Chapter 32

“Did you swear at him again?” Luke asked on their way to the dance studio, and Shane cracked a tired smile. It pulled a little too hard at the edges, like he hadn’t smiled properly in a while, and when they turned into the empty corridor that ran from the west wing of the school into the studio, Luke’s fingers slid between his and squeezed.

“No,” Shane said, squeezing back. “He probably wants to talk about plans again. He offered to let me paint my new room the other day.”

“…I guess he’s trying?” Luke attempted, then made a frustrated sound. “I hate this. I hate thinking you might be going.”

Shane’s stomach rolled and he stopped to bite down on his lip. His gut felt unnaturally tight. “We’d be okay, though,” he whispered, and it was a question.

“Please,” Luke said scornfully. “Like I’m letting some weird queer Cornish kid get his hands on you. Not a chance. Anyway, you might get funny ideas in Cornwall. Like going straight