It was a smoking hot summer’s day. On a camping trip with the lads down the country. We’d pitched our tents in a field beside a forest about a 15 minute drive from the local town. This evening was humid, hot. Our clothes stuck to our chests, and sweat dripped from each and every brow. Some of us were topless in the heat. The lads were passing round a ball and soon began to talk about getting supplies. I saw Neil say something and then walk towards the tents, as I lay in the shade under the trees. He caught my gaze for a split second and I looked away. I never could hold eye contact with him. Something in the softness of his face embarassed me as if he was a girl. He came over to the campsite and began arranging the bonfire. “The lads are gone to get beers and stuff, I thought I’d get the fire goin’ and…” he moved a big log with one hand “Start a barbeque”. “Cool”, I said. I was always a little shy around him. “But first,” he pulled out a spliff from behind his ear, “We smoke this”, he said with a grin. “Sweet”, I sat up and he sat across from me on the grass. We didnt say anything as we passed the joint back and forth; we barely looked at eachother. It wasnt until he had taken the last puff and stubbed out the roach that the silence was broken. “It’s pretty hot”, he said in a strange, quiet way.