out after,” Trey adds, knocking me with his elbow. I ignore his suggestions.

“That’s good,” I manage, eyes back on Quinn as he and his group of friends leave the cafeteria, my gaze stuck on his retreating figure. I really need to know what the deal is with him and that guy with the long hair. Only how would I ever find out? It’s not like I can just ask Quinn if he has a boyfriend.

“You’re staring at him again,” Trey hums and my eyes snap back to my cousin.

“I’m not,” I protest.

“You were.”

“No, I was just trying to work out if they are together,” I drop. I’ve already been caught so I may as well make the most of the opportunity to sus out the details.

“If who are together?” Trey asks.

“Quinn and that guy he was with. The one with the long hair.”

“Jace? I don’t know,” Trey shrugs. “Could be. Jace bats for Quinn’s team so it’s probable.”

“Huh.”

Okay, that did not help. Not one bit. I think it was better not knowing and being able to devise my own scenarios than to actually have a guy to imagine Quinn kissing. Nope, don’t want that image in my head and nor do I want to think about the reasons behind that too closely either.

***

Tuesday arrives. I have a swirly, anxious feeling sitting in my gut all day. I don’t have any classes with Quinn on Tuesdays. In fact, advanced science is the only class we share. I’m pretty sure Quinn is doing all the smart subjects which I try to avoid but I had to pick up a STEM subject and this one seemed my best bet.

I’m acutely aware of the hour as the day drags by, my anxiety manifesting in the way I can’t seem to sit still or stop touching my phone to check on the time every few minutes.

Trey is used to my slight neuroticism so he doesn’t comment. I wish he was just a tiny bit more nervous about the idea of having Millie Bourke over this afternoon, but he is as chill as a cucumber. I mean sure, Trey is no stranger to having girls in his bedroom. Pretty sure he lost his virginity in year ten, so this is nothing new to him.

Not me though. Not that I think of Quinn in those terms. At all. I just mean that I will be spending the afternoon with him — alone — and I am slightly anxious at the thought. After ten years spent living in Morlee my experience with stuff like this is somewhat, well, severely lacking. I know that much of this is down to me because it wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of offers from girls in school but still, I am very inexperienced with sex.

It’s just that today of all days, I seem to be acutely aware of it.

I wish I could stop thinking about Quinn like that. I don’t know what is wrong with me but it’s just him and the way he wears those grey pants that has me all hot under the collar. I can’t explain it. I’ve grown up around locker rooms and am no stranger to standing in an open shower with equally naked guys at my side. Never once have I imagined taking a peek at any of them before. I’m not even sure that’s what I’m thinking about when I look at Quinn.

Only that he makes my heart race in ways nobody else has ever done.

I mean, just today I walked past Quinn during lunchbreak and felt my heart both flutter and plummet. I didn’t even know that was medically possible. But the day is warm, and he was lying back on his elbows, sleeves rolled up, enjoying the sunshine. Once again, Jace was way too close to Quinn—his long, coppery locks catching the light, that cheeky smile out in full force as he leaned in, touching Quinn like it was second nature. I felt my teeth start to grind.

Why does that Jace get me so agro? I never even laid eyes on him before yesterday but something about him just annoys me.

I think it's his hair. It’s just too … pretty and I don’t like it. I wish he would just take those pretty, flowing coppery locks and stop touching Quinn like that. Is that too much to ask?

I’ve checked the route on Google maps to Quinn’s house fifty times already. I could probably walk there blindfolded at this rate but it’s slightly too far from school and we live in a very hilly area. I eventually ask Trey and he agrees to drop me off on his way home. Not that it’s on his way but Trey is cool about the fact I don’t have a car (or a licence) and will usually take me places.

I hope one of my parents can pick me up later on but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re too busy. They usually are too busy—at least for things that concern me.

My stomach is wedged up near my throat when I finally knock on the door of what I hope is Quinn’s house. Trey is idling on the side of the road in his red Nissan Silvia, and I feel his eyes on me as I wait on the wrong side of the door. Quinn lives in a nice part of town, and this is a really nice house—a narrow two storey building that looks reasonably new and is encased in white render and sandstone bricks.

