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“Why the rush then? Stay for dinner,” Joq said.
“I’ve got, I forgot,” Finn hiked his shorts up his thighs, over his ass, his eyes on his hands fastening the laces, “plans,” he finished lamely and reached for his hoodie.
“I’ll walk you out,” George said and was getting out of the pool before Joq could say anything.
He watched as George grabbed his own shorts and pulled them on quickly, Finn waiting next to him and looking anywhere but at Joq, at George, at the pool.
“Later, Finn,” Joq said.
Finn smiled at his feet, waved, and didn’t look back as he went ahead and George followed.
Joq sighed and swam for a bit. He dropped under the water. When he resurfaced, he expected George to be there. He wasn’t. Joq got out, wrapped a towel around himself and went into the kitchen. He could hear them in the hallway, their voices quiet. Joq crept closer.
“You know we’re together. And someday you’ll find someone—
“Stop saying that!” Finn cut George off. He was keeping his voice down, but he was definitely angry.
“It’s true,” George said, hushed but firm. “You’re still so young, you don’t get it.”
“You were eighteen when you got together with him,” Finn hissed.
“It’s different,” George said. “We were both young. Someday you’ll meet someone your own age and you’ll…” Joq could hear how he couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Yeah, okay,” Finn sounded really mad now. The door opened. “Go fuck your boyfriend then.”
The door slammed and something crashed into it. Joq’s eyes widened when he realised what he was hearing—George had stopped Finn from leaving and was now clearly kissing him up against the door. He could hear Finn moaning into the kiss, the sound of George shoving him into the wood, then the sound of their combined panting breaths as they broke apart.
“I just…” George whispered.
“You just what?” Finn sounded desperate.
Joq found himself desperately hanging on to hear what George had to say as well. George didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily.
“You should go,” George said after a long moment.
Joq could hear nothing but their breathing and then the sound of the door opening and closing. He backed up into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
George came in and met Joq’s eyes. He sighed.
“How much did you hear?” he asked.
Joq slammed the fridge. “Enough.”
George shook his head, folded his arms over his chest.
“Are you in love with him?” Joq was proud of himself for getting the question out there.
“I…” George looked lost for a second. He shut it down. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s a crush. It’s just fucking. It’s the season, it’s intense,” he waved his hand.
Joq nodded his head, but all he could hear was that suspended moment of “I…”, and all he could see was the lost look on George’s face.
“I’m gonna shower,” Joq said and went to go past him.
George stopped him with a hand on his bicep. “It’s just fucking.”
Joq wondered who he was trying to convince.
He jerked his chin and shrugged out of the hold. “You might want to tell him that,” he said and left George in the kitchen.
