‘You avoiding the work, or something else? If Ol’ Doaty’s giving you shit then—’
‘I can handle Doaty,’ Rory snapped back. Too vehemently. He clammed up as he registered Graham’s shrewd frown.
‘You’re avoiding someone though. I’m right, aren’t I?’
Rory focused on the water again. His own blurred reflection rippled below. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’
Graham was right on the money. But how to explain that the person he was trying to avoid was himself?
Rory daren’t go out on the water alone. Where he’d be caught between the sea and sky with nothing but the thoughts in his head. He didn’t trust himself not to dive in.
Since Fionn had put the idea into his mind, Rory couldn’t shake it. That some intrinsic part of him might belong elsewhere. That a different future beckoned under the waves, where the chains of Ullapool couldn’t reach him.
His skin itched.
Rory rubbed his arms, trying to chase away the sensation. But it had been crawling all over him for days now. This deep, uncomfortable urge to step out of his skin.
Graham jolted him back into the present moment. ‘Come with me. We’re gunna have a drink.’
‘I’m not in the mood for the club—’
‘Nah, just you an’ me. No arguing. Move yer boots.’
He didn’t give Rory chance to argue, anyway. Graham grabbed hold of Rory’s shoulders and forcefully steered him down to the jetty. They boarded Graham’s skiff, the little boat he used to reach the catamaran when it was moored in the middle of the harbour.
Rory plopped onto a bench while Graham navigated them out into the loch. It was pleasant to hear the hubbub of the town drain away, replaced by the gentle wash of waves against the hull. When they’d reached a suitably peaceful spot Graham killed the engine and rummaged under his seat for a case of beer.
‘Go on then,’ Graham said, passing Rory a can. ‘What’s your trouble?’
For a split-second Rory considered coming right out with it. Graham was a straightforward man, not one to bother with metaphor or hypotheticals. And yet, the words got stuck in Rory’s throat.
‘Have you… Have you always known you were gay?’ he settled for instead.
‘Aye. More or less.’ Graham cracked open his beer. The can let out a satisfying hiss. ‘You work it out pretty quick after you’ve sucked a cock or two.’ He grinned, knowing this would make Rory cringe.
‘But you knew you wanted to do that in the first place,’ Rory mumbled back. ‘To suck a… You wanted to suck someone’s dick. Like did you just wake up one day wanting one in your mouth or…’ He trailed off, losing the weak thread of questioning he was attempting to follow.
‘What’s this about, Rory?’ The humour drained from Graham’s voice. ‘You ain’tneverasked me about sucking dick before. You don’t even join in with banter about it.’
Rory shifted uncomfortably under Graham’s stare. ‘Just crass, innit. Anyway I always thought you took those jokes because it’s just… how people are, round here. Dunno why you don’t throw hands over it, sometimes. I wouldn’t like to be called a cocksucker, even for a joke,’ he added, staring down at his beer.
Graham was quiet for a minute. ‘Yer a good one, Rory. I’d wager that’s why.’ He tapped the side of his can, affecting nonchalance. ‘Is this about that fella you got off with?’
Rory went rigid. There wasno fucking wayGraham knew about Fionn. ‘What fella?’
‘Oh, untwist yer knickers. The one you snogged in the club the other week.’
‘I didn’t know he was a—’
‘Right, right.’ Graham waved the pointless protest away. ‘But it’s got you questioning yourself, has it? That’s what this is all about?’
Rory nodded mutely.
‘Rory, mate, I can safely say that one nice snog off a lad ain’t gonna turn you gay. Even if you liked it, there’s no reason to goworrying, right? You do have a habit of getting in your own head, like. The facts is: snogging is nice, end of.’
‘I let him finger me, too.’
Graham sprayed foam across the deck. ‘You what?’ he choked.
