Jason was too embarrassed to meet the other man's eyes. He stared resolutely at the ground. But that didn't deter his pick-up.
“Hello,” mumbled Jason, feeling himself colour, furious at the tell-tale blush already creeping up his neck and cheeks.
“Can I sit there?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Jason shifted over as far to the left as he could, still looking anywhere but at the other.
“Want a ciggie?” Ciggie? Jason felt his lip curl in disdain, then stamped down hard, very hard, on his homophobic snobbishness. Chris, one of his friends, not his best friend, but someone he really liked and respected, was a bit effeminate. And one day, they'd had a terrible row because Jason, repelled by some queeny intonation in his friend's chatter, had said “Don't be so gay!” White with rage, Chris had said, “You take it up the bum just like me, Jace. You give head just like me. You're a fucking homo just like me, you fucking judgemental snooty cunt!” Jason had been so ashamed. Relationships between them had been permanently soured. Poor Chris, Jason thought. I treated him like shit. I screwed up with him just like I did with everyone else.