Cal - 2. Chapter 2

It's dark when I wake up. I can't really work out if it's early or late because the soft light kind of looks the same at both ends of the day, so I glance down to the floor to check my alarm clock. Several things happen at once. My alarm clock isn't there, just murky blackness. That kind of makes more sense to me by the time I've finished realising that this isn't my bed. But - Oh. My. Fucking. Hell. I hurt. Everywhere. In places I didn't even know I had. I collapse back into the bed, grateful for it's soft warmth cushioning and enveloping me. Closing my eyes again I feel myself drifting away for a moment. Maybe longer. Wait. Where the fuck am I? OK, it's a hangover, a fucked up bad one but you can deal with this Cal, open your eyes again and see where you are. I do. It doesn't help much. The room is pretty big, and clearly not a bedsit, so I quickly rule out being in my own building. Oh wait, yeah, I went out clubbing. Fuck, who did I go home with? It wouldn't be the first time I've woken up with some pretty boy student type. Bollocks, have I done it again? Another night of superficially good sex with an otherwise emotionally and intellectually unattractive, boring, just physically pretty lad? No, that didn't seem to fit either. Something feels different, I just can’t identify what. The door is open, so I guess I'm going to have to go and find out.

I get up again, much more slowly this time, and sit on the edge of the bed. As my eyes adjust I can see more than I had thought, maybe it’s brighter than I previously imagined. My clothes are folded neatly on a chair - this is not what I'm used to finding after a night of drink and drug fuelled fucking. Looking towards the door, I see it. There's a scary looking black dog - the kind that looks like it could chew your arm off for a light snack if it wanted to. I fucking hate dogs, they chase you, and make noise. It growls at me as I unintentionally make eye contact, but thankfully doesn't move. Due to the mix of pain and fear neither do I.

"Scarlett! Behave!"

The voice is loud, deep, and apparently in charge as the dog is quiet. Seriously? This blood thirsty savage animal is called Scarlett? People are very fucking weird. I can hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom and realise that this is probably the guy I went home with last night. He steps in to the doorway.

"Hey, you’re up, how are you feeling?"

When I say he steps in to the doorway, I mean, he kinda fills the doorway. This guy is massive. Like, fucking huge. I guess around 6'5” as he was almost hitting the top of the frame with his head, and about 4' wide, but not fat. No, just fucking huge. Probably around 30-something. He's got short cropped hair all over his head and face, darker than blonde, but lighter than ginger. I don’t know what you call that colour. I can see that his arms are equally hairy, and judging by the top of his t-shirt, so is his chest. I have absolutely no fucking idea who he is. I try and remember the guys I met at the club but can't seem to recall much of the night at all. Whoever he is, he's definitely not the kind of guy I spend the night with. Skinny, smooth, young - no, he ticks none of the usual boxes. So now I'm thinking that I need to say something. How long have I been sat here looking at him?

"I'm Davey, good to see you awake, I was getting worried."

Presumably my confusion was obvious. But his voice, it was even bigger than he was, deep and kind of growly. It gets inside you like there’s a really big speaker inside your chest, making your entire body vibrate whenever he speaks.

"I found you last night, getting the crap beaten out of you in the street."

Oh yeah, now that he mentions it it, that does seem kind of familiar.

"I tried to help, the guys saw me and ran off, but you seemed in a pretty bad way.

I tentatively touched my own face, for the first time noticing how bruised I felt.

“You wanted me to take you home, but then didn't really make enough sense for me to work out where that was, so I brought you back to mine."

I can see why they ran off. I kind of want to right now, except of course I'm naked and hurt like hell. Running probably isn’t a realistic option.

"Thanks - I think.

Oh fucking fuck, talking seemed to be much more difficult than I remembered. Something about the process of thinking about words to say, putting them in order, and then actually making the sounds wasn’t working as smoothly as usual. I must look like a complete idiot. And why do I even care about that? I don’t know him.

"Why?"

