“Is that why you came to Brighton then?” I hadn’t known much about Brighton’s reputation as the gay capital until I came to the Open Day and realised there was a disproportionate number of rainbow flags hanging from windows. I had soon got over my small-town girl shock at seeing same-sex couples everywhere and now loved its diversity.
“Yeah, I had all these dreams about being accepted, maybe even finding someone to love… you know, getting my happy-ever-after. But it hasn’t been like that. Yes, I’ve been able to be open about who I am, but it’s like I’m in the nursery class and everyone else has already moved on to high school. I don’t know what I’m doing, Neve. I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never even held another guy’s hand. For the first time in my entire life, I’m surrounded by other boys who like boys and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.” Looking at him, I could see how much emotion had gone into opening up like this and I didn’t want to demean it with a joke. I took both his hands in mine.
“Let’s make that the plan on Thursday night.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to Seventh Heaven, aren’t we? Let’s get you to at least first base.”
“You can’t plan stuff like that!”
“Why can’t you? You saw how much snogging was going on when we went last time. Maybe you won’t find your happy-ever-after, but we can at least get you out of first school. What do you reckon, aim for Year 7? Kissing? A little bit of touching, maybe?”
“What are you going to be doing while this is happening, supposing that it does? Watching from the sidelines? Because, frankly, that would be more than a bit weird.”
“No, like the fairy godmother I am, I will be the one making sure you get home before midnight, leaving the prince desperate to find you again.”
“Oh, my God, Neve, I love you! Only you could turn me into Cinderella!”
Dusk had now settled, blurring the sea and sky and chilling the evening air as we made our way back to campus.
Unknown: How much for an hour?
Struggling to read the text through sleepy eyes, I figured it was a wrong number. After all, it had been sent at three that morning, so definitely wasn’t intended for me.
By the end of the morning, I had received four more texts from unknown numbers, each one asking for increasingly-graphic, specific sexual services. I’d also received a phone call from an unknown number. By that point, I knew this wasn’t a case of someone calling a wrong number and could only come to one conclusion. Garrett.
I showed the texts to Mickey over lunch, hoping he might come up with a less-worrying theory. He couldn’t. In fact, his was worse.
“These texts are sent from unknown numbers, Neve.”
“I know.”
“But how can you send a text anonymously? Sure, you can use 141 to make a call anonymous, but how can you do that on a text? I’ve never heard of it. Even spam texts have a number.” Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure but I don’t think it’s anything good. Do you think it could be Garrett? If it is, this is more sinister than him sending you a few pissed-off messages. This is stalker territory.” Just as his words were sinking in, my phone rang. We both watched it judder across the table, the word ‘Unknown’ taunting me from the screen. Again, the call was ended before the voicemail kicked in. I checked the time.
“Garrett is in class right now, so it can’t be him.”
“Come off it, Neve. We’ve all hidden our phone and sent a secret text or two in lectures. That would only have taken a couple of taps under the desk.” I knew Mickey was right but didn’t want to admit it would be that uneasy to unsettle me as much as those texts and calls had. I thought back to Cass’s advice after the flowers.
“I’m going to see Campus Security. They’ll know what to do.” Because I didn’t.
Within an hour, I had got my phone provider to block any anonymous calls or texts. The girl at the CS desk had said I didn’t need to contact the police unless things carried on. I tried not to think about what those things might be.
I made sure to avoid even looking in Garrett’s direction during my Lit lecture and permanently rescheduled our shared seminar to a different timeslot so I wouldn’t have to sit in such close proximity to him. If only cutting him out of the rest of my life was that easy.
Mickey came to my room for a couple of nerve-reducing drinks before we took a cab to Seventh Heaven. After an hour of dancing, we somehow managed to find a couple of chairs close to the DJ booth, and I took the opportunity to find out more about Mickey’s taste in men.
“So, the blonde guy by the bar, in the red shirt, how many out of ten?”
“Umm, six? Too short.” So he liked tall guys.
“What about him at the other end of the bar? Beard and black top.”
“Four? That beard makes him look like a pantomime villain.” No facial hair then. I scoured the room, looking for a tall, clean-shaven guy worthy of my BBFF.
“Ooh, what about him? He’s gorgeous!”