In Spite of You, page 20
When Jeremy saw that Sam was looking again, he flipped the sign around. In clear, bold writing, it said: I love you, Sam.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jeremy yelled over the roar. ‘I love you!’
Sam vaulted off the stage, landing awkwardly and moving past the security guards, pushing up against the blockade. And then he was there, and for the first time in weeks they were close, face to face.
Reaching across the barrier, Sam grabbed Jeremy’s arms, looking at him. Jeremy stared back, feeling like a deer in headlights, like he’d just been hit in the face with a big stick, and found himself cupping Sam’s face in his hands, feeling the smoothness of his skin, the curve of his cheekbones, the warmth of his bottom lip, briefly, before they were kissing and kissing and the roar of the crowd around them faded into static and then to no sound at all.
CHAPTER 20
Only the people immediately around them could see there was something romantic happening. The rest of the rally was cheering for Apricot XPX beginning to sing her hit ‘Space Booty’. Jeremy looked into Sam’s forest eyes, his heart in his throat, his breathing shallow and fast, and felt like he might fall over from the intensity of this moment.
‘I love you too,’ Sam said, smiling so widely that Jeremy felt as if he could clamber into that grin and live like a hermit.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jeremy said, desperate to break the cycle of bad communication, desperate to make sure Sam knew he knew how much he’d fucked up.
‘Thank you,’ Sam responded, kissing him again briefly before separating with clear regret. ‘I have to get back up there.’
Jeremy nodded, pushing him gently. ‘Go, go. I’ll wait. But can we talk after?’
Sam nodded, smiling shyly, and leant in, pulling Jeremy to him with one strong arm around his waist, and kissing him again deeply. It felt like Jeremy was floating for a second, and then Sam was gone, clambering back onto the stage.
After the speeches and performances, the rally turned into a march, a colourful mass that flooded the main streets of central Sydney, full of noise and signs, helicopters with news crews hovering above. Jeremy marched along with it, with his friends, even joining in on the chants for a while, despite the fact he hated forced participation. Every so often, he saw the PopBuzz crew taking videos and photos, doing vox pops with the crowd. After an hour or so, the march ended in a big park, where the crowd dispersed.
Jeremy loitered around in the park waiting for Sam, watching his social media feeds flood with news stories about the rally. It was so rare for anything to pierce the oversaturation of media right now, and professionally, Jeremy was impressed. Personally, he was thrilled for Sam. He was also proud of his team at PopBuzz, who had already pumped out several news pieces, although he wasn’t over the moon about someone (probably Aiden) putting up a shot of him and Sam kissing during the rally with the caption: Brothers reuniting <3
He felt a brief surge of affection for his team and his weird and often annoying job – they both had really come through. He did think he would still quit at some point, because none of the problems he had with Vanessa or being properly valued had been fixed in any sense, but right now he was almost feeling grateful. Plus, he had a weird addiction to paying his rent.
Jeremy couldn’t sit still. He kept pacing around, not knowing how long he’d have to wait for Sam. He was exuberant, from the success of both the rally and his plan to apologise to Sam. That kiss had been otherworldly, transcendent, and also like coming home – but he felt like he couldn’t relax. He’d fucked things up before. He could still snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Another hour passed, and then Sam was walking out of the soft sunset that was providing a fiery banner of orange and soft pinks across the city skyline. Jeremy rocketed to his feet, feeling the urge to run across the last stretch of park that separated them, and then feeling embarrassed and stopping himself. Sam continued towards him, raising a hand in greeting, and then suddenly Jeremy didn’t care and he began to run, not quite leaping into Sam’s arms – he was probably too long and tall for that – but he did feel himself being lifted and maybe even spun. They kissed again, and Jeremy realised in that moment that this was a man he would run for. And Jeremy never ran, not even to catch a train.
‘Ahem,’ came an amused voice, and Jeremy reluctantly let himself free of Sam’s arms to see that Patsie had joined them. ‘Boys, try to main some decorum, please – this is a public space and you’re both too hot!’
‘I’m this close to pashing you too,’ said Sam wonderingly, kissing her on the cheek. ‘That was spectacular. So many people turned up. What did you do?’
