back, can you?’
‘I guess not.’
I’ve decided not to tell Steve that Mark already had somebody on the side. But Steve doesn’t ask any more questions. Maybe he senses I haven’t made my mind up yet. I’d like to sleep with Steve. I’ve fantasised about it. But Steve’s girlfriends never last more than a week, more often a night. We’d have to live in the same house afterwards. Soon we each have to decide whether to sign a new lease for next year. And I’m enjoying things the way they are.
‘How was it, breaking up with Aidan?’ he asks, in his sympathetic voice.
‘He hardly seemed to notice.’ I tell Steve about Aidan’s new haircut, his financial planning job. ‘It was like he’d shifted personality. Totally.’
‘That happens to loads of people after university. Some of my brother’s friends turned straighter than straight.’
‘Yeah, but this was Aidan, half an ounce of weed a week Aidan.’
‘From what you told me, he always went to extremes.’
‘Should we be making a move? Don’t you want to get a good spot?’
‘I always get a good spot,’ Steve boasts.
Once we’re inside the venue, though, it’s heaving. The stairway to the main floor is blocked by shoulder to shoulder punters. Even getting to the bar is difficult. We push our way along a narrow passageway between the people at the back. At least Steve manages to get served quickly.
‘You sure that’s all you want?’ Steve hands me a half of cider. ‘OK, follow me.’
One hand holds his plastic beer glass above his head. The other grips mine. Somehow, Steve pushes towards the throng that is the dance floor, though there’s no space for dancing tonight.
‘Excuse us. Coming through.’
People frown and moan. Some emphatically ignore us, turning their backs and widening their shoulders. But nobody can really object. There are no reserved places. We could be returning to a spot we had earlier. I half stumble on unseen stairs but Steve jerks me upright. It’s when we come to a stop that the problems will start. We thread our way from the right side of the stage to the centre, moving back as we go. At one point, Steve stops, and a bearded bloke taps him on the shoulder.
‘Keep moving,’ he says. Steve’s blocking the guy’s girlfriend.
We push through until we’re two thirds of the way back, dead centre, maybe fifteen feet in front of the mixing desk. The couple we stand in front of are in conversation with the people behind.
‘Told you I always get a good spot,’ Steve says.
There are plenty of tall guys in front of us, but I can see a mike stand between heads. I hope it’s the lead singer’s. On cue, the band appears. They go into one of my favourite songs and the crowd shifts slightly. Suddenly, my view is great. I think I will go out with Steve.
But not yet. I enjoy the not so subtle way he rubs against me in the bouncy numbers, pulling me in front of him so that he protects me from the crowd and I have an even better view, but also feel the heat from his body, feel his groin grinding against my bum. For both of us, the real thrill is in the chase. It’s the race that counts, not the finishing line. If we get together, it won’t last, I remind myself. And we will still have to live in the same house.
When we get back, Vic is there. She wants to know all about the show. I let Steve tell her while I go up to have a shower. Then we share a joint while Steve has a shower.
‘He doesn’t normally do that after a gig,’ Vic says. ‘Does he think he’s going to get lucky?’
‘It was very hot in there.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘We went as mates, not... you know.’
‘But did you finish with Aidan, like you said were going to?’
I tell her about Aidan, and about Mark, and by the time we’re done, Steve has returned.
‘I’m shattered,’ I say. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up.’
I half expect Steve to come upstairs after me, but
‘I guess not.’
I’ve decided not to tell Steve that Mark already had somebody on the side. But Steve doesn’t ask any more questions. Maybe he senses I haven’t made my mind up yet. I’d like to sleep with Steve. I’ve fantasised about it. But Steve’s girlfriends never last more than a week, more often a night. We’d have to live in the same house afterwards. Soon we each have to decide whether to sign a new lease for next year. And I’m enjoying things the way they are.
‘How was it, breaking up with Aidan?’ he asks, in his sympathetic voice.
‘He hardly seemed to notice.’ I tell Steve about Aidan’s new haircut, his financial planning job. ‘It was like he’d shifted personality. Totally.’
‘That happens to loads of people after university. Some of my brother’s friends turned straighter than straight.’
‘Yeah, but this was Aidan, half an ounce of weed a week Aidan.’
‘From what you told me, he always went to extremes.’
‘Should we be making a move? Don’t you want to get a good spot?’
‘I always get a good spot,’ Steve boasts.
Once we’re inside the venue, though, it’s heaving. The stairway to the main floor is blocked by shoulder to shoulder punters. Even getting to the bar is difficult. We push our way along a narrow passageway between the people at the back. At least Steve manages to get served quickly.
‘You sure that’s all you want?’ Steve hands me a half of cider. ‘OK, follow me.’
One hand holds his plastic beer glass above his head. The other grips mine. Somehow, Steve pushes towards the throng that is the dance floor, though there’s no space for dancing tonight.
‘Excuse us. Coming through.’
People frown and moan. Some emphatically ignore us, turning their backs and widening their shoulders. But nobody can really object. There are no reserved places. We could be returning to a spot we had earlier. I half stumble on unseen stairs but Steve jerks me upright. It’s when we come to a stop that the problems will start. We thread our way from the right side of the stage to the centre, moving back as we go. At one point, Steve stops, and a bearded bloke taps him on the shoulder.
‘Keep moving,’ he says. Steve’s blocking the guy’s girlfriend.
We push through until we’re two thirds of the way back, dead centre, maybe fifteen feet in front of the mixing desk. The couple we stand in front of are in conversation with the people behind.
‘Told you I always get a good spot,’ Steve says.
There are plenty of tall guys in front of us, but I can see a mike stand between heads. I hope it’s the lead singer’s. On cue, the band appears. They go into one of my favourite songs and the crowd shifts slightly. Suddenly, my view is great. I think I will go out with Steve.
But not yet. I enjoy the not so subtle way he rubs against me in the bouncy numbers, pulling me in front of him so that he protects me from the crowd and I have an even better view, but also feel the heat from his body, feel his groin grinding against my bum. For both of us, the real thrill is in the chase. It’s the race that counts, not the finishing line. If we get together, it won’t last, I remind myself. And we will still have to live in the same house.
When we get back, Vic is there. She wants to know all about the show. I let Steve tell her while I go up to have a shower. Then we share a joint while Steve has a shower.
‘He doesn’t normally do that after a gig,’ Vic says. ‘Does he think he’s going to get lucky?’
‘It was very hot in there.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘We went as mates, not... you know.’
‘But did you finish with Aidan, like you said were going to?’
I tell her about Aidan, and about Mark, and by the time we’re done, Steve has returned.
‘I’m shattered,’ I say. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up.’
I half expect Steve to come upstairs after me, but
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