I know that I might sound like an ungrateful bastard, but this is all fucking weird for me. If I'm honest, I'm feeling out of my depth and totally off balance with the whole thing, and not just physically. People don’t just do something like that, help for no reason or reward. Ever. People are always in it for themselves.

"Why what?"

Which I suppose is a fair question. I haven't been very clear.

"Why did you help me? And why am I here?"

I needed some kind of foothold on reality, something to start making sense. What was this going to cost me?

"I guess it's because I'm a nice guy. I'm not going to walk past some kid being beaten up and do nothing. And when I saw it was you, I felt bad for you, so I tried to help."

"What do you mean - when you saw it was me?"

"I recognised you. From the club, that's all."

"You were there? Did we…?”

I didn't recognise him at all, and it's not like I wouldn't have noticed him, it's pretty hard to not notice someone who is like twice the size of a normal guy.

"Ha ha ha, yeah I was there. And whatever the end of that question is, no, we didn't."

"OK, good. I mean, not good, but thanks. For helping."

Oh My God, what is wrong with me? I can hardly speak to this guy.

"I was just making dinner. Get dressed and come down to the kitchen, it's lasagne."

"Sure, OK, thanks Davey."

My eyes had already shifted back to the savage but silent killing machine called Scarlett who was still sitting right opposite the door. Guarding me, or keeping me in?

"Don't worry about her, she won't hurt you. But I'll take her with me, out of the way."

Davey walked off with Scarlett following behind him as if she was a very well behaved puppy. I realised that I'd spent the entire conversation, if you could call it that, totally naked. Not that I'm embarrassed, I'm proud of my body. But I wanted to get dressed. My jeans and t-shirt had obviously been washed and dried, freshly soft and smelling like fabric conditioner, but were still pretty battered. I'd have to throw them away when I get home. I decided not to start thinking about how I came to be not wearing them. I was pretty much intending to just leave as soon as I was dressed, but pulling my jeans on was surprisingly difficult and painful, causing me to groan and swear considerably. As far as I could tell, I was badly bruised all over, but not seriously hurt.

"Are you OK little guy?"

Davey re-appeared in the doorway. My jeans on, I lay back on the bed, temporarily defeated by my own stupid body.

"Yeah, it just hurts a little."

I lied. It fucking killed me to move even the tiniest amount, but I didn't want to tell him that. I didn’t want him to think I was weak.

"OK, well sit up, and I'll help you finish."

I propped myself up on my elbows more in disbelief than anything else. I've definitely never met anyone like this guy in my life. Before I really had time to say anything, he was stood in front of me, holding my t-shirt, ready to put it over my head. I sat up, and he pulled it down, over my face, holding the sleeves for my arms. I felt like a fucking useless child, somewhat humiliated, but also knowing that it would take me twenty times longer to do it on my own so begrudgingly grateful.

T-shirt on, Davey kneels down and starts putting my trainers on my feet. He works quickly, and I sit there, silent.

"There you go kid."

He called me 'kid'. No-one has ever done that before. Which was lucky for them because it would have got them a fight. Usually.

"Come on then, dinner is ready."

Dinner - so it was the evening. I tried to stand up, but wasn't fully prepared for the pain and stumbled slightly. Davey caught me. For the briefest of moments he was supporting me completely and he didn't appear to even wobble slightly with the effort. Something strange was happening for me, I was hyper aware of all the places where my body was coming in to contact with him. Not least where his hand was touching my skin as my t-shirt had ridden up a little.

"Maybe take it a little slower?"

"Yeah", I reply, "Thanks. Again."

The smell of the food was enough for me to realise that I was hungry, really hungry. So I decided to stay for the free food before going home. I was determined to walk without help, and I think Davey must have seen this as he backed away from me, but not very far. I was much slower than usual, but at least I was able to walk.

On the way to the kitchen we passed a bathroom, another bedroom which I guessed must be his, and the main living room. The place was pretty big, and nicely done out. The kitchen was really a kitchen diner, and could probably seat 10 people for a meal. I sat at the nearest end of the large table, where Davey had started to set out dinner. He produced two large plates of what was obviously home made lasagne and garlic bread.

