I’VE seen him plenty of times before. Not in my classes, or the Queer Space. But in the refectory, or the bookshop. You don’t forget a face like that. One with a sneer that could say anything from “come and play” to “one step closer and I’ll bash you, faggot”.

The kind of face that sets off a cool shiver, like gentle fingers exploring your back, making every promise to the strange rumble that’s rising through your gut. The rumble I feel as I see him standing there, waiting to piss. Does he notice me, as I slip into a stall near the end of the row? Do I care? The last grad ceremony I went to lasted over three hours. There’s no way I’m going on that stage and accepting that certificate, cursing my bursting bladder through clenched teeth.

[showads ad=MREC]After the flush covers the sound of my zipping up, I notice something weird. The silence. Not that I’m the kind of freak who listens to people peeing of course, but surely I’d hear something? A flush. Running water at a basin around the corner. The creak of the main door. The only sound I hear is the turning lock as I open the stall, and the first thing I see is him, staring at me from the disabled stall at the end of the row.

I nod the silent “how’s it going?” nod you save for public bathrooms and wash my hands. This time, his loud cough breaks through the silence. I’m back looking at him before I know it, unable to take my eyes off that grim sneer. The little spark in his blue eyes as they pull nearer, until I can feel the warmth of his body almost touching mine. Except… he hasn’t moved an inch. His fingers slip harmlessly down my throat, teasing me between the buttons of my shirt as he pulls me closer. I reflexively wet my lips as if it could somehow wipe away my nervousness.

Do guys still do this? The masculine scent of him and the warm, inviting taste of his mouth say yes.

Holy. Fuck. Yes.

I push my hand up through his long, greasy hair, bound up like it always is with a cheap hair tie. I open the top button of his shirt, then another, enjoying the flatness of his chest, the fine strands of hair, the toughness of his nipples as I tug on one of them, earning the one thing I thought he’d never give me. A smile.

The main door creaks open and I panic. Where to go? Another stall? How should I know? I’ve never done this before! But he has. He must have, because he’s shoved me inside a stall and locked the door before I can make a sound. We’re both perfectly still, barely breathing until the threat passes and silence returns.

I fondle clumsily at his zipper, but he grabs my hands and puts them around his waist, letting me explore him. I savour his scent. His taste. Lapping up his energy, letting it warm every part of my insides as I struggle to stay quiet, save one little gasp of excitement, just loud enough to tease the bulge that’s taunting me through his jeans…

Mum always said that nice girls don’t tell, so I guess nice boys don’t either. I’m not sure if, having joined the league of exhibitionist gentleman, we still qualify as “nice boys”, but I’m pretty sure I don’t care. All that matters is that we both want more.

After the ceremony, he asks me my name. He never asks about my not having a dick, or how long I’ve been a man or any of that shit. With him, I’m just Andy. Andy and Matt, keeping each other company for a bit, before the next adventure.

Two weeks it lasts, before he moves to take a place with ANU. PhD in biochemistry. Who knew?

A week after our last time, I get a text. “Missing you.”

“Yeah, you almost did,” I reply. It’s a bit smug. He doesn’t answer, and part of me starts to worry if I’ve just blown off his best attempt at being sweet. Two hours later, I cave and follow up, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

The text is waiting when I wake up. “Take care, you.” Those are his last words to me. And the last thing I feel for him, is gratitude.

“Yeah,” I whisper, deleting his number. “You too.”

Entries for the 2015 Outstanding Short Story competition are open. Closing date is September 1. (Winners will be announced on September 27) For details, outstandingstories.net or become a fan on Facebook.

To read other short fiction pieces, click here.


**This article was first published in the September edition of the Star Observer, which is available to read in digital flip-book format. To obtain a physical copy, click here to find out where you can grab one in Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, Canberra and select regional/coastal areas.

[showads ad=FOOT]

© Star Observer 2021 | For the latest in lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex (LGBTIQ) news in Australia, be sure to visit starobserver.com.au daily. You can also read our latest magazines or Join us on our Facebook page and Twitter feed.