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Jack took a deep breath. “Okay. No being a dickhead, no stealing, and pay the rent on time. Got it. I just need to bring the TV in and I’m done.”
Harry perked up at that. “What TV?” They were currently the owners of an ancient sixteen-inch set that lost sound sporadically. It was a remnant of housemates past.
“It’s not that fancy,” Jack said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s newer than yours, so it’ll stream Netflix.”
“Netflix?” Okay, Harry hadn't meant his voice to come out all high and squeaky like that, but this was a serious development.
Jack grinned. “Yeah. It’s my one luxury.”
“Our one luxury,” Harry said, grinning right back.
“Yeah. Ours.”
This, Harry, decided, might just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
By the end of the day, Jack was definitely Harry's new favourite person. Not only had he cleaned up the kitchen, he’d also gone to Woolies and done an honest-to-God grocery run—he’d even bought fresh fruit. Harry felt healthier just from looking at the string bag full of oranges. He might even eat one, at some point. Harry wasn’t sure if it was because Jack was just a decent person or if it was because he still felt guilty over the whole near-death thing, but frankly, he didn’t care. There was food in the fridge, and considering Harry’s feet weren’t making that weird sticking-to-the-lino sound when he walked across the kitchen floor anymore, Jack’s motivation was unimportant.
“I really appreciate this,” Jack said from where he’d plopped down into the ugly armchair after he’d finished cleaning. “Staying at Mia’s was starting to wear thin, and it’s super hard to find a rental.”
“Don’t I know it,” Harry said, still sprawled on the couch. “Our landlord only keeps this place and charges us low rent to spite his family. They want him to sell it, but he reckons they can wait till he dies, which might be never—it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he’s some kind of immortal. He gives off that vibe.”
“He sounds like a character.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s very old and slightly mad, and rich enough that his family has to be nice to him. He made his money in sex shops, I think. You know, back when the Cross was super shady and all the men had porn-star moustaches and wore gold medallions.”
“And before the internet.” Jack grinned. “When you needed a trench coat and a pair of dark glasses to buy a good-quality dildo.”
Harry almost choked on his spit. Despite the topic, for some reason the idea of Jack buying a dildo was unexpected, and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. He forced himself to laugh. “Right.”
Talking about sex made him uncomfortable. Not because he was a prude or anything. It just felt like accidentally sitting down with a bunch of science nerds on campus and listening to them talk about string theory. However hard he tried, Harry just didn’t get it. He always felt out of his depth and spent his time worrying that it showed. What if Jack asked him about his experience with dildos? What would he say? Was there some sort of sizing system or gradient scale he was meant to know about? Or was it okay not to know these things because he wasn’t gay? At least, he didn’t think he was. He didn’t think he was anything.
Wait, did that mean Jack was gay? He’d never even asked. Straight guys liked dildos too, right? At least, Tris claimed the straight guys he slept with did. Then again, if they were sleeping with Tris, maybe they weren’t reliably self-reporting their heterosexuality.
Why did sex have to be so complicated, and why the fuck did everyone always talk about it?
Jack tilted his head. “Are you okay?”
“Just thinking about dildos,” Harry blurted out, and felt himself flush red. “Nothing. Forget it.” He averted his gaze and studied the back of his hand, hoping Jack didn’t ask him to explain.
Jack didn’t. Instead, he said, “Um. Not to harp on or anything, but. I still feel bad that I put you in hospital. And I was wondering, are you going to get an ambulance bill now? Because I could help with that.”
It was a welcome change of topic and Harry seized on it. “Nah, Mum buys me and my sister a year’s worth of ambulance cover every Christmas. She says you never know when you’ll need it, and it turns out she’s right.”
Something like relief flitted over Jack’s face, and Harry wondered just how much of a strain it would have been on Jack’s budget if Harry had taken him up on his offer. He suspected Jack would have paid anyway though, because he was starting to get an inkling that Jack was just that sort of guy.
“I feel like I should replace your shirt at least,” Jack said, and Harry took a moment to appreciate that his assessment was correct, and that Jack was not, in fact, a bastard. Okay, maybe they’d both been quick to judge.
He didn’t want to break Jack’s bank, though. Jack was only an apprentice, and he’d already shelled out for groceries and EpiPens, so Harry shrugged. “It’s fine. It was from Kmart, so I don’t think the four bucks is gonna break me.”
“Are you sure? We can go shopping on Saturday.” Jack didn’t look convinced.
“It’s fine. Besides, I have a date on Saturday.” He couldn’t quite interpret the look that crossed Jack’s face at his mention of dating, but it made him feel awkward that Jack was awkward. “With this girl, Angie. It's a pretty basic level of bad-date bastardry. I should be kicked out and home by three, and it’s worth a hundred bucks.”
He saw the second the penny dropped, and Jack went from awkward to…relieved? “Oh, one of those dates.”
“Yeah.” Harry sat up straight on the couch and concentrated on his feet, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “Anyway, I should go and do some work, I guess. I skipped uni today so I should at least do something.”
“What are you studying again?”