"So", he started, "what's your name?"

I was totally embarrassed, again - I mean, how rude could I possibly be. This complete stranger has totally saved my ass and is now feeding me. And why did I care so much about what he thought of me? I finished my mouthful of food, which was tasting fucking amazing, but then the last hot food I’d eaten was instant noodles, so the bar wasn’t set particularly high.

"Oh my god - I'm sorry, I'm Cal."

"Well it's nice to meet you properly Cal. You weren't really making much sense last night."

"Oh, sorry, I don't remember."

"No, I guess not."

Our conversation continued rather awkwardly for the remainder of dinner. For some reason, I continued to find it almost impossible to speak to this guy. Words formed clearly enough in my head, well, for the most part, but hardly ever made it out of my mouth. This was all wrong, so as soon as was reasonable, OK, maybe a bit before that, I stood up and said that I was going home.

"I can give you a lift if you want."

"No, it's OK. But thanks anyway. For everything."

I'd like to say that I casually walked out and never looked back. That's definitely what I would usually do, and was what I was imagining would happen. In reality, I got home and sat on my bed, and felt totally fucking confused. The club, the guys in the street, the beating - that all makes some sort of sense. But Davey, he definitely does not make any kind of sense. There's something about him, something that has stayed with me, invading my thoughts.

I woke up the following morning feeling much better than I expected. Looking out of the window the world seemed pretty unchanged, life was still happening, as much as it ever did. But inside, within me, things were not the same at all. Several times I’d find myself daydreaming, just thinking about him, what he had done for me, and wondering what he was doing. And worse, wondering what he thought of me - if he thought about me at all. He’d surely think about me, at least sometimes, wouldn’t he? I spent the best part of a week doing this - becoming consumed by these thoughts. I was feeling physically sick, no appetite to eat, and unable to sleep. I needed to know what was going on, but had no idea how to find out. I didn't really have any friends, not real friends, and certainly not the kind of friends I could talk about this to. So I knew I had to figure this out on my own. Actually I'm not sure I could talk about this to anyone at all. Actually saying it out loud to someone else is totally fucking different to just thinking it. Until then, it’s all just in my head, not quite real, safe.

By the time I had made it through to Friday evening I was going completely fucking crazy. I decided to go back to the club to look for Davey - I had to see him again. I didn't have the tiniest idea why, or what I was going to do if I found him, but I had to do something. No-one has ever had this kind of effect on me. Walking around the club I didn't see anyone I knew, not that I was really shocked by that, it's not a place I go to very often. I searched, and I mean really properly searched, but Davey was nowhere to be found. On my way out there were a couple of lads I could definitely have had for the night, they were looking me over and smiling, hoping perhaps. But that wasn't why I was there, not for them, or anyone like them. Instead of going straight home I decided to take a slight detour past some of the more popular bars. By ‘slight detour’ what I really mean is a couple of miles. OK, so I admit it, I was being ridiculous and hoping that I might somehow bump in to him.

I walked past several bars, looking through the windows, even walking around a couple before leaving again, but no sign of Davey. After an hour or so I was beginning to accept that what I was doing was at the very least borderline stupid. But then I saw him. I knew it was him, even from the other side of the road. There he was, sat with three other people at a table by the window. I crossed the street, but didn't know what to do. It wasn't really my kind of place, pretty up-market, very expensive. I walked in trying to look confident, and feeling anything but. Whatever was about to happen was probably going to require alcohol so I headed to the bar and ordered a bottle of lager which cost me £9. £9! Fucking expensive. There wasn't any way I could get close to him without making some kind of a scene, so I leant at a table where I could watch him. He didn't notice me.

Really - I'm stalking him now am I? Fucking hell, what was happening to me? I drank my lager, slowly, and thought I was being subtle in my watching, but one of his friends had caught me staring in their direction a couple of times. The third time around, I couldn't pretend it was accidental. He started one of those non-verbal conversations across a bar.

He pointed to himself, raising his eyebrows - are you looking at me?

I shook my head, smiling - no. The rest of the group weren't paying any attention to us.

