Beau Chapter 1

Beau brushed his fringe out of his eyes as he walked into the Moroccan restaurant. Making towards the hostess, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror behind her, eyes darting reflexively to the little scar above his eyebrow. Beau realised his jaw looked tense, his nerves practically written across his face. Drawing a steadying breath, he allowed his muscles to loosen slightly, but then the hostess asked for his reservation and his heart leapt into his mouth.
         Breathe, he told himself. This is silly. It's just a date.
         "Do you have a reservation?" the woman asked again.
         "Aaron," Beau replied awkwardly, and, while she checked her list, he peered around at the interior to see if his date had arrived yet. In the central part of the restaurant there were round tables set just a few feet off the floor, surrounded by velvet cushions in place of chairs. These were occupied mainly by families - no sign of Aaron. Smaller booths lined the one circular wall of the restaurant. These looked more suited for couples, each one shaded by draping fabrics of varying colours so that each one was secluded from the next. It was impossible to tell if his date was here yet.
         "Follow me," the hostess said and Beau's heart skipped a beat.
         The restaurant was lit with candles on tabletops and lanterns hanging from bronze chains that emitted a warm glow. Coloured fabrics were draped from the ceiling, the floor was dark wood and the sturdy tables were fringed with burnished gold. It all felt strange and exotic. There were jewelled tassels and sparkling sequins everywhere Beau looked. It was the most unlikely place he could think of for a date with Aaron King. Had he picked the place in an attempt to impress Beau? The truth was, Beau would've been happy with a film and a bucket of popcorn - much safer territory for a first date (no need to talk).
         Some people rambled when they were nervous but that wasn't a problem for Beau, in fact his issue was the exact opposite. When he was nervous, Beau's brain had an annoying tendency to go silent. His head would empty like his brain had turned to liquid.
         Just don't get worked up, he told himself as he was led around a family happily dining on their floor cushions. Stay calm and talk about school or football... No. I don't know anything about football. Don't talk about football.
         His hands clenched and unclenched, his nails intermittently digging into his palms.
         Following the hostess, Beau glanced into each fabric-covered booth. At one table, a couple leaned across the small space between them, the woman laughing. There was something charged and private about it. He looked away. Finally they stopped by a booth on the far side of the restaurant, covered like the others in draping fabric - red.
         Beau's heart fluttered at the sight of Aaron King. He sat fidgeting in his seat but his body froze the moment he clapped eyes on Beau. A silent moment passed. Beau stood awkwardly at the edge of the table while the hostess nodded politely and busily shuffled away.
         The two of them were left alone and they exchanged a brief, uncertain glance, Aaron's cheeks reddening until he turned his attention to a chip in the table. The bench seat squeaked as Beau sat down and he gratefully reached for the glass of water that had been poured for him. Beau hadn't yet looked back up at Aaron. He cleared his throat, picked up his menu, then put it back down again to take another sip of water.
         Think of something to say, he told himself, clutching tightly to the table. My hands are sweating. I hope I don't get sweaty armpits. Why did I wear a white shirt? It'll show up. I'll look like I'm growing puddles.
         Beau decided to bite the bullet. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and looked up, ready to comment blandly on the niceness of the restaurant.
         "You do that a lot," Aaron said in his gravelly voice before Beau could speak. Beau felt a bizarre thrill at the sound of that voice. He was on a date with Aaron King. Aaron King had asked him out!
         Okay, calm down, he told himself.
         He shook himself out of his thoughts to find Aaron looking at him expectantly.
         Crap. What was the question?
         As if he'd read his mind, Aaron repeated what he'd said, his hand rubbing his neck self-consciously as he spoke. "Your hair. You flick it to the side all the time."
         Beau nodded. Did he do that all the time? Wait. Aaron King has watched me enough to notice something I do all the time!
         A grin spread across Beau's face while opposite him, Aaron had turned red and was fidgeting with his menu.
         At least I'm not the only one who's nervous, Beau thought. He made a show of looking at his own menu to try to disguise the fact that he wasn't sure what to say. He'd never questioned his ability to form a sentence quite this strongly before - and that was saying something.
         Where's the service in here? he thought, eyes searching the restaurant for a sight of a member of staff.
         By the time the waitress appeared, Beau was worried their silence had set some sort of world record. There was an audible relief when the skinny, blond-haired woman arrived with her notepad and they were able to order their food. In truth, Beau was quietly dreading the moment they were left alone again. Thankfully, Aaron cleared his throat the moment she left the table. Apparently realising Beau was a non-starter in the conversation department, he fired off a few questions. How had he found the place? (Mum dropped him off.) How was he finding his A-Levels? (English was good, History was boring, Art was time consuming.) And what were his plans for next year? (No idea.)
