It really shouldn't matter this much.

Nick shouldn't have felt compelled to take a shower and brush his teeth an extra time just to have dinner with Blake. And he didn't, really. If anything, Nick utterly dreaded being in one room alone with him for over an hour. Why the hell had he agreed? Alex was so full of shit. He knew nothing about them.

Yeah, and whose fault is that again? Nick sighed. He didn't explain it to Alex because he had nothing to say that wouldn't make him look bad. Because technically speaking, when stripping all the facts to the bare-bones, Nick knew Blake had more reason to dislike him than the other way around. It wasn't like Nick had been the one to personally throw garbage at Blake in high school or call him a fag or a girl. But he'd been there. Even when things his friends did didn't sit well with him, he shut his mouth and chose football. And for what?

It was all hindsight talk of course, but Nick wished he had said something and stood up to his friends when he didn't agree with what they did. Not necessarily for Blake's sake, but for his own, so he wouldn't have to feel like shit now.

Exhibit A of a guilty conscience: Nick nearly jumped out of his seat when his phone suddenly started buzzing loudly. With a frown, Nick snatched it off the kitchen table.

hi! cooking or ordering?

Nick's guts already protested at the thought of greasy pizza. Drinking beer was his only vice. Otherwise, he'd still at least try to respect his body and cook something healthy.

Cooking. I'll do it.

awesome, need anything from the store? I'm on my way.

Nick checked the cupboards. He'd bought most stuff for a cacciatore already, but was missing a few fresh ingredients.

Get 4 chicken thigh cutlets, small bottle of red wine, and 200 grams tomatoes.

Blake responded with a thumbs up, and Nick, once again, wondered what the hell he was doing.

He could at least shorten their time together if he already cut the bell peppers, garlic, and onions before Blake arrived. Since Blake said he was already on his way, Nick got started immediately and chopped up the vegetables. He was done after five minutes, and then there was nothing left to do but sit and stew in his own juice.

Nick waited. And waited. Almost an hour passed, and Nick was ready to decide he'd waited long enough and was allowed to weasel out of this dinner. But then he heard noise in the hall. An uncharacteristically disheveled-looking Blake entered the living room. His sunglasses had shifted to the side a little, his hair was tousled, and a plastic grocery bag dangled from one arm. Despite the disheveled whirlwind appearance, Blake didn't rush as he walked past Nick to the kitchen to drop the groceries there.

"I know, I know. I'm late," he said from the kitchen. "But look what Grindr weirdo I had to dodge at the supermarket, okay?" Blake marched into the living room and jutted his phone in Nick's face.

The photo showed a full-on frontal view of an older man with a wrinkly dick. Nick scowled and leaned away from the phone. "What the fuck? I did not need to see that."

"I know, right?" Blake puckered his lips and mimicked an old geezer voice trying to sound sultry. "Hey baby, do you like older men?"

"That's disturbing." Nick wrinkled his nose, and took in Blake's dishevelled appearance again. Should he ask if Blake was okay? It wasn't weird to ask someone if they were okay after being chased by a creep, was it? Then again, it was weird to start now. He'd never asked Blake if he was okay in school after getting bullied.

Slowly, Blake took off his sunglasses and grinned at Nick. "Oh, don't look so worried. I'm fine. This wasn't first and won't be the last weirdo."

Nick felt himself blush and he turned away, frowning. "I'm only worried about the wrinkly balls burned on my retinas while I cook," he curtly retorted. "Thanks for that."

While Blake chuckled, Nick marched into the kitchen to cut the rest of the ingredients and start cooking. When he took the groceries out of the plastic back, he realised Blake had brought the already cut variant. Nick would give Blake a bit credit for being considerate and saving him work.

Blake walked into the kitchen a few moments later. He'd taken off his vest and only wore a tank top now, his slender arms visible. He was already getting a bit of a tan. Nick would only get lobster red if he went into the sun like that.

"Okay, but before I scare a baby-bi off forever, I just wanted to make sure you knew it's not just wrinkly balls I run into," Blake said, leaning against the counter. "You can get dates with other men online too."

Nick cut open the package containing the chicken. "I don't want to get dates."

"Or just look around...."

"No."

"So, just Alex then?"

Nick glanced at Blake. "I already told you I don't want to talk. Stop mentioning Alex, and we'll just go on as we did before."

Nick didn't look at Blake, instead busying himself with seasoning the chicken, but he could imagine Blake's expression with the single raised brow. "Exactly the way it was before?" Blake asked. "No, I don't think I want to go on the same way. That's why I asked you to have dinner with me, silly. Trust me: I'm lovely once you get to know me. Ask all the women at college."

Nick turned to stare at Blake. He was at a loss for words. Did that mean Blake wanted to try and be friends or something? All because Nick accidentally found out he was bi? That was the only thing that had changed.

Blake didn't give him much time to think about it; he hopped onto the counter next to Nick, tapped the cupboard with his heels, and changed the subject. "You know what? I always thought if anyone else from the football crew from high school ended up coming out, it would've been Matthew."

"Matthew?" Nick repeated incredulously. That was never going to happen. Matthew had parents who were exactly the same as him, and he believed everything he was being spoon-fed at home. It was tragic, in a way. Nick had visited Matthew's home once. It was pretty clear Matthew desperately wanted his father's approval and did anything to get it. That meant being hyper masculine and spitting on any more feminine man like Blake.

"Seriously, what makes you think the biggest homophobe of them all would be gay?" Nick shook his head. "Even if Matthew was in any sort of way not straight, he's more likely to suppress it forever than come out."

"Pity." Blake hummed. "That means I lost that bet forever."

Nick side eyed Blake. "You bet on Matthew coming out?"

"Sure. We had bets on who of the biggest bullies were actually gay themselves. I won a couple of free drinks from the Sem incident." Blake shrugged and smiled.

Nick gave Blake a hard stare, then focused on the chicken he'd yet to put into the pan and was only half-seasoned because he kept getting distracted. "Right."

"You were pretty low on the ranking list," Blake went on, "Because you obviously were totally head over heels with Emma with no time or eye for anyone else."

"Yeah, Emma and football," Nick muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"...Nothing."

A silence fell, and Blake hopped down from the counter."Anyway, I'll like, stop only sitting here looking pretty and make myself useful. I'll set up the table."

Nick only grumbled something under his breath in response. He was lost in thought as he placed the chicken filet in the pan. Football and Emma. Emma and football. There had gone eight years of his life chasing things and people that didn't want him. He'd wasted all this time running after the wrong things. But now that he didn't have anything to chase, not even the wrong thing, somehow it felt like he was wasting his time even more.