The singer - Part IV

The Christmas holidays passed fairly quickly, and on the 30th I headed back ‘home’ to university. Classes didn’t start for ages yet, but I’d arranged to spend New Year’s Eve in town with some friends.

I got back to my student house and opened my mailbox. There was a note from K inside.

“Don’t know when you are getting back to town, I’m here already. I’m bored and depressed after the usual family rubbish. Come over when you get back.”

Well, I kind of ignored the note – the mailbox had given me plenty of other things to worry about – phone bill, electricity bill, library book reminders, new timetable for school…not what a boy wants to come home to.

That evening, with my housemates still at their respective familial homes, I lay on my bed and watched crappy TV. I had a beer or four. I ordered a pizza and ate that. I was asleep before the News at Ten. The doorbell woke me up. It was K. But then you knew that it would be, didn’t you?

“Let’s go get last orders”. He said. The pub was at the end of the street, fifty metres from my house. I agreed.

Apparently K had downed a couple of beers, then walked the streets looking for a light switched on in a friendly house. Mine had been the first one he’d seen. At least, this is what he told me.

At the pub, we had a couple of beers and chatted. Neither of us mentioned the pre-Christmas weirdness. We headed back to mine, so that we could share a joint or two, nothing unusual in that – it was something we’d done before. I made us tea and we ate digestive biscuits while smoking some very fine hash. It was a very English scene.

“Can I stay here?” he said. In the absence of a sofa, or a comfortable chair in the house, we were lying on the bed, and were listening to Oasis.

“Sure”, said I. “But there’s only here”, I said, meaning my bed. “Everyone else is away and their rooms are locked”.

“That’s what I was hoping”, he said.

While he was in the bathroom I quickly undressed, modestly, to my t-shirt and shorts. I got into bed. He came back in the room. He undressed. He did this without looking at me. He knew that this would mean that I could watch, which I did, with pleasure. Unlike me, he wasn’t overly modest.

Naked, he climbed into bed next to me.

“I hope that you aren’t planning on keeping those on for very long”, he said, and he tugged at my shorts. The night passed too quickly. Neither of us got much sleep.

The next day, he headed back to his place to change. We arranged to meet for drinks before I went off to see the New Year in with some other friends.

To my surprise, he turned up at 8 o’clock as promised. Equally to my surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“I haven’t seen you in ages! How was your Christmas?” said Jenny, his beautiful, intelligent, lusted-after-by-all-straight-men girlfriend as they sat down with their drinks.

“It was, erm, unexpectedly interesting” I said, looking at K, who was looking devotedly at Jenny.

“That’s good” she said, “Did Santa send you that hot guy you’ve been asking him for?”

“He did” I replied. “But it seems I unwrapped someone else’s gift by mistake.”