         "So," Aaron began, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "do you do this a lot?"
         "You mean: 'go on dates'?"
         He nodded.
         "No," Beau replied, "not really. No. Nope."
         Beau clamped his jaw tight. One 'no' would've been fine, Beau, he said to himself. I think he got the message - no dates, ever.
         "Do you?" Beau asked in an attempt at a casual tone.
         "Not with..." His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "I've always been with girls. Have you ever been with a girl?"
         Beau shook his head, embarrassed.
         Maybe I should change the topic to football after all.
         "How about with a guy?" he asked. "Have you ever done anything with a guy?"
         Aaron had turned a deep shade of red and Beau was pretty sure his own cheeks were emitting a radioactive glow.
         Beau stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Surely this wasn't normal first date conversation?
         He's probably curious because he's never been out with a guy before... And he hopes I might be more experienced...?          Beau felt his heart sink. Should I lie? No, stick to the truth. Damn my pits are sweating like mad.
         "No," Beau finally answered. "I've been asked out a couple times"-(twice by the same guy)-"but he wasn't really my type I guess." In truth he was very much Beau's type but he also happened to be his next-door neighbour and seemed to date/sleep with/flirt with anything that breathed.
         Aaron took a long sip of water and then awkwardly fingered the chip in the table, meanwhile Beau wondered if he shouldn't have made up some story about an ex-boyfriend. Let's be realistic, this was Aaron King. He was probably used to sexually experienced girlfriends, definitely not a seventeen (nearly eighteen) year old guy who was still conspicuously a virgin.
         "So," Aaron said, eyes fixed on the table, and Beau had a feeling another personal question was coming his way, "you've never been with a guy for just... you know."
         The spicy, incensed smell of the restaurant seemed to become cloying in that moment. Beau opened his mouth to answer and then swiftly changed his mind. Yes, it was only natural to want to know about your partner's past experiences but wasn't that something that usually waited until a bit later on? They'd barely spoken to one another yet now he wanted to talk about Beau's sexual history? He looked around at the dimly lit room, hoping the question would die a quiet death if he ignored it for long enough.
         Where was the food? They'd ordered ages ago.
         "Beau?" Aaron pressed, his voice a little strained.
         "I hope the food arrives soon," Beau said evasively. "I'm starving."
         Aaron opened his mouth to reply when his phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket.
         Don't answer it, Beau thought, trying to hold out some hope for this date. Just ignore the call.
         He put the phone to his ear.
         "Yeah I know," he said after a moment. "I'm going to." He looked at Beau and smiled awkwardly. "I will. Okay. Yeah."
         He put the phone back in his pocket.
         "Sorry," he said. "My mum was making sure I'd be home by ten."
         Beau gave a brief smile in response and tried to remember the events that had led up to this moment - this surreal moment on a date with Aaron King.
         Aaron had sneaked out of football practise and met him in the alley behind school.
         "You walk this way every day," he'd said. "I wanted to catch you."
         Beau had lost his voice along with any other social skills at that point. Aaron King. Those two words just kept repeating in his head.
         "The truth is..."
         Aaron had gone on to reveal that he was bisexual and that he liked Beau.
         "One date," he'd said. "It'll have to be out of town. I'll message you on Facebook, send you my number."
         Obviously, Beau had assumed it was some kind of prank. Even when the Facebook message had popped up on his phone from none other than Aaron King - a message that ended with three kisses and a smiley face - Beau had been certain this was all a big joke. However, he'd added Aaron as a phone contact and messaged him that evening with a lukewarm:
         Got your message. This is Beau by the way x
         The reply had been fairly instantaneous:
         Glad you text. Was worried wouldn't hear from you. Wuu2? xxx
         This had led to a series of messages that had lasted days, a constant update of the day-to-day minutiae of their lives. Beau had started to find himself instantly going to his phone every time something noteworthy happened in order to update Aaron, who in turn would reply with his own simple: just watching TV, studying in my room, so bored, just beat my brother at an arm wrestle.
It had been strange having such a close insight into the life of Aaron King - arguably the most popular boy in year 13.
         After a week of messaging, the date was finally arranged. Saturday night, The Marrakech. Beau must have tried on everything in his wardrobe twice before settling on pale, skinny jeans and a tight, black shirt.
         How had innocuous texts and even one phone call, which had focussed around which Netflix TV shows were in their top ten (something that had required more than simple texting to sort out), culminated in a date where the conversation revolved around          Beau's previous sexual exploits?
