“Especially good company.”
He smiles. “I’m good company, am I?”
“Yes.” The best.
He pulls me into a hug. I gasp, unsure what to do. It takes me far too long to reciprocate, by which point it’s over, and we’re both blushing, and my head is spinning, and I’m tingling and desperate for more.
“Bye,” I say.
“Bye.”
I turn and almost fall over myself in my hurry to reach my car. I get in, put on my seatbelt, and turn on the engine. I glance back at the house. The yellow door is still open. Jimmy is standing in the doorway, watching me, grinning. I wave, check my mirrors, and then pull away. When I glance in my mirrors again, he’s still there.
9
JIMMY
Finals are over. It should be a freeing thought, but dread is already seeping in, and I only left the exam hall ten minutes ago. Have I done enough? Will I get a decent classification? Does it even matter? Oh, shit, I have to be an adult now. Get a full-time job, find somewhere to live. But first, I want to have fun.
Flynn’s coming over tomorrow, unless he’s changed his mind, but I want to do something tonight. I text a few friends to see if they’re up for going to the pub tonight, but they either still have exams or other plans.
I hit the gym next, but it’s not the same without my Barbell Soc buddies there. Half the fun is the banter and mucking around. The friendly rivalry and impromptu competitions of who can lift the most, or who can increase their normal load the most, in a month. That kind of thing. I still do a full session; I’m not satisfied until the pull in my muscles tells me I’veworked hard. I cool down, then take a long shower in the changing rooms.
It hasn’t helped. The truth is, I don’t want to be alone today. I find a quiet corner of campus and open my favourite hook-up app. Except, instead of scrolling, I end up re-reading the two short communications I had with Flynn. Before I’m aware of what I’m doing, I’m tapping out a message to him: ‘You do realise we STILL haven’t exchanged phone numbers, don’t you?’
What am I doing? We have plans for tomorrow. I shouldn’t be seeking him out tonight because I don’t want to be alone. Not that I am asking him to come over. He’ll be tired from working on the farm all day. Fuck it. I send the message and then head off campus.
Halfway home, my phone pings. Flynn sent me his phone number. Grinning, I add it to my phone book and send him a text: ‘And now you have my number. Congrats!’
Flynn: I'm honoured.
Jimmy: You should be!
Flynn: How did your exam go?
Jimmy: Well, I think, thanks to you.
Flynn: I didn’t do much. You did all the hard work.
Jimmy: Trust me, you were a huge help. Am I stopping you from working?
Flynn: I get breaks.
Jimmy: Want to help me celebrate the end of my finals?
I keep checking my phone as I walk, but, for now, the conversation is over. Either Flynn had to get backto work, or my question scared him off. I hope it’s not the latter. Saturday was great. Things were relaxed. There was the odd stutter, but overall, our interactions held the promise of a renewed friendship. I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.
I get home and shout to check to see if anyone else is in. No reply. My housemates must be on campus, doing exams, or studying. Most of them are moving out over the weekend, leaving me on my own for the summer. I don’t blame them. Why hang around in a grotty student house if you’ve got somewhere else to go?
My phone buzzes.
Flynn: I’m coming over tomorrow. That’s still the plan, isn’t it?
Jimmy: Yeah, but I want to do something tonight. How does pizza and anime sound?
Flynn: I can’t promise I’ll be good company.
Jimmy: Something wrong?
