Exhale by Sophia Soames

JAMIE

He took a seat opposite me, twirling his Diet Coke bottle like he didn’t understand how to open it. The whole table shook from his leg jiggling, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Calm,” I said quietly. “Calm down.”

He flashed a little smile, for a second showing off a different side to his handsome face. His Adam’s apple bobbed from his repeated swallowing, drawing my gaze to his slim neck and then down to where his fingers still fidgeted with the bottle top. In fact, his entire body was in constant motion from small, erratic tics.

“I’m not going to eat you. You’re looking at me like you expect me to jump and murder you any minute now. I’m the one who hasn’t done this before, remember? I’m the one who should be shaking with fear. You have nothing to worry about with me.”

“That’s what all the serial killers say before they chop you up,” he mumbled, finally unscrewing the lid on his bottle. The hiss sawed at the uncomfortable silence like a blunt butterknife.

“I’m not a serial killer.” I stirred a sachet of sugar into my espresso, making trails in the golden foam of my tiny paper cup. I took a careful sip and let the hot, sweet liquid calm my frazzled nerves. He made me nervous. Not because of who or what he was, but because of what he might let me do to him.

“Exactly. Another thing that always happens in those horror movies. Isn’t that what they say? The bad guys?” He was back to looking young. Young and in need of someone to protect him. Love him forever. Yeah. That was my brain working overtime again. Life didn’t happen like this. People didn’t fall in love over hissing bottles of Diet Coke and bad espresso served in tiny paper cups. This was just a meaningless encounter that would lead to nothing but embarrassed laughter, told as an insane joke in a pub. I could actually see myself sitting there with my friends, turning the whole afternoon into a funny story, making them laugh at my naivety.

“Can I ask you something?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I was sweating under my coat and wondering why I’d decided to wear so many layers. It was a warm, spring afternoon, and I was in my full winter gear, having dressed in a haze of daydreams mixed with frantic anxiety. I needed to calm the fuck down and get myself back to some kind of normal state, where I could speak without stuttering and my armpits weren’t drenched in sweat. I had no problem sitting down chatting with customers at work, talking about the weather and making jokes about current affairs. Yet, here I was all stupid, just because the guy sitting next to me at the rickety café table was the most normal man I’d ever seen.

He was an ordinary bloke. A nice bloke even. Someone who could easily have been the latest apprentice at the garage where I worked. But he was gay, and he’d agreed to have sex with me, and I was terrified, which made no sense. It was only sex. At the same time, looking into those big eyes, or at that lush mouth, or the mop of tight curls on his head, I wanted to reach out and touch him, brush my thumb over his cheek, feel his stubble under my fingertips. I wanted to stroke his lips, his eyebrows. I wanted to kiss his temples, and…yes, I wanted to do a lot of more than that. But still, here we were.

I took another sip of my coffee that was already going cold. “The thing is…” Fuck it. I needed to ask, though. I had expectations. I had hopes. I had bloody paralysing fears. “This sex thing? Are you into, like, all of it?”

“All of it?” he asked and started fiddling with the coke bottle again.

“I’ve had…like, anal with girls. I’ve never been brave enough to ask anyone to play with mine. Is that…what you kind of expect to do?”

He smiled, and I breathed a too-loud sigh of relief.

“Sex is whatever we make of it. If we both have fun, we can do whatever you want. I totally go either way, happy to bottom or top. So…there. We’ve had that awkward conversation.” He sat up a little straighter, his eyes trained on his hands as he asked, “You want to bottom then?”

“I don’t know?” There I was again. This was…such a stupid idea. I was an idiot. That much was obvious.

“It’s good to talk about these things.” He suddenly sounded far too grown up, despite his voice trembling. “Because then we can just go with it. I like that you asked—that’s decent of you. But the sex is usually the only part of my hook-ups I get right. It’s the after bit that I fuck up.”

“Then talk to me,” I said, trying to knock some sense into this conversation. We were both freaking out and that needed to stop. “What part goes wrong?”