         There was now an uncomfortable silence between them, broken eventually by the arrival of their food. Beau looked down at his lamb, no longer feeling hungry. He usually liked meat on the bone but today it looked sad - it reminded him too much of the animal that had been slaughtered.
         "That looks so good," Aaron commented, nodding towards Beau's plate.
         They ate in silence for a while and Beau started to relax again. He reminded himself that he was on a date with Aaron King. Even if it was the worst date in the world, it was still a date with Aaron King. Then Aaron started to speak again and Beau's optimism began to wilt.
         "Beau," he said after taking another great lug of water, "are you a virgin?"
         Strangely, Aaron seemed embarrassed by his own question but his discomfort was nothing compared to the deep, tomato red of Beau's cheeks.
         Is this really all he wants to talk about? Does he just want to try it with a guy and then see if he prefers it?
         Beau didn't answer the question. Why should he? He put down his knife and fork and looked for the waitress to ask for the bill. What was left of his excitement had fizzled out. The exotic music, which had initially been soothing, seemed to be stuck on a loop, the same repetitive tune playing over and over again. The spicy aroma of the food hung thick in the air. What sounded like a group of lads laughed hysterically on the next table, hidden as they were by the draping fabrics. And both Beau's patience and his hunger had drained out.
         "Are you going to answer?" Aaron prompted.
         Beau looked at him in confusion. "No, obviously not."
         "Look," Aaron said, "I just want to know, before..."
         "Before what?"
         Aaron looked momentarily pained. He leaned back in his seat and his voice became louder, more gravelly, his eyebrows rising in what was clearly supposed to be a flirtatious expression. "Well you are going to come back to my car..." He let his voice trail off.
         A flush crept up Beau's neck. "And...?" he pressed, certain he knew where this was going but desperate to prove himself wrong.
         "And I can give you what you want." Aaron looked down at his own lap. "And you'll be giving me what I want."
         Beau just stared mutely.
         "Come on," Aaron said, "just say yes."
         The laughter from the next table suddenly became louder and even more raucous - a fitting backing track to what had become a-joke-of-a-date. Beau was just glad of the fabric screen that hid this embarrassing scene from the other tables nearby. It was as this thought went through his head that he noticed it - the crease of fabric that had been pulled aside and a face peering at them from behind it. At first he'd thought it was just one of the lads on the next table being nosey but then he realised he recognised that face staring at them through the gap in the fabric. His broken nose and bulging eyes were recognisable anywhere, even half-concealed as he was. Brian Willis. The laughter from that table was loud but it wasn't a group of men having a few beers as he'd assumed.
         Beau's face drained of colour and his heart plummeted to the floor.
         "He saw me!" Brian Willis yelled hysterically from the other side of the screen, to which frenzied laughter followed. Brian Willis - captain of the football team and Aaron King's best friend. He stumbled out of the next booth along with two other guys - Craig and Stuart (identical twins) - the three of them all holding up their phones, taking pictures or a video. Either way, Beau knew he had to get out of there. His heart was thudding erratically in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears. Time had slowed to a halt and each millisecond seemed to last forever. While he grabbed his coat, he was vaguely aware of the guys chanting lewd statements. The word 'virgin' stuck plainly in his head along with 'fag', 'queer' and 'gayboy'.
         Don't cry! he yelled to himself. Don't cry, you wimp. That is the worst thing you could do right now. Pick up your stuff. Don't look at them, just go. Get out.
         "Well done, Aaron!" Willis said. "You were about to say yes, weren't you Bo Peep!"
         Beau's vision began to blur and he felt a tear leak out of his eye. He cursed his stupid tear ducts as he stumbled out of his seat. He didn't look at them, at any of them. His eyes stayed on the bench seat, then on the floor as he quickly fled the restaurant, a painful lump in his throat and a sick feeling in his stomach.
         How much had they filmed? How much had they caught on camera?
         Had they managed to catch much of the conversation?
         He practically sprinted away from the restaurant to the nearby shopping centre and phoned his mum to come pick him up. She didn't answer.
         There was a moment of panic and then an overwhelming feeling of despair. Beau sank to the ground, hugging his knees, and even as he told himself to pull it together, to find a bus stop and get himself home, he found fresh tears sliding down his cheeks and waves of loneliness washing over him.
         When he finally pulled himself back to his feet and headed back towards the road, he pulled out his phone, looked up Aaron's number and quickly deleted it. Without smiling or crying, he carried on walking resolutely.