He looked around where he was sitting. There was something quite funny about him, the way he mimed to me about the other people at the table.

He pointed to the guy sat next to him. Him?

Shaking my head. No, not him.

Apparently he's straight anyway. What about him? A guy stood near them who I don't think he actually knew.

No. I shook my head again, smiling - not him.

Her? Even he didn't buy that one, but it was funny to ask and made me laugh out loud.

No, not her. His fake shocked look was priceless.

Him then? Pointing at Davey who was sitting at the end of their table, facing away from me.

I nod, yes, him. The guy who intrudes in to my thoughts every day and every night, who I can't get rid of, who I don't understand.

Really? Him? Am I sure?

Yes, I’m sure.

His little acting out of 'Well if you're sure' again made me laugh again.

Apparently we'd stopped being subtle, as the girl in their group was now watching this little exchange. Bollocks, I didn't really want it to be like this, not that I had any plan for what it should have been like either. There was some leaning in and talking happening now, interspersed with occasional glances to me, and at Davey. The three of them now seemed to be debating something, and then the first guy said something to Davey. He turned around, looking directly at me, and then back to his friends. I couldn't read his expression as he looked at me. There was some sort of joke at Davey’s expense, as the other three were laughing and Davey looked to be slightly tense, annoyed maybe. And then I realised that it was probably about me. Fucking idiots. The don't know anything about me, how dare they?

Instantly angry, I turned away to leave, abandoning the £3 worth of lager I had left. But the place was fairly busy, I'd been stood there for several minutes and there were now quite a few people between me and the door, so I had to manoeuvre around them which took much longer than I wanted it to. Keeping my head down, I picked my way through, not wanting to draw attention to myself any more than I had already. I was almost at the door when out of nowhere I ran straight in to this guy. He was solid - like running in to a wall. Fucking hell, I didn't want a scene with the guy on the door, not now. But looking up, it was him, Davey.

"What you doing here Cal?"

He was calm, surprised, but friendly. I was the total opposite. What was I going to say? I really hadn't thought his through at all. Why was I even there?

"Sorry Davey - I'll go."

"No way kid." His big hand on my arm felt electrifying. "Come and join us."

"No, really, I don't want to be in the way."

It was a bad excuse, but I couldn't think of anything else.

"You won't be in the way, come on."

He half pushed and half led me back towards the table with his friends. Someone pulled another chair over and I found myself sat next to Davey.

"Guys - this is Cal. Cal - this is Kati, Simon, and Mark."

There was a general round of good natured greetings, followed by a slightly awkward silence.

"So Davey", it was Kati, "is this the guy?"

Her emphasis of 'the guy' was pretty obvious, and I don't think she was even trying to be subtle. Amusement flickered around the group. I looked to Davey, as did everyone else.

"Yeah, this is Cal, they guy I told you about."

Apparently this was some kind of exciting news. I expect my confusion showed, and they guy who had originally seem me, Simon, explained a little more.

"We've heard all about you Cal."

I was surprised, and also excited. He'd told people about me. That means he must have been thinking about me.

"Several times" added Mark, rolling his eyes.

I could tell he was joking, everyone but Davey though it was amusing. OK, everyone but Davey and me.

"Oh, OK then."

I didn't know what else to say. I barely know what's going on myself.

"So what do you do?" asked Kati.

Fuck - I was totally unprepared for normal conversation. What do I say? 'Well, it's funny you mention that Kati, I steal cars for a living.' No I don't think so. If these are his friends then I wanted these people to like me - like really like me.

"I'm in sales." It wasn't a total lie - I do sell the cars.

"Wow - Simon worked in sales for a few years, didn't you. Who do you work for?"

Shut the fuck up Kati - I think it but don't say it.

"It's a small company, you won't have heard of them."

An easy lie. I think that Davey noticed my discomfort, his leg pressing ever so gently against mine as he intervened. My heart seemed to stutter as he did.

"OK, it's not an interview Kati, leave the little guy alone."

