Chapter 4-2
1007 Words
“Hey, come with me.”
Darren had gotten used to this, and simply tipped his head back to stare at Rachel over the top of the sofa. Ever since he’d moved in, she’d decided she was free to come and go as she pleased. Whether he locked the door while he was at work or not—she obviously had a key.
So he didn’t argue, or ask what she was doing in his flat. He simply said, “Why?”
“You’re being boring and alone, and I’m alone and bored, so let’s watch The L Word and eat pizza.”
“I had pizza last night.”
“Let’s have Chinese, then.”
“I’m watching the football.”
“It’s not your team.”
“What’s my team?”
“I don’t know, but I’m saying it’s not your team, so come over.”
“It is my team.”
“Not anymore. Come on!”
“Urgh,” Darren said, but heaved himself off the sofa anyway. He was at a loose end without Jayden. He’d taken up boxing at a local club on Mondays and Saturdays, but it just didn’t fill the gap that going-to-Jayden’s, going-out-with-Jayden, dating-on-a-regular-basis-alone, and dating-on-a-semi-regular-basis-with-Paul-and-Ethan-crashing-in had left behind. Rachel, despite her habit of just appearing unannounced, was a welcome relief from the endless, boring evenings on his own. “I’m not watching The L Word.”
“You’re so gay.”
“I am happy to watch lesbians getting it on,” Darren said, “but frankly, I’m hungry and I’m bored and I don’t really feel like a wank.”
Rachel laughed. “I thought men were wired to always feel like a wank?”
“Urban legend,” Darren said dryly. “Where’s the Chinese, then?” he asked as he was re-deposited on her sofa instead of his.
“At the Chinese takeaway,” she said, plucking her phone out of its cradle on the wall. “Chang’s or Li Han’s on the high street?”
“Chang’s,” Darren voted. He’d gone with a few people on his training course, as a kind of icebreaker evening. It had been awkward, because one of the girls was blatantly after the job to get a policeman boyfriend and wouldn’t stop talking about their databases instructor, who was, it was otherwise generally agreed, a right ugly bastard. “They do wicked duck spring rolls. Try them.”
“Eh, I like the veggie ones,” Rachel said, dialling. “What do you want?”
“Whatever. Something in black bean sauce. And loads of it.”
“Duck?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Darren said.
“You’re a human dustbin, aren’t you?” Rachel asked, wedging the phone against her shoulder. Darren found the football on her TV and settled in. “No!”
“You can change it once you’ve ordered the food, wench,” Darren said flatly. He felt her scowling at him, but ignored it. He’d have to get used to establishing control over the TV; Jayden wasn’t interested in football either. (Mind you, he probably wasn’t interested in The L Word, come to think of it.)
“Okay, gimme that,” Rachel said once the food was ordered and the phone was down. “We’re not watching football. How was your day?”
“Crap.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, my housemate kidnapped me from my flat and refused to let me watch football.”
“Oh, shut up,” Rachel said. “How’s your boyfriend? Jayden?”
“Same as last week.” Mostly because they hadn’t spoken since last week. Jayden had been too busy to Skype at the weekend, apparently, but he’d been texting a fair bit, so Darren wasn’t too bothered yet. He had s**t to do, after all.
“Don’t you miss him?”
“Nope. Don’t you miss yours?” Darren parried. He wasn’t particularly interested—he was semi-sure Rachel was gay anyway, especially as she had the entire box set of The L Word under her bed—but he was even less interested in the film she’d switched over to. Something featuring, so far, no hot actor, no hot actress, and no explosions. In short: boring.
“I haven’t got a boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend, then.”
“I haven’t got a girlfriend either,” Rachel said quietly.
Darren shrugged. “Want one? I have insane single friends and colleagues.”
Rachel said nothing. When Darren glanced at her, she was picking at a cushion she’d pulled into her lap.
“Why the face?”
She flushed. “Um. I’ve…don’t laugh.”
“Okay.”
“I’veneverhadapartner.”
“Sorry?”
She went from pink to a fetching cherry-red. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or an anyone.”
“…Okay…”
Cherry-red remained for a stubborn minute.
“How old are you?” Darren double-checked, and cherry-red turned into a fierce magenta.
“Twenty-two,” she ground out. “It’s not like I’ve never been asked, Darren!”
He shrugged. “Well, whatever.”
“I’ve…you know. Never met anyone.”
Darren mentally rolled his eyes. He knew that tone, mostly from Jayden, very occasionally from Ethan having a queer moment. It was the I want to talk, but I don’t want to spell it out tone. The let’s have a conversation about this tone. Sighing, he switched off entirely from the boring film (it wasn’t hard to do) and twisted to face her.
“There’s nothing wrong with not meeting anyone,” he said carefully.
“No, I mean…it’s…I’m…” She went purple and pulled a long feather from the ragged-looking cushion. “You can’t laugh, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’masexual.”
“Rach, I can’t hear you when you just…babble at me.”
“I’m asexual.”
There was a short pause. Rachel was still staring avidly at the cushion; Darren didn’t really know what to say. Or, you know, what she’d said, really.
“As in…plants, or as in, not?”
“Um, the latter.”
“So you’re…not-s****l?”
“Yes.”
“…Meaning?”
“Meaning…meaning I don’t…you know, do s*x. I don’t…I’m not interested in it. I don’t…I don’t have a s*x drive.”
“…Okay, so…what, you’re never turned on?”
“No.”
“Or sexually attracted to people?”
“No.”
“Or anything?”
“Yes, Darren, I shag cats,” she said sarcastically, but she was chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. She looked tense, the lines tight in her face, every angle of her bony frame stiff. “No. Not anything. I mean, like…are you sexually attracted to anything in this room?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s me. All the time.”
“…Okay,” Darren said and ducked his head to peer at her. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Rachel mumbled. “Unfortunately.”
Darren frowned. “Rach? I’m not going to laugh, you know.”
She was still magenta and very definitely not looking at him.
“People like what they like,” he said slowly. “Or don’t. You are what you are.”
She clutched her cushion and bit her lip. “I’ve…people think there’s something wrong with me,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, well, f**k them,” Darren said, shrugging. “People think there’s something wrong with me. Doesn’t matter what they think.”
She eyed him. “Like what?”
Darren shrugged. “Like I’m a s*x maniac for being bisexual.”
“…People think I’m a prude. Or I was abused or something. Or I have hormone problems. Or I need fixing.”
“People are always going to think you need fixing if you’re not like them,” Darren said gently.
She took a deep breath and crawled across the sofa to hug him. She was bony and too tall but she cuddled up and Darren dropped an arm around her, settling back into the corner with her hair pressing into his jaw and cheek. “I never told anybody before,” Rachel mumbled. “Not really.”
“Why start with me?”
“I don’t know. You’re gay, bi, whatever you are. I thought maybe you’d understand.”
Honestly, he didn’t. Never being interested in s*x wasn’t something he could understand—that part of his brain (and boxers) had woken up when he was about twelve or thirteen and never shut up again. But he supposed he could understand that sense of being…abnormal.
“Thanks,” Rachel mumbled into his collarbone.
Darren squeezed. “Do I get a reward?”
“Like what?”
“Can we watch something decent instead of this film?”
Then she hit him, and the moment was lost.
- Writer
