‘Good morning, mates,’ said Vivian.

‘Good morning, Vivian,’ we all said as one. I nodded at Vivian. He nodded at me. He looked either fresh from a shower or healthily sweaty. All of us were strenuously not looking at his underwear. Chris L poured his juice into a glass and held it to his lips and allowed his sunglasses to reflect the room’s occupants back to themselves. They watched him drink the pulpy orange juice.

‘What are you boys doing today?’ said Vivian.

‘Going back to bed,’ I said.

Chris L snorted mid-drink, which made me grin at him. It was the kind of snort that said ‘That’s so you,’ and to the room, ‘That’s so him,’ an arena of judgement that was usually Dan’s only.

‘Don’t go back to bed,’ said Chris L. ‘Come to the pool.’

I scrunched my little nose and balled my little fists. There was no way I was going to spend another day lying on those bleachers, talking shit and deepening my complicity in the burgeoning relationships of anybody. Besides, I knew just how mornings like this went – vague plans, they might end up back at someone’s apartment, where the stated goal would be to play a game or see what was on Stan but they’d circle back, and circle back, and someone else was coming, then someone else was hungry, then someone had to go . . .

I wondered if I could still be a part of this circle of friends if I did not actually like spending any time with them, and also if I did not like the things they liked to do, which were somehow different from the things I liked to do, even though they weren’t that different in the scheme of doings.

There are fun ways to be a bad sport, which I quickly catalogued, but I was saved by Vivian from saying any of them. ‘Aussies and their pools,’ he said.

This was the beginning of any number of plausible sentences, but a natural conclusion seemed not to be in store; Vivian chose to leave the statement hanging. Chris L watched him impassively. Dan and Lachlan were bored. I was just trying to keep my eyes above the neckline, which is the expected focus of all conversation partners – it was another moment where I might have slipped the bonds of fate, if I had recognised the kitchen as a deadly situation, a location where my attention could have been wisely paid.

Maybe the first relationship was with horniness itself, which was always there inside you, waiting for the moment it could fuck you up the most.

‘I might come to the pool,’ I said.

‘Really?’ said Dan.

‘Yes,’ I said. I winked at Dan. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

‘Great,’ said Dan. ‘Really good that you’ll keep us informed.’

‘Are you going home first?’ said Lachlan. Lachlan! I smiled at Lachlan. He smiled back, perhaps a bit uncertainly.

‘I think so,’ I said.