I hear footsteps and my heartrate spikes just as Quinn opens the door, that amused smile on his face as he takes me in. I murmur a strangely stifled hello while waving goodbye to my cousin as Quinn holds the door for me.

I enter, unable to stop the slide of my eyes down Quinn’s body. He’s wearing a pair of light blue jeans that fit just right, while his black t-shirt perfectly complements his dark hair—slightly tousled, like he’s just run his fingers through it. Yep, definitely bedroom hair.

“You found the place alright?” he is asking me, but words are stuck in my throat and I have to clear it before I can speak.

“Yes. All fine,” I manage to get out, aware my voice has just risen a full octave.

But Quinn just smirks a lopsided smile and now I have a case of butterflies in my stomach to go with the sweaty palms and pounding heart.

“You want a drink or anything before we get started?” he asks, leading the way down a short hallway to the kitchen and open living room. The space is not huge, but I like it already. Quinn’s place is calm and neat and not full of children and stuff and the revolving door of strangers coming and going from my dad’s closed office.

“Um, only if you are,” I say, looking to him for guidance.

“I’ll make you a coffee if you like,” he suggests, turning those piercing blue eyes on me.

“Are you having one?”

“Sure, if it makes you feel more at home,” he smiles, stepping into the galley kitchen. It’s all white and bright in here and I follow behind him, eyes dipping to his ass that looks just as good encased in denim. Okay stop, JT .

“Well in that case I will,” I say, feeling my usually reliable confidence make a belated hoorah.

Quinn has a proper coffee machine, a cute Smeg one all dressed up in black and chrome and looking really intimidating. But Quinn knows his way around the machine and my mouth dries out as he grinds the beans and runs them through the machine. His hands are confident, and my eyes fix on the strong veins in them and I feel something throb.

He hands me a cup when he is done and I try not to flinch when his fingers touch me. I mean, it’s just fingers. Fingers that belong to Quinn, but still.

“You ready to go up?” Quinn asks and I just nod, words evaporated again. He grins at me and then leads the way, and I try so hard not to dip my eyes down his body as he walks up the stairs just above me. I am not successful in my endeavours, but I gave it my best shot and I think that’s what counts. At least that is what Coach Vizard says when he’s in a generous mood.

Quinn opens a door to the right of the landing and I follow, my heart spinning into overdrive when I find myself in his bedroom. I mean, of course we’re in his bedroom. Where else would we be? Not like I expected a dedicated study or a separate library or something.

But still, I can’t help my eyes fixating on the spacious bed that takes up the right side of the room, a luxurious soft blue quilt covering where he obviously sleeps. I feel my cheeks start to heat as I imagine him there and then pull myself together to find Quinn looking at me, a curious expression on his face.

“Your room?” I say, only clever comments allowed here.

“Yep,” he just grins, wedging his hands into his pockets. My eyes follow the movement and, oh now look, I’m staring at his crotch. I choke on my coffee.

“It’s nice,” I stutter, eyes watering.

“Thank you. Do you want to set up over here?” Quinn continues, making me I realise there is more to his room than just his bed as I discover the large corner desk built into the wall. There’s a door along the wall there too and I take a peek to see a nice, bright bathroom behind it.

“You have your own bathroom?” I ask, manners forgotten as I wander in for a closer look. Quinn must be really neat because his bathroom is super clean, a nice space in whites and greys and wooden cabinets.

“I do,” he replies. “It’s just me and my mum so we both get our own. Hers is better.”

“Wow. I have to share a bathroom with five people,” I tell him, not sure why.

Quinn doesn’t reply and I am aware he is watching me as I sip on my coffee, taking in his really nice space. It’s so quiet here which is something I’m not used to with the slightly chaotic state my house is always in. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother and sister, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet every now and then. I also struggle with the constant stream of strangers in our house, but I wouldn’t dare raise that at home either.

“Suppose we better get started then, hey?” I finally say, moving closer to Quinn and the desk he is standing in front of. He has two chairs up here but one looks out of place and I wonder if he brought that one up just for me. My heart warms at the thought.

“Suppose so,” Quinn agrees. He takes a seat, and I slide into the vacant one, trying not to knock into him as I do. “Have you had any thoughts about how you want to do this?”

