There was the day I realised things with Nicky were different, for me at least. And then there was the day I found the nerve to act on it.
When it happened, it was a sudden, yet somehow inevitable step forward. One minute we were best friends, watching movies, going to football, spending Friday night down the pub with our friends, being invited to parties together. Then one Saturday night, he called me at home to say he wouldn’t be meeting me as usual at the pub. He wasn’t feeling good.
His voice was so shaky I felt a shiver down my back. I hadn’t seen him that day: he’d been on a trip with some motorcycle mates.
“Tell me,” I said.
“It’s nothing. Just a scrape.” But he knew I wouldn’t settle for that. “I came off on Box Hill,” he admitted. “Hit a muddy patch on the path and the bike sl