“As I said, I’ve had more than a few hook-ups. None of them have been any good. I tend to go for guys who end up pitying or laughing at me. It’s kind of my own fault, as I go for a certain type, and they’re always wrong. I know what I’m looking for, what kind of guy would make me happy. Well, I think I know.”

“Chemistry and attraction are sometimes two completely different things,” I started, then I stopped. I had no right to claim to know what I was talking about.

“Exactly!” he agreed, beaming at me. “I go for people I fancy, but they never really fancy me back. Not when it comes down to it. They may like how I look, but they don’t want to talk to me or even stay the night.”

“I already like talking to you,” I said, and I did. I was enjoying hanging out with him, in the comfortable warmth of the coffee shop. He wasn’t trembling so hard anymore, and to top it all off, he was nice. Really nice.

“You’ll get tired of me,” he said. “I talk a lot and I’m intense. And apparently, I’m really demanding and needy and controlling. The last guy I hooked up with told me he was tired of my voice before he’d even finished blowing me. Said he couldn’t imagine being with someone who didn’t know when to shut the hell up.”

“That’s just rude. I would have kicked him out.”

“I did. Told him to go fuck himself.”

“Good for you.”

“I wanted…I suppose… Life is not that simple, is it? I just want to meet the right person, you know? Fall in crazy love with someone I can come home to in the evenings, who’ll hug me and love me and…yeah. All that. Some people find their soul mate and then they’re just, like, happy?”

“I don’t think they found their soul mates on Grindr.”

He smiled. A sad little smile that broke my heart. So, I did it. I reached out and touched his cheek. Smooth skin and a hint of bristled stubble against my fingertips. He looked up at me and spoke, his voice barely there.

“Some people seem to belong together. I just want to find that person who belongs with me.”

I knew that feeling far too well. I’d thought Kizzy and I would last forever. We hadn’t, and in a way, I was still devastated. But at the same time, thinking of her made me smile. She loved me. I loved her. We would nurse that love forever, but that didn’t mean we were right for each other. We weren’t, and we both knew that.

“I just want to be happy,” he whispered. “And people disappoint me. Over and over again.”

I didn’t really know what I was doing, but my fingertips still rested on his skin, so I brushed them down over his jaw, like I was painting him, tracing the outline of his neck. He shivered at my touch, swallowing as my hand came to a rest on his shoulder.

“Am I a disappointment?” I asked, trying to make my voice light and teasing, wondering if he could feel that I was trembling as much as he was.

“No.”

“Then we’re good?” It wasn’t that simple. Nothing in this life was, and for once, I wished I was drunk, so I wouldn’t care. Perhaps a few pints would’ve made me brave enough to take the lead. Instead, I released him and let my hand fall to my lap as I sank back into the chair and slowly exhaled the burning air inside of me.

It was crazy. He was sitting right next to me. All I had to do was reach out, cup the back of his neck. I could easily lean over and kiss him. That would be the first milestone over and done with, something to tick off the list. Break the thick ice. Smash that damn elephant out of the room.

“You’ll probably leave now, but I’ll do it anyway,” he said bravely—certainly braver than me—as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, smoothing it out on the tabletop.

“Is that a…list?” It was. He had a list of questions. I laughed and at last took off my coat. I was staying for this one. I’d never had someone interview me for the job of their bed partner for an hour or two.

“It’s weird, I know. But I think it’s better to set the record straight before we both realise this is a huge mistake.”

“It’s not,” I said confidently. In fact, it was kind of perfect. “Go on, shoot. I want to hear these questions.”

“They’re more like…statements? Things that are important to me.”

“Sounds good.” I leant forward with my elbows resting on the table, giving him what I hoped was a supportive smile.

“Firstly. Do you like cats?” He cringed as he asked, and I let a giggle slip.

“Hey, you told me you have a cat. My little sister would love you forever if you let her meet him. I don’t mind them, but I get that you love your cat, and I’m sure I’ll love him too. It’s a boy cat, yeah?”

