FOR THE next couple of weeks, the coaches ran them hard, trying to get them to sustain their crop of wins, so Sam was distracted from his task of trying to get Micah a boyfriend. Micah thought it amusing that Sam didn’t use the more blokey “laid,” as het males seemed to do with one another—but maybe that was because Sam was properly shacked up with Maia, and he knew Micah wanted more than just a one-night stand.
Which was ironic, as he didn’t know that Micah was having no trouble getting laid. Micah made use of the tools at his disposal and never lacked for “company” when he desired it. He covered his tracks well, though, fitting in quickies just after training and before he arrived back home at Sam’s in North Beach—usually encumbered with some shopping to excuse his tardiness.
He’d even done what had been unthinkable before—and after one encounter with a cute guy only a couple of years older than himself, he hadn’t blocked him. He’d thought he had been leaving the door open for something more to develop, but he never heard from him again. Had Micah been blocked? If so, was it karma firmly kicking him in the arse for having done it to so many other guys? It was his turn.
Still, it did play with his head a little. What was so bad about him that he had been blocked? Had he not been… good… enough?
Or maybe the other guy was in the same headspace as he had been, and was blocking before anything else could happen.
He was starting to wish his mother’s idea of the “gay book club” was an actual thing—it seemed a whole lot less grubby for a start. Not that he wanted to denigrate anybody’s use of apps to find people, but he was feeling that maybe his use of them was coming to an end.
Until he found himself using it again four nights later.
Arriving back home, he showered and had barely thrown himself onto his bed when there was a knock on his door.
“Enter!” he yelled.
Sam did so, and flopped next to him.
“Darling, not when Maia’s home!” Micah protested.
“Funny. Where did you disappear off to after training?”
Thinking quickly on his feet, Micah once again spun out a smooth lie. “Stopped off in Mount Hawthorn at that book store I like. It’s getting close to Alex’s birthday.”
“Did you get him anything?”
“No. Got some ideas, though.” Such a lie. There were a million things one could buy for Alex there. It was a nerd’s paradise.
“You should have stuck around after training. Had a talk with the guys.”
Micah rolled over onto his side, feeling a little unnervingly close to Sam. He was lying on his back, hands clasped upon his chest, staring up at the ceiling. “Am I being fired?”
“We wish, but, no. We’ve decided to have a little team bonding.”
“No thanks. I’ve heard about hazing. I don’t want to end up on the news with everyone knowing I’ve had an oil enema.”
“Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Oh, is that not what you guys do now?”
“We’re not the military, man!”
He sounded like an old hippie, coming out with sentences like that. “Okay, spill. What’s the plan, man?”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Never!” Micah lied.
“Well, if you stayed after training every now and again maybe we wouldn’t need extra bonding sessions.”
There was a dig there, and Micah knew it was deserved. It only served to make him more conflicted on his after-hours activities. Was it really worth all the subterfuge—couldn’t he just become more inventive at wanking? It wasn’t like he didn’t do it anyway, even with his “app” sessions.
“I will make more of an effort,” he said guiltily.
“Just riding you,” Sam said. “The guys are up for any socialising, really. So that’s why we’re going to take a walk on the Micah side.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re taking you to Perth’s premier gay nightclub.”
“Don’t you mean its only gay nightclub?”
“Well, The Court has dance nights, but it’s mainly a pub, so, okay, technically, yes. Connections is our only gay nightclub.”
Micah couldn’t help it; he felt nervous. “Are you sure they’re okay about this?”
“They wouldn’t be coming if they weren’t,” Sam told him. “And, okay, not everybody’s coming, but it’s not because of the gay thing. We don’t have a hundred percent attendance at every event we have. Besides, I don’t think Northbridge would survive the whole team out on the piss at once.”
“Northbridge? How about the clientele at Connections? They’ll probably spontaneously combust with excitement.”
“What, at the state’s very own gay AFL hero rocking the joint with them?”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re going to find the love of your life there.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you meet Maia at a club?”
“Actually, I did.”
“Really?” Micah couldn’t keep the scepticism out of his tone.
“Yeah, really.” There was a brief pause, as Sam self-consciously scratched his chest. “But she was a friend of a friend, and we were kinda set up.”
“You haven’t planted someone there for me, have you?” Micah asked.
“No! But… we also think it’s maybe a good thing to do to show the public we support you, what with the slur at the Collingwood game and everything.”
“It seems everybody is making more fuss about that than the actual gay guy.”
“And I know why that is. You don’t want to look like a troublemaker.”
Micah laughed softly. “Oh, believe me, I never have a problem looking like a troublemaker.”
“You know what I mean. If the team shows they don’t care, hopefully it will rub off on the supporters.”
“There are a lot more supportive people than there are guys like that dickhead.”
“Maybe. But we want to stamp on it.”
“Like the AFL cured racism?” Micah couldn’t resist the dig.
Sam frowned. He couldn’t argue with that. “Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“And look what happened there,” Micah said.
“They invented pizza.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder and rolled off the bed. “They did okay.”
KNOWING THAT his team was prepared to go to such efforts to make him feel welcome lightened Micah’s heart considerably. At training the next day Craig told him he actually felt sorry that Micah had to go to a gay bar with them.
“Why’s that?” Micah asked.
“Because it’s bloody obvious we’re going to pick up far more than you will.”