This again brought some amusement to the group, seemingly at Davey's expense. But the tension was broken and things seemed pretty relaxed, although I didn't really say very much, not knowing anyone they were talking about or really having anything in common with any of them. After an hour or so, Davey went to the bathroom, leaving me alone, with his friends. I didn't notice for a second or two, but all eyes were on me, their conversation had stopped.

"What?"

I tried to sound confident.

"So Cal, what's going on with you and Davey?"

It was Kati who spoke first.

"I, errrr, I dunno what you mean."

Fuck. What was I supposed to say? I mean, nothing was going on with us, not really. Apart from in my head. And even then only sort of.

"Well he told us about what happened last weekend, but we haven't really heard much more since then."

Seemingly the two guys were happy for Kati to take the lead in this interrogation.

"OK, well, I guess there's not much to tell, I just ran in to him here."

"Oh really?" Simon did nothing at all to disguise his tone of 'that's complete bollocks Cal', and no-one believed it anyway.

"OK, so, I was just saying thanks, that's all."

It was kind of true. I mean, I hadn't actually said much more than that. Had I even said that? I don't think I had. Fuck.

"And is that really all there is to it?"

Kati was obviously not buying it. As much as I tried not to, I think I started to blush. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Oh, I think maybe there is something else."

Simon this time, stating the fucking obvious, but trying to be really nice about it too. I was feeling trapped somehow. I don't do well in these kind of situations. My instinct is to punch the guy. I guess this was also obvious.

"OK, OK, we're just interested, that's all."

Mark tried to save the rapidly deteriorating moment. Unfortunately, Kati totally missed the mood and thought that teasing me was going to help.

"I think the boy has a crush on Davey. Are you in loooove with him?"

I can see now that she was taking the piss, but in the moment, it was too much, way too fucking much. I was feeling proper rage, way beyond the point of being able to process my thoughts and feelings logically, I was feeling attacked, and I wanted to punch someone. Thankfully, I managed to control myself enough to just leave, angry, no, furious, pushing people out of my way as I left the bar. I turned the corner and punched the wall a few times. It didn't really help other than to distract my head with a new feeling, and certainly didn't do anything to stop the tears forming, not matter how hard I tried.

"Cal!"

It was Davey, of course. Fucking hell, I really didn't want him to see me like this, especially after making such an idiot of myself in front of his friends. He stepped around the corner and saw me.

"Cal. What's going on?" He looked genuinely concerned. "What's wrong?"

He stepped towards me pulled me in to a hug. I was expecting pain, my ribs still bruised and tender. But I'd never felt anything quite like it before, being so totally contained, protected, and safe. My anger dissolved almost instantly, and to my immense embarrassment, I started to cry. I couldn't help it, everything suddenly felt way too intense, too much for me to handle - and words started spilling out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry Davey, I really am. I just wanted to see you, and you weren't at the club, and then you were here, and I didn't know what to do. And then your friends started asking me what was going on, and I don't know. I really don't know. You're such a nice guy an I don't even know if you like me and..."

"Cal, it's OK, I'm…" But I didn't hear him, or at least it didn't register with my stupid brain.

"…you don't even know anything about me, and if you did you probably wouldn't ever talk to me again…"

"Cal, really, it's OK…"

"…and now I've spoiled your night out and all of your friends probably think I'm a fucking idiot and you probably think that too. You probably just came out here to tell me to…"

He didn't try talking to me again. Instead, he kissed me. Not some big dramatic movie scene kiss, just a normal, soft, gentle kiss. I looked at him, silent, confused, shocked.

"I really don't know how this is going to go Cal, but unless you stop me, I'm going to do that again."

I didn't move. I don’t think I could have, and I didn’t want to. He kissed me again. Now don't get me wrong, there weren't any choirs of angels or orchestras or anything, but I'm pretty sure that for just a few seconds the entire fucking world shrunk so that there was just him and me in it.

"I'm going home now. If you want, you can come with me, and tell me what the fuck it is you're going on about."

His smile was infectious, and my body was still buzzing from the sensation of being held so completely. I nodded, still totally unsure why, but it kind of felt like a good idea.