‘Me? Not much, except seize opportunities. But also a little bit of lying,’ she said, opening up her phone and handing it to Sam. ‘You need to be thanking Jeremy, actually.’
Sam swung to face Jeremy.
On Patsie’s screen was an article with a huge photo of the School Strike for Climate kids sitting moodily in front of a bunch of placards. Across the photo was the title of the article: Our World’s On Fire, How About Yours? Why the School Strike For Climate Activists Refuse To Give Up.
Underneath that was his byline: Jeremy Thomas Sharp.
‘You wrote this?’ Sam asked, his eyes wide, and then began reading a quote from the article out loud. ‘“People think we don’t understand what we’re campaigning for – but what they don’t get is that we’re the ones who are going to live in an uninhabitable world thanks to the climate crisis their generation helped create. We do understand, and we’re angry. And scared.”’ Sam shook his head, looking at Jeremy with clear gratitude. ‘This is so good – all the newspapers ask them shitty questions about homework and what their parents think. You actually treated them like people.’
‘Yeah, so the article kind of went viral,’ said Patricia, taking back the phone, and showing Sam some of PopBuzz’s social media – the schoolkids on their TikTok, the article shared on Insta. There were hundreds and thousands of likes and comments. Jeremy grinned proudly.
‘What?’ said Sam in disbelief.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ Patsie said, ‘but I didn’t want to upset you, and also Jeremy asked if we could keep it a secret.’
‘Keep what a secret exactly?’ Sam asked.
‘Jeremy approached me about doing a bunch of stuff at PopBuzz with the climate kids to promote the protest – this interview, some videos, some news pieces. It was an amazing opportunity. They did a lot of work.’
Sam was shaking his head. ‘This is … amazing.’
Jeremy took Sam’s hand in his. ‘I just wanted to show you … how much you mean to me, and how important I think you are. I knew this rally meant a lot to you, so I thought maybe if I t-tried to help … if I t-tried to make it a success, you’d see … how sorry I am.’ He stuttered his way through his explanation, heart in mouth.
Sam smiled at him, and just nodded, and something calmed and quieted inside Jeremy. He barely noticed Patricia extricating herself from the conversation.
‘How did the rest of it go?’ Jeremy asked after a brief, slightly awkward pause where they looked at each other intensely, each of them almost visibly vibrating with nervous energy.
‘Jeremy, it couldn’t have gone better.’ Sam laughed in disbelief. ‘I can never thank you enough. I’ve never seen Melanie so happy. How can I thank you? Seriously, you made that a triumph.’
‘There’s nothing I could have done if you hadn’t done all the groundwork first,’ Jeremy demurred. ‘And I need you to understand that. You worked yourself to the bone – this all happened because you believed in it more than anyone else. Don’t make me force you to repeat some kind of affirmation here …’ He mocked growled, and Sam put his hands up in defeat and nodded, looking embarrassed but pleased. ‘You don’t need to thank me, because I needed to apologise. This is part of my apology. I’m so sorry for everything, Sam.’
Sam nodded, looking more serious, but still elated, and still holding Jeremy’s hand in his own, which Jeremy took as a good sign.
‘We should talk.’ Sam gestured to a park bench that had just freed up as the last of the rally crowd finally dispersed.
They walked over together in silence, hands still held lightly. Jeremy felt so tense with anticipation that he worried he’d snap like a stretched elastic band at the slightest provocation. They sat, and Sam chewed the inside of his mouth before looking at Jeremy.
‘I want to tell you that everything is fine,’ he began, which made Jeremy’s heart leap a little, before he truly understood what Sam was saying. ‘But what you did really hurt me – and I know we hadn’t talked about what we were, and what we were doing, but I guess that’s kind of the worst part … you didn’t even give us a chance. And then you went and started dating Brian, and that didn’t feel good either. So, because I’m trying this whole … not being a pushover thing, I’m not gonna say that it’s all fine. It hurt.’
