Eight Inches to make Johnny Smile (3 page)

“I know what you mean, Mat. Are you a sweet or a savoury person?” Johnny enquired. Mat was both.

“Oh, more savoury I think. But you don’t still have to diet, do you? You’re perfect.”
Oh, God.
He hadn’t meant to say that. Johnny blushed, and Mat tried not to picture him flushed and naked.
Oh, God.

Johnny turned away to the shelves, probably to hide his embarrassment at Mat’s clumsiness. “Did you get the stuff I sent you?” he asked, absently checking his list.

“No, not yet. Right, I’m through. See you Wednesday.” Mat tried to turn his trolley without knocking anything off or anyone over. He needed to get out of there before he made a total idiot of himself.

“Oh, I was going to ask you for a coffee after. They do a nice skinny latte here.” Johnny’s hopeful face was impossible to resist. He was only being nice to Mat, probably felt sorry for him, but still. Mat could at least buy the coffee.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” he said, earnestly.

****

Johnny was so easy to talk to, and seemed so interested in everything Mat told him. He was especially keen on the computers: “No way. Are you really? You wouldn’t help me out with the group website, would you? I’m shit at anything like that.”

“Of course I will. I’d like to help. I could do it now, if you like?”
And spend more time with you.

“That is so brilliant, Mat. You’re a really kind person – all the groupies are mad about you. I’m so glad you joined.” There was something in his voice that Mat couldn’t identify, and a hint of uncertainty in those brown eyes. But Johnny looked down quickly at his skinny latte and banana, and the moment was gone.

On the way out, Mat didn’t want to let him go. It had only been coffee, but that skinny latte was the best date ever. “You want me to come now and look at your website? I have a few spare hours,” Only his whole life.

“Really? Could you? I only live up the road, I was going to get a taxi back.”

“No need. I’ll drive us both.” Where this sudden confidence had come from, Mat didn’t know, but Johnny was only the second person to ever have sat in his car. The other was Mum, when he took her to the doctor’s.

“You live alone?”
Oh, God.
What sort of a question was that? Now Johnny would think him a predator, stalking him at night and trying to watch him undress through curtains.

“No, Mat, I share a house with three other people, but I’m the only guy. Are you single, Mat?” Johnny asked, looking right at him.

They were both flung about as the car went up the kerb and down again, and Mat momentarily lost all control of his senses, perspective on reality, and ability to drive. He managed to get the car righted again by spinning the wheel manically and trying to regain his composure by blowing a lot. “Yeah, I’m single,” he wheezed, hoping to God he didn’t have an asthma attack now.

“Next left, Mat. That house with blue door,” Johnny said, fanning his face in alarm.

It was an old Victorian property, split into bedsits and rooms. “I’ll just drop off my shopping, then show you the computer, shall I?” Johnny smiled, leading them through to the kitchen.

“Yeah, great. It shouldn’t take me too long to have a look at what you’ve already got.”

“Mmm. Come on then, let’s get to it.” Johnny led him through the hallway, presumably to his room.

As Mat sat on the swivel chair, he hoped fervently that his arse wasn’t hanging over the edge, but if it was, Johnny didn’t seem to notice. He pulled a chair so close that Mat could have put his arm around him easily.

“I’m rubbish at this, Mat. Go on, show me how.” Johnny leaned right over so they were touching. Mat could smell his hair and his warmth. He gulped, and concentrated on the computer. After all, that was all Johnny wanted from him.

They sorted out the website in half an hour. Mat talked Johnny through how to maintain it, giving him little exercises to check he had understood.

Mat hated being too close to people because he knew he was disgusting. He was always aware of stepping carefully in shops in case anyone was behind, and keeping his distance in queues. Johnny was oblivious to Mat’s two-metre rule. He leaned in, nudging Mat with his shoulder and even putting his curly head on Mat’s shoulder a couple of times, grinning back at Mat like he was a regular person, not a lump of lard.

Mat could get used to it so easily. That hair and how it might feel in his hands. That smile, every time he praised Johnny. Mat wanted, but it was futile and he had to stop. For such a long time now, he had wanted so hard that the numbness spread right from his heart outwards, making his face so stony that the only time he smiled was when he unwrapped another packet.

