Page 8 of Unexpected Boyfriends

“Ugh.” Justin shudders. “I think I’ll skip the rock walking.”

“They’re actually really shy creatures. Just don’t stick your hand in any rockpools or crevices and you’ll be fine.”

“Even so…”

“Coastal rock walks are fun,” I assure him. “I used to do it all the time. There’s even a spot with this massive blowhole, where the water rushes in through a narrow crevice and then blows spray in the air as it bursts through on the other end.”

“Imagine that on a big surf day,” Justin muses.

“You can’t get to it when the seas are rough,” I tell him. “You have to walk around the rocks to get there and there are places where it’s difficult to get around, or others where it gets cut off by the tide. The tide has to be just right to reach it. That’s why not many people know about it, ‘cause it’s not easy to get to.”

“Sounds cool,” says Justin, “Kind of a secret spot that you have to be in the know to find.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

We’re quiet for a few minutes, absorbed in our own thoughts. Then I have a really good idea. And the more I think about it, the more I like this idea.

“Would you like to see it?”

“See what?”

“The blowhole.”

Justin’s eyes light up. “Really? You’d show it to me?”

I can see the idea excites him, which makes me feel even more convinced I should do it.

“Yes,” I tell him, “You can be an honorary local, but you’ll have to swear an oath never to reveal the location to an outsider or I’ll have to silence you forever.”

“No problem. I’m good at swearing.” And Justin winks at me. “Can’t have you taking over my mouth.”

He’s flirting again.

JUSTIN

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

I’d completely let down my guard around Axel and starting flirting. Unlike the low-key subtle flirting at lunchtime, which could just have easily been witty repartee, he’s probably looking at this very differently since it’s only a short while ago that I admitted to him that I’m gay.

Axel doesn’t say anything more about taking me out to the blowhole, so I assume I’ve blown it with my silly slip.

I’m upset with myself over the misstep, but I don’t know what to say to correct it without digging myself even further into the hole. So, I say nothing. Our silences seem awkward after that, but maybe it’s just me being over-sensitive. I don’t know.

Not long after, we trek back up the hill to the house. My muscles are making complaints after the hours of exercise at the beach, and we complete the trip up with barely a word said between us.

Axel’s parents are still there and they get up from their seats smiling when we enter the house.

“Oh, there you boys are. We were just thinking we’d have to come down and get you.”

“Did you have a nice time at the beach, dear?” my grandmother directs the question at me.

I flush a little, but my cheeks are already pink from the sun, so I doubt anyone notices.

“Yeah. It was pretty good. Axel showed me how to bodysurf.”

“He’s a fast learner,” Axel chimes in. “He’s already got the hang of it.”

It’s the nicest thing he’s said to me (or about me) since my mistake with the flirting, and I appreciate it.

---