Nick was going to be sick. That was the only possible outcome. Jordan would open the door, and he'd – inevitably – puke in a spectacular fashion all over her Doc Martens. He kind of hoped that would happen. Then he wouldn't have to tell her what had been bugging him for the past four years.

His stomach was on a rollercoaster. If flipped up and down, flitting between something that felt like excitement and agony. He felt like he'd drank six cups of coffee and was feeling the consequences.

The door opened. Jordan stood, looking unimpressed. Nick didn't make any attempt to move inside.

"Are you coming in, or what? It's freezing."

Nick's mouth opened. No words came out - or vomit, for that matter. Jordan was growing impatient, tapping her foot irritably.

"If you don't come in in the next five seconds, I'm closing the door."

He knew her well enough to believe her. Sighing, he stepped inside the house, wiping his shoes on the doormat. Jordan shut the door behind her. No going back now. Nick didn't want to think about that.

Jordan's house didn't help his nerves at all. It was neat. Far too neat. And everything was white. Cream carpets and white leather sofas and clean kitchen surfaces. It hurt Nick's eyes, and he was scared he'd muddy the carpet.

At least Jordan was a relief from the white in her black poncho and leather pants. She was a modern Morticia Addams. A short-haired, more terrifying version. Jordan swept past Nick, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. Her muddy boots left a trail of dirt in the corridor, but she didn't look back.

"I hope this is important. You know I sleep in on Sundays," she said, heading into the kitchen. Nick shuffled after her.

"It is."

"Well then?" Jordan said, sitting at the kitchen table and putting her feet up. Nick perched on the edge of a seat, swallowing. OK. Right. I can do this. It'll fine, just say it.

Jordan made a circling motion with her hand. "Speed it up. Time is precious, darling, and you're wasting a lot of mine."

"Err..."

Deep breath. Get it over with.

"Jordan...I'm gay."

Jordan blinked. Her eyes always looked so huge behind her glasses that Nick couldn't tell if she looked surprised.

"And?"

Nick blinked. "Huh?"

"And? What else?"

"Well, I...that's it. What more do you want?"

"Well you could tell me something I don't know."

"Wait, you...you know?"

"Of course I know. Idiot."

"And...you didn't think to tell me?"

"Tell you that I know?"

"No! Tell me that I'm...you know."

"Well, gee. I thought you'd managed to figure it out for yourself." Jordan took a drag of her cigarette. The smoky smell calmed Nick a little, and his shoulders relaxed. Jordan sighed. "I didn't want to pressure you to tell me. I was waiting for you to come forwards yourself."

"That's...the nicest thing you've ever said."

"Don't get too used to it, pal. My heart's still made of stone."

Nick shook his head. "This wasn't how I imagined this would go."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. A fuss?"

"What, like fireworks and streamers and unicorns draped with Pride flags?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"Well...I kind of suspected you were coming out today. So I baked a rainbow cake. Is that gay enough for you?" Jordan asked, standing up and rooting through the cabinets above the cooker. She produced a tin with a rather burned, sloppily decorated cake in it. It had sunk to the bottom of the container in a gloopy mess.

"Wow. I can't believe you went to all this trouble," Nick said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey. Art's not my forte. Now cut me some cake."

"I'm very traumatised by this whole experience. Be nice."

"Boo hoo. Stuff some cake in your mouth, that'll stop your whining. Geez, it's all about you, isn't it?"

Nick found himself finally able to smile. He couldn't remember why he'd been so worried in the first place. Jordan fetched two plates and Nick cut them a generous portion each. Nick took a bite and sighed as the buttery icing slid around on his tongue. It may have looked a mess, but it tasted delicious.

"Nick, close your mouth. I know my cake's beautiful, but I don't want to see it turning gooey in your mouth. Besides. You're not out of the woods yet. I still want to talk about this."

Nick groaned. "Does it make you happy to see me suffer? Does it?"

"Don't be a drama queen. You didn't think you could just come out and just leave it at that?"

Nick shrugged, the last of his cake melting on his tongue. He stared at his plate. He didn't want to look Jordan in the eye.

"Are you going to tell your mum?"

"Hell no." His mother had always thought he'd marry Jordan. Not that she approved of her. No. Fern Murphy liked things that were soft and pretty and pink and neat. Which Jordan certainly wasn't. She was dark haired, dark eyed, dark humoured. Dark everything, head to foot. Fern never said anything, but she didn't approve of Jordan. She'd purse her lips at every rude word that came out of Jordan's mouth. Every crass joke Jordan made had Nick's father cracking up, but not Fern. It sent her lips into spasm, the corners of her mouth flickering up and down.

"How much will she cry when she finds out?"

"Buckets, I suppose. But she's not going to find out. No one else is. I only told you because you're my best friend."

"I'm honoured. But you can't hide it forever."

"Says who?"

"Well it's going to be a bit of a giveaway when a man walks down the aisle toward you and not a woman..."