I pull my laptop out, realising that’s something I should have been doing but I had been too focused on coming to Quinn’s house to actually think about why I was going.

“Ah, no, not really.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’ve written down a few dot points about how we can start the project. I hope that’s okay.”

“Absolutely okay,” I reply, hoping he ignores my weirdly enthusiastic response.

Quinn grins again, that lopsided smile that does funny things to my stomach, and I wriggle in my seat. He opens a document on his laptop, and I have to shift my seat a little closer, entirely too aware of him as I lean in to read.

He starts talking through his dot points — which are a lot more like a complete project plan than anything els e— and it’s right then that I start to feel my inadequacies rise up. Quinn has carved the project up into a six-step plan covering an introduction to biomass, a research phase, a data collection phase, analysis on efficiencies, costs and environmental impact, and a basic outline for our class presentation. I feel completely at a loss.

“Wow. Um, okay that’s … wow,” I hear myself saying. “You’re um, you’re pretty smart huh?”

Quinn huffs out a laugh, his knee knocking into mine. I don’t move away because he is the one who knocked into me so I don’t feel responsible for that.

“I’m just kind of enthused about renewable energy,” he admits with a modest shrug. “I haven’t narrowed our research topic down yet as I wanted to wait for you before doing that.”

“Okay but I feel like you’ve got some ideas up in that brilliant head of yours so let’s hear it.”

His knee is still pressed up to mine and I admit it is short circuiting my brain a little bit which is worrisome as I know I need to be at my best here with Quinn.

“What are your thoughts on algae?”

“Algae?”

“Yeah, algae,” Quinn repeats. He pulls the laptop closer towards him and clicks on a page, bringing up a neat diagram on how algae can be converted into renewable fuels. I love a good diagram so I lean in, nodding my head as Quinn walks through the process and the way we could focus on this for our research. He is calm but enthusiastic and I already love this idea.

“Could we, like, maybe run some kind of experiment with this?” I mull, thinking through our options. “Isn’t there a biology aquaculture program at Evergreen that could lend us some algae and we could maybe, I don’t know, try and convert it into fuel?”

Quinn sits back in his seat, a slightly impressed expression on his face if I’m reading him right. “That’s actually a really great idea, JT.” My face flushes with pride.

We spend the next thirty minutes hashing out our plans. I’m so focused I don’t even notice the sound of the front door or the quiet footsteps ascending the stairs.

“Oh hello,” we hear from the doorway, both of us looking up in surprise. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“Hi, Mum. This is JT,” Quinn introduces, leaning back in his chair. Quinn’s mum is young, and her light brown hair is pulled into a messy bun. She’s wearing bright blue scrubs and rubber soled shoes which makes me think she’s a nurse. I remember Quinn saying she works shifts so this makes sense.

“Hello, Mrs Dayton,” I say, sending her a smile as she glances across at me, head cocked to the side.

“Oh please, Mrs Dayton is my mother. You can call me Amy,” she replies, a pleasant smile on her face that immediately sets me at ease.

“Okay,” I return.

She smiles at her son, obvious affection in her gaze before she turns to leave us alone but not before making an obvious point of opening the door wide.

“Doors open, Quinn,” she says.

“We’re not having sex, Mum,” Quinn says with an eyeroll that shouldn’t be sexy. “We’re working on a class science project.”

“You know the rules,” she just says, a smile on her face as she backs out of the room. But my mind has just caught up with their exchange of words and I feel my face involuntarily flush as heat shoots through me.

“Why would she think we’re having sex?” I choke out.

Quinn just shrugs, the movement casual yet sensual. “Well, in her defence it has happened before,” he says, moving his attention back to the laptop and picking straight up where we left off.

But not me. No, my mind has plunged straight to the gutter as those itchy little ants start to dance in my bloodstream and I can no longer concentrate. Quinn is talking about algae but here I am, just me, imagining him in this very room with another guy, probably on that nice blue bed behind us and it’s all I can focus on.

Quinn must realise my mind has gone missing because he eventually asks if I want to call it a day. I agree because I know I will be completely useless for any type of progress with where my mind is currently residing.

I have a strong feeling it will be there for a while to come.