“You want a coffee, Mat? We can look at your targets if you like, while you’re here?” Johnny broke his thoughts, peering around the door and standing on one leg, and Mat should really say no and put a stop to this now. Why prolong the agony?

“I’d love to, thanks. Black please, no sugar.”

****

Johnny chewed his pen. Just little nibbles…
those lips
…
his tongue
, poking out of the corner of his mouth as he frowned. The tiny kitchen was quiet, and soon Mat would have to leave this lovely man and go home, alone.

“Is that your parents?” he asked, nodding at the picture on the wall. Johnny nodded, and all that hair fell onto his forehead. If Mat had one wish right at that moment, all the world’s millions would go untouched, just to feel those locks.

“Yes. No-one ever asks about them in case they upset me, but I like to talk about them, keep their memory alive. My boyfriend dumped me because he couldn’t handle it.”

“What an asshole. Your dad looks like you.” It was true. Johnny was in the picture, much bigger than now but just as gorgeous. “Do you think so?” Johnny asked, his face lighting up.
Who could ever dump him?

“Yeah, definitely, he’s got the same smile, but you got the freckles,” Mat said, and found his hand stretching out to Johnny’s face, to touch his nose lightly. Colour hit Johnny’s cheeks as he rubbed his nose against Mat’s hand, and all Mat’s insides went to washing machine full spin.

“Yeah, he was an ass, and then I hit the fridge big time, Mat. I just got bigger and bigger, lost most of my friends and at my worst I couldn’t leave the house. I’m better now, but it’s still hard to trust,” Johnny finished weakly, his face falling and silence hanging like bad news.

Mat held the hand that somehow found his, took a deep breath, and squeezed. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he whispered.

The flat was now perfect. It had taken Mat months to paint and decorate, watching vids off YouTube for instructions. He eventually invited Mum and Dad for dinner, and showed them around each room, waiting for the inevitable criticism. He didn’t think they even knew they were doing it half the time, but nevertheless the insults hurt.

“It’s nice, love,” Mum began, “but it’s not home. I don’t know why you had to move out in the first place. You had a perfectly nice room before with us. Why couldn’t you just stay there until you meet a young lady?” Dad shuffled his feet awkwardly; Mat had come out years ago, but Mum just didn’t get it, and now he’d stopped bothering to explain.

“I’d rather meet a nasty young man,” Mat said, under his breath, sitting them down and escaping to the kitchen to make tea.

He checked his phone and sure enough, there were three messages of good luck – Shelly’s, Mary’s and Johnny’s, which said:

Be amazing. When are you coming out with me for coffee again? Did you get those recipes? J

It made him hot and cold, with rushy tingles all up and down his neck, even though he knew Johnny was just being nice.

He had to sit and smile for a good five minutes before he could face taking the tray out to his parents. As he nudged open the door, Mum looked pointedly at his stomach and snarked, “Still got a way to go then?” What was he supposed to say to that?

After they left, he felt sad that they couldn’t share in his newly found life, but cheered up again at the ease with which he buttoned up his shirt. From the side, he was definitely looking more normal, especially if he held his stomach in and wore black.

****

It was group night, and he would see Johnny. Mat got there early as usual and waited outside his car. He tried to peer at his reflection in the glass to see if his dimples were becoming more noticeable, sucking in his cheeks and turning his lips into a beak. He did this for a couple of minutes, before he realised that someone was standing behind him, watching.

He spun to face Johnny, who was also doing the beak lips and trying not to laugh. “Good evening, Mat,” he laughed, then lunged.

Everything went a little crazy. Mat saw lights, heard music and hugged back, very conscious of how huge his arms must feel to Johnny. Just a couple of months ago, even speaking to a guy was up there with his ambition to climb Mount Everest, yet here he was. Hugging. His head tingled as Johnny’s hands stroked up his neck, making tiny yet devastating circles.

“Look at those two lovebirds,” Shelley shrieked, as Johnny’s thigh began rubbing slightly, creating biological niceness all over Mat’s body, and pooling at his cock.

“Better get going,” Johnny breathed, brushing Mat’s neck with his lips. Mat reluctantly let Johnny go.

He knew he was red, and enormous, but he still felt ridiculously happy as they went to meet the others for the weigh-in. He no longer worried about getting on the scales, or how much weight he might or might not have lost. He still had bad days, when the arses at work got to him, and he still occasionally slipped back into the old routines of stuffing his face blankly, followed by dark self-hating thoughts.