Jeremy released a breath, trying to really listen to what Sam was saying, stamping down the urge to defend himself, to mitigate his own crimes. He thought back to what his mum had said – and this had to be the first non-fashion-related piece of advice from his mother that he’d ever taken to heart – and he knew that owning his mistakes was not about trying to water them down, to escape consequence. It was about taking it on the chin; it was about eating shit.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jeremy said simply. ‘I won’t try to … justify what I did, but I will say that I got a bit lost. In fact, since I’ve known you, I’ve been lost, trying to work out who I want to be, and somehow this all got mixed up in that. It’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t make the fact that I let you down forgivable.’
Sam widened his eyes a little at Jeremy’s apology – it was very different from the spin that drunken two am Jeremy had attempted.
‘I think I was scared,’ Jeremy continued. ‘I was consumed with hatred for my ex, and also, I’m just a bit … selfish,’ he admitted unhappily, looking at his own hands, head slumped. Sam went to say something, but he subsided when Jeremy held up his hands. ‘I genuinely feel so sorry and so … awful. All I can do is promise that you’re my priority now, if you’re willing to give me a chance. No more Brian, no more spite plan. Who gives a shit about the reunion? The only thing I want is to prove how important you are to me, because I think we might be something special. Sorry, I’m speaking weirdly because I’m trying to be serious. Sometimes I make too many jokes when I’m nervous.’
Sam just took his hand, gently. ‘I’d like that. I like you a lot, Jeremy.’
‘I like you a lot too, Sam,’ Jeremy said.
Jeremy had already thrown the ‘love’ word around at the rally earlier, in the heat of the moment, but this felt somehow more intimate, more real, to confirm that they just … liked each other. And it was true – Jeremy knew that he both liked and loved this guy who he’d started out thinking he absolutely hated.
‘So … what now?’ Jeremy asked tentatively.
Sam looked thoughtful, wincing a little and staring into the sky at the settling dusk. ‘Well, I think we should probably take things slow, rebuild trust. I’d like to take you on a date, perhaps – how does axe-throwing next month sound?’
‘Oh … yeah,’ Jeremy answered. ‘That would be … great. Thank you.’
Sam held his eye for a couple of moments longer before he started chuckling. ‘I’m sorry, I was absolutely messing with you.’
Jeremy gasped in outrage, slapping Sam lightly on the bicep.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Sam said. ‘I promise that’s the last time I do that, but you’re being so repentant, I had to.’
‘God, how did I end up dating such an evil man?’ Jeremy mused. ‘Uh, are we dating?’
‘Yes, we are dating, Jeremy. That makes me happy,’ Sam said, moving closer on the bench and grabbing Jeremy by both his arms. ‘And I have an idea of what we should go do now too.’ He leant in close, his lips next to Jeremy’s ear, the hint of stubble from his cheek scratching his neck with a delicious rasp, and with a voice low and husky, Sam said, ‘We’re going to go back to my house, I’m going to take all your clothes off, and I’m going to fuck you until the sun rises.’
Jeremy breathed out raggedly and just nodded.
One perfect week later, Jeremy woke up, scratching irritably at his nose as something coarse rubbed against it. His eyes widened suddenly as he feared a cockroach crawling across his face, too long a veteran of Sydney share houses. But it was just a strand of Sam’s deep chestnut hair, the head to which it was connected being buried deep into the side of Jeremy’s neck and shoulder. Nestled in like a koala to a tree, decided Jeremy, aware that when he thought about Sam, his mind dripped slowly and pendulously like spilled golden syrup.
He could feel Sam’s deep, heavy breaths, warm against his skin, but as he shifted, those breaths become shallower and quicker. Jeremy marvelled at how good this closeness felt, and how after only a short time he felt so entirely in tune with Sam’s body. Imagine knowing intimately what the change in tempo of someone’s breaths meant. And imagine not being furious about it – Jeremy had always been someone who needed space in bed and in his life, hating to be crowded. He detested the feel of a sweaty arm or leg against his own, had often in the past lain in some hook-up’s bed, eyes open, waiting until it was early enough for the trains to run again. Instead, he craved Sam’s skin at all times, like some kind of touch-starved baby ape separated from its mother by poachers.
