Page 47 of Worth the Wait
Nathan stopped short, turned to face him. “She ain’t my girlfriend.”
“No?” Freddie’s tone was clipped, acidic. “Oh. ‘Cause I heard that you and she—”
“Can we go?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Yours?”
Freddie folded his arms, lips set in a hard line. For a second, Nathan thought he was going to walk away, leave him standing there to stew in it. But then Freddie looked at him properly and the heat behind his eyes softened.
“Fine.” Freddie hurled the bottle into the hedgerow. It landed with a muted fizz, blue liquid bleeding into the undergrowth. “Let’s head down the pier. I don’t fancy going home yet.”
Nathan nodded. He didn’t want to go home either. Not back to his dad. Not to that cold, boxy room in a house thathadn’t felt like a home in years. And he sure as fuck didn’t want to be alone right then. Not with the memory of that bedroom clinging to his skin. What he’d done sat heavy on his chest. Heavier than regret, and felt more than just a bad decision. He didn’t trust himself to sit with it. Not yet. Not if it meant facing the truth that he’d acted like a complete prick.
Yet… he didn’t know how to talk to Freddie about it, either.
He’d understand though, right?
He had to.
By the time they reached the seafront, the world had quieted to a hush. The pubs were shut, neon lights twinkling in empty windows, and the last of the fish and chip wrappers danced along the pavement in the breeze. Freddie pulled his jacket tighter as they meandered past shuttered amusements, the tang of brine wafting in the air. The pier loomed ahead, weather-beaten and grey, its wooden huts creaking faintly in the wind, seagulls roosting in the eaves. The ocean hissed below, dark and restless.
“So… you gonna talk about it?” Freddie’s voice barely cut above the wind, and his eyes were trained on the horizon.
“About what?”
“You just lost your virginity, right? To Katie Brewer.”
Nathan sighed. “Yeah.”
Freddie shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “Was it good? You feel like a man now? Did she… suck you off?”
Nathan whipped his head around. “Jesus, Fred.”
“What?” Freddie shrugged, trying for casual. “Only asking.”
“It was shit.”
Freddie laughed.
Nathan shoved him. “Fuck you.”
“No, ta. Least wipe it first.”
That earned him a look, and for a second, Freddie held it, before glancing away again, back to the surf and sky and safe distance.
Nathan hesitated, then circled back. “Ain’t it meant to feel good?”
Freddie’s reply came quiet, almost thrown to the wind. “Asking the wrong bloke.”
They reached the edge of the pier where Nathan hopped down to the pebble beach, his Nikes crunching on stone. He clambered over the rocks towards their old hiding spot. Beneath the pier, shadowed from the world, where the tide rolled in shy of their feet and the rest of Worthbridge faded into wind and sea.
Freddie followed, his worn Converse slipping on the stones, cap pulled low, watching Nathan from the corner of his eye.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked.
Nathan crouched by the driftwood beam. “They egged me on. You weren’t there. She’s been on me for ages. Thought I’d get it over with.”