But these days, sometimes he called Shelly instead, and told her. When he was at his lowest, he really wanted to phone Johnny and hear that friendly voice, but he didn’t.

It was always warm in the community centre, and tonight it seemed hotter than ever. People stripped off, revealing stomachs and butts. Mat had planned for that like he had planned for every eventuality since he was thirteen. His massive shirt revealed nothing except his dynamic taste in green squares and sensible lined patterns. For someone so large, Mat knew how to be invisible.

“I was terrible this week,” Shelly confessed to him in the queue. “I had three days when I just pigged and I didn’t even care. How about you?”

“Good this week. Only that one time I told you about with the peanut butter. I’m not buying any more, it’s too tempting,” Mat whispered, trying desperately to keep his voice low enough so that Johnny wouldn’t hear him. He didn’t want Johnny knowing he was still a greedy fat bastard.

“And don’t forget the Mars bar liaison you had, Mat. Have you had any more trouble from the fuckwits at work?” Shelly hollered, making him cringe and blush. He could see that Johnny was definitely listening. He mouthed ‘Shh’ desperately at Shelly. “Why?” she demanded, “You can say what you like here.” It probably wasn’t possible to actually go any redder or for his stupid hands to get any sweatier as he shuffled his weight diary and fought off the vision of throttling Shelly, who was looking at him shrewdly.

“Put that man down, Shelly. It’s your turn on the joystick. Hop on.” Johnny smiled at him so sweetly that Mat wanted to just gracefully turn into a grateful, gooey mess on the floor. Watching Johnny made him ache. It was lucky he had years of practising the art of face marble, or no doubt he would be beaming away with his tongue out, lust and wanting all his moon face.

Shelly frowned at the figure Johnny scribbled in her diary. “Oh, fuck, worse than I thought,” she said mournfully. Johnny patted her arm.

“We’ll have a chat, look at your diary this week. Maybe I can get you started again?”

“Thanks, Johnny. Your turn on the joystick, Mat. Lady Luck wasn’t good to me tonight, hope you do better, love.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mat mumbled, taking a breath, which he hoped was weight free, then stepping on. Even though he knew he’d mostly followed the plan, and had walked miles to work and back every day, he was still terrified. For so long he had thought he had no control over those rising figures on his parents’ scales that even now, thirty pounds lighter, he still expected weight gain.

“Did the leaflets come? No? Oh. Well done, Mat. Four pounds,” Johnny whispered, slipping him his weight diary and squeezing his hand. If the world stayed still like that forever, Mat knew he would be happy.

“Thanks,” he muttered, awkwardly, trying to hold on to that hand a little longer, “Aren’t you hot?” he asked Johnny, nodding at his long, baggy jumper. Johnny always wore very over-sized jumpers, even when it was boiling hot in here, or when they were stomping around the park on a night walk.

“Some have said so. What do you think?” Johnny laughed back at him, brown eyes crinkling at the corners, all cheeky and kissable.

They stared at each other, and everything went quiet. All Mat could hear was his heart, and that voice telling him to please not fuck this up, and just let the hand go because no way would Johnny ever be interested in a big fat bastard like him. But still he held on, his thumb taking charge and stroking Johnny’s hand gently.

Those eyes just kept looking, serious now, and again, that hint of uncertainty Mat had seen at the café. Johnny looked past Mat, behind him, at the room, and soft laughter broke from him. He let go of the hand, took Mat’s shoulders and leaned close to whisper, “They’re all looking at us.”

And they were. Mat turned, as the room exploded in, “Awww,” and Johnny held a hand over his mouth, giggling. They exchanged a look before Mat slid to his seat, feeling that something had happened. He steadfastly ignored Shelly, who nudged him and winked, whispering, “You two would be so perfect together. He likes you, ask him out.”

“No way,” he whispered back, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“I’m too fat,” he shrugged, as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Like he’d care about that. Durr. Don’t be such a moron, ask him out. He’s shy.”

This was news to Mat. Johnny, shy? What did he have to be shy about? The ‘Fess Up’ started, and he clapped and smiled with everyone else, but didn’t really hear a word they said.