"So I won't get married. I won't have a life, its fine. I'll just have no partner, no family. I'll get ten budgies and collect thimbles. But not another soul is finding out about this and I'll be perfectly happy. You hear me?"

Nick realised the childishness of it all, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Jordan just shrugged.

"Loud and clear."

Nick frowned. Jordan wasn't one for giving in. She took a nonchalant drag on her cigarette. Then she sighed, and Nick's stomach twisted.

"It's a shame everybody already knows."

"What?"

"Well, suspects, at least. People have suggested it a few times. They've said you look gay."

"How can you look gay? That's not a thing."

"They're not smart enough to figure that out. You know that."

Nick dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jordan patted his arm in an attempt to comfort him. She wasn't affectionate at the best of times.

"Don't worry. I've got a solution for you."

"I don't like the sound of that. Your plotting always lands everyone in shit."

"Hey. I don't plot. I'm trying to save your ass. So that you can hold onto that sad little thimble collecting dream. Just hear me out."

Nick uncovered his eyes, sighing. He stared at Jordan, expectant.

"Well? Go on then."

"It's simple. All we need to do is get you a date. With a girl."

"What?"

"I think it's pretty obvious. Nick plus a girl equals a straight relationship. It's that simple, darling. It's the perfect beard for you. All we have to do is find someone who is willing to put up with you."

Nick opened his mouth to protest, when he heard the front door open. Jordan sighed, rolling her eyes.

"They're not meant to be home for another hour."

They heard a gasp from in the corridor.

"Tabitha! Look what Jordan's gone and bloody done to the carpet now! Just look at it!" Jordan's father screamed.

"That's your cue to leave," Jordan said. She grabbed Nick under his arms and hoisted him to his feet, shoving him towards the back doors. Jordan's father continued to wail about the state of his expensive cream carpet.

"I'll be in touch. Allow Cupid to prepare a plan," Jordan said, winking. Then she locked Nick out in the garden. He sighed. Why are we friends?

Nick made his escape from Jordan's garden by climbing over the back gate. He sped down the driveway as fast as possible so he didn't have to listen to Jordan's parents shouting at her. Again. He stuck his earbuds in and put on his contemplation playlist. He had a playlist for every mood, but as of late, this one seemed to be on repeat.

Jordan's neighbourhood made him nervous. Not because it was a dodgy area, where gangs of young boys hung around and cat-called at girls as they walked past. More the opposite. She lived on one of the posher streets in the village, with three story houses twice the size of Nick's. The gardens were neat and colourful, trimmed and pruned to perfection. Nick always felt like he didn't belong there, with his scruffy attire and mussed up hair. He even felt like his walk was wrong. The people there walked with straight backs, chins high, trying to keep up with their keen Pomeranian dogs. Nick – to put it simply – slouched. And now that Jordan had pointed out that he 'looked gay' he felt even more like an outsider. He walked home at twice his usual pace.

His Mum was singing in the kitchen when he arrived home. Space Oddity – an even more dramatic rendition. He closed the door quietly and snuck upstairs. He wasn't in the mood for her. His meeting with Jordan had worn him out.

In the sanctuary of his room, he was able to breathe again. He felt almost winded by the events of the day. I just came out. I just came out as gay.

It was a big step. Maybe he'd only told one person, but it was more person than knew before. He closed his eyes. Maybe next time it'll be easier. But he knew that would never be the case. Jordan loved him regardless. He knew that. But his family? The people at school? They were a different story.

He knew he had to tell them one day. As much as he claimed he wanted to hide away forever, he didn't. He wanted to live a normal life, bring boys home for his parents to meet, get married to a guy and have a honeymoon somewhere hot. But for now, he was going to hide. The secret would stay between him and Jordan, and everything would be fine. Does that make me a coward?

Think about something else. Nick sat down at his desk, looking for a distraction. Sketches and notes were spread out across the surface. He wanted to stick his notes up on the wall, but his Mum wouldn't let him. She kept complaining about the Blu-tac residue it would leave behind. Besides. If Jordan ever saw his sketches, he'd be teased endlessly. Not only were they embarrassingly bad, but they were all based off people he knew. Jordan included. Plus, Jordan lacked an open mind to fantasy worlds. Nick doubted she'd be able to handle the sketches of her depicted as a mermaid. Even a badass mermaid with a very spiky trident.

His writing was an alternate reality for him. He imagined the people he knew in a world of endless water and sky. Anybody who was anybody in Nick's life ended up in his sketches and plans for his book. But despite all the planning he just couldn't seem to start off writing.

He sifted through the papers to find his notebook. The battered black sketchbook was at the very bottom of all his notes. He loved planning his story; creating character profiles, sketches, doing research. That's all he'd done so far. But right at that moment, he felt the need to get lost in the other world he'd created. Completely. The other world that felt so real to him. At some points, he even preferred it to the one he was stuck in.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up a pen and opened a new page. He pressed the nib of the pen into the paper, watching the black ink fan out like a flower blooming. He closed his eyes.

Then, he began to write.