“Boy cat.” He sighed deeply, a red blush creeping up his cheeks. “This is so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid at all. I’ve never been interviewed for a boyfriend job before, so bear with me. I may need extra time to consider some of my answers.”

He snorted and fiddled nervously with the crumpled paper. I wanted to kiss him even more.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” His voice was gruff, and when he looked up from under his fringe, my brain short-circuited. Before I could stop myself, I did it. I actually cupped the back of his neck. His skin was hot and a little damp against my palm, and I watched his face, trying to gauge where he was at. Those cheekbones, those sparkly eyes, partly hidden behind a strand of hair…his full lips pursed like he didn’t know if I was teasing him. I hoped he knew I was dead serious. I leant in and carefully tasted his lips. I used the word tasted because that’s what I did. I didn’t kiss. I took a little bite out of him and savoured every morsel, our lips so perfectly pressed together, my bottom lip between his, the warmth of his breath as he exhaled and smiled and that first tentative taste became a kiss. And another. Small, wet kisses where I tried to figure out how we best fitted, but it seemed we fitted any way I kissed him. I loved how he leant into me, how he angled his head exactly right as I gently gripped his hair, then caressed his cheek as the kiss finally, reluctantly, came to an end.

“Wow,” he whispered as I came up for air, deep breaths to calm my beating heart.

“Not sorry,” I whispered back. “I’ve been wanting to do that since we got here. You are…you know…very…kissable.”

“Kissable.” He grinned, and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I put myself back together and sat my stupid arse on my chair. A girl might have loved that display of sudden romance…well, maybe not. I had no idea how this version of the Jamie Show was supposed to run. I wanted to flirt with him. I wanted to scoop him up and have him crawl onto my lap. I wanted him naked and panting underneath me. Instead, here I was looking into my empty paper cup as my confidence drained away.

“Next question?” I asked weakly.

“You just kissed me. That was…unexpected.”

“Not on your list?”

“No. Er…I…” He was flustered again, and I loved that. I made him flustered. He made me insane, but in the absolute best way.

“Describe me in five words,” he said. There was that grin again.

“You’re cheeky,” I said, back on track. “Broad shoulders. Charming smile. Your eyes twinkle when you’re happy. You’re also totally kissable.”

“That’s more than five words.”

“Did I fail that one?”

“No, you’re good.”

“Any more questions?”

“You’re impatient. But handsome, and I like you. I like you a lot so far.”

“I think you’re lovely too.”

“Boxers or briefs?”

“Is that a dealbreaker?”

“No, it’s an opener so I can tell you what I prefer. You might not like it.”

“I’ll like it.” He could probably tell me anything at this point and I’d nod like a puppet and like it.

“So, boxers or briefs?”

“Briefs. I like to keep my junk in its place. Free-balling does nothing for me.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you?”

“I like…pretty things.”

“Like…lacy things and stuff? I don’t know what the correct term is, sorry.”

“Suppose?” He smiled nervously, and I grinned even wider as the images of him wearing ‘pretty things’ flooded my brain.

“I wear a lot of things that most people consider women’s stuff,” he continued. “Nail varnish and lacy underwear. Silky camisoles. Pink vests. I’m telling you now in case you find the stuff in my flat and think I’m a freak. I’m not. I like the things I like. I like how I look in them. I don’t wear dresses and high heels to the shops or whatever. Just small things. Things that make me feel good.”

“You can wear whatever you want. I’ll still like you.”

“Next question,” he said far too quickly. I hated that he was embarrassed about something that was clearly important to him. He rattled out a few more mundane and seemingly random questions, which I answered easily—I loved spicy food, didn’t mind garlic, hadn’t read any French classics but would happily indulge in his recommendation of cinematic greats. I didn’t mind his little quirks because with every word coming out of his mouth, I was more and more intrigued. I loved that he read books and had no idea about what was currently trending on Netflix. I loved his taste in music and promised to share mine. I made a mental note to add him to my Spotify subscription so I could educate his ears with the masterful songs that had shaped my youth.