He gently ran his fingers through the lock of hair, moving it away from his face and mouth while also trying not to wake him, and enjoying the smooth feel of it, the warmth that came from Sam’s body. He wanted to let Sam rest – they’d had a long night with little sleep. This kind of marathon, all-night affair sounded like a sexual endurance test, but it wasn’t all sex. It was intimacy; it was laughter and jokes and teasing. After feeling Sam lightly kiss his ankles, he’d asked seriously if feet were an ‘interest’ of Sam’s – and Sam being Sam had answered he’d be open to it, leaving Jeremy confirming he only was if Sam was, until finally they realised they were being so polite that they were trying to convince themselves into a mutual foot fetish neither of them actually wanted. They’d laughed harder than Jeremy could remember laughing in recent memory. He found Sam took a kind of innocent joy in lightly roughhousing, pinning Jeremy’s hands back against the headboard, picking him up and depositing him on the bed in a breathless tumble, lifting him and wrapping Jeremy’s legs around his firm torso as they stood in the stream of the shower together. But there was always so much gentleness behind those moments of strength, a velvet hand inside a firm steel glove. They were still navigating each other, the borders and bridges of how they liked to be touched and loved, and Jeremy had found himself shivering involuntarily at the way Sam had fixed him with deep, intense eye contact when he asked huskily, ‘Is this okay?’ Then after Jeremy had enthusiastically nodded, Sam had flipped him over, bringing his mouth low, Jeremy feeling the shock of a hot tongue circle and then dip inside him.
The sex was broken up by long and intimate talking. Jeremy was obsessed with Sam, every moment of him, every new way of seeing his body, every new fact he learnt about him. The fact he’d spent half a year living in rural Italy on high-school exchange was impossibly romantic, and hearing him casually speak Italian did strange things to Jeremy’s stomach. It made him very glad that he’d not persisted with his pasta-making classes, shuddering to imagine serving that mess of glue and string to someone who had been taught by a real nonna when he was sixteen. Jeremy felt his smile die a little as he thought back to that time of activity-based insanity when he’d first met Sam, who he’d been, and what had driven him to it – and he decided to move on. He wasn’t that person any more, and his life was very different – it was all about Sam now.
He looked down, startled out of his musing, to see an eye cracked open sleepily, looking up at him through a curtain of messy hair. He felt Sam’s head shift so he could see Jeremy more easily, and just as Jeremy was about to say ‘Good morning,’ he felt a hand softly cup his dick, and when he responded, begin to stroke.
‘Well,’ Jeremy said, already breathing hard, ‘that is a good morning.’
An hour later and they were in the shower again, trying to keep their giggles to an acceptable volume – but every time they looked at each other, one of them would start laughing even louder. The joke, such as it was, stemmed from Sam’s housemates, who had begun to make their displeasure at Jeremy’s constant presence (and, to be fair, frequent nocturnal noises) known, and had interrupted their early-morning acrobatics by banging on the wall separating their bedrooms. To Jeremy’s utter surprise and delight, Sam had paused thrusting for a second, rolled his eyes at Jeremy lying supine beneath him, and then pounded on the wall right back at them.
‘Some of us fuck for longer than two quick minutes on a fortnightly basis, Henry!’ Sam had shouted, before realising what he’d done and raising his hand to his mouth in horror.
Jeremy could not stop laughing, wriggling away from Sam’s attempts to cover his mouth, screaming as Sam mouthed ‘shhh’ at him. It was one of the reasons they’d moved things to the bathroom, but while it didn’t share a wall with Ruth and Henry’s room, they were running the risk of committing the second cardinal share-house sex sin – using all the hot water.
After pushing the boundary of how long two people could remain in a communal showering area, and Jeremy discovering just how much water you could accidentally inhale when you suddenly gasped and cried out under running water, Jeremy and Sam reluctantly got dressed. With his hair still wet and his face still flushed, Sam took a deep breath and told Jeremy he’d be back. He was going to attempt mediation with Ruth and Henry. Jeremy felt completely fine about hiding in Sam’s room instead, throwing himself onto the bed fully clothed.
Sam walked back into the room a little while later holding two cups of coffee and making a sheepish face.