“One thing that I won’t budge on…” He looked terrified again, and it instantly stripped him of his grown-up demeanour. I couldn’t bear it. He was far too special to be scared of me. I would never hurt him. Well, I would try not to. I would love to try to make him comfortable around me. In my head, I was already weeks into this relationship, hoping he would come visit so I could introduce him to my friends. I wanted him to meet my family. I promised myself I wouldn’t disappoint him, but I was a fool of epic proportions. Here I was, thinking I could fall in love with a boy I had just met and live happily ever after.

“If we do this, if we decide to be together…” His voice was stronger now. “I mean, I know it doesn’t work that way, but if we, by some weird universal fluke, found ourselves still talking in a couple of weeks’ time, and decided that maybe we could be something?”

“Yeah?” I was hoping I was right about where this conversation was leading. I wanted what he wanted, and I realised, with a warmth burning in my stomach, that we were perhaps on the same page here. He was looking straight at me, and I was suddenly burning up.

“Then it’s just you and me,” he said, quietly but firmly. “I won’t put up with you having Grindr and stuff like that if you’re my boyfriend. No dates, no open relationships, none of this it’s just sex crap. I don’t want to do that because…no way. I’ve tried it in the past, and I just can’t deal. I latch onto people, and I want all of them, the full one hundred per cent. If I’m going to fall in love with you, I need you to fall in love with me back, not just want to meet up once a week to fuck me senseless and then leave me to bloody crumble with anxieties about what we are to each other. Things like that are a hard no.”

“That sounds fair.” Fair? My head was a stupid place.

“It’s all in or nothing,” he insisted while I nodded like a puppet. We were definitely on the same page. Same book. A whole library’s worth.

“Are you good at texting?” he asked, running his finger down his list. “I mean, if you’re late, will you tell me?”

“You sound like my little sister. She gets very anxious if she doesn’t know what’s going on. I text her all the time.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Hey…” I grabbed him again because this was apparently the way I was with him. I tugged the sleeve of his jacket, clumsily manhandling him until he was in my arms, while he was awkwardly sat on his chair. I hugged the shit out of him, feeling a little intoxicated as I sniffed his neck. He smelled good. He smelled so damn good I almost wanted to cry. Here he was. My boy. My own very handsome little princeling. And there was a wetness in my eyes from my own stupidity.

“I’m an idiot, I know that. I’m an emotional twat. I cry at the drop of a hat, and I can tell you that when I love someone, I love the shit out of them. Ask my ex-girlfriend. She’ll want to meet you. Then she’ll spill all my secrets and bad habits and probably make you run away and never want to see me again. But she’s the best, my Kizzy, and I promise you, you will love her too. What I’m getting at is this. I will text you. Every fucking day. I will tell you how I feel when you’re not with me, and I will tell you how I feel about you every time I see you. Because I’m just like that. My mouth churns out my feelings all the time, so you’ll never have to doubt me. In fact, you’ll probably have to put a sock in my mouth because there’s pretty much no way of stopping me once I start.”

“Dude, you'll have to stick shit in my mouth...I'm the one who talks too much.!” He smiled so hard that I had to kiss him again. Sloppy, gorgeous kisses where his giggles were relentless as I mauled his poor face. I kissed his dimples and his eyelids and his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Then the lady at the next table made some noises, so I sat up properly and tried to gather myself back together.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll do exactly that.” I smiled at him from under my hair. I was high. High on childish stupidity and a daydream that was suddenly close enough to touch.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he said, mumbling something apologetic about our inappropriate public displays of affection.

I couldn’t say anything back, so I stood up and took his hand. This boy of mine. Mine. I could already see it all, my imagination running away with me before I could stop it. I could see our future selves sat together on a blanket in the grass, laughing and running through fields of flowers. Yeah. I had a very vivid imagination. I was falling fast, and there was no way back once my head started churning out ideas. I was diving into this headfirst, and as I stood there with his hand in mine, I realised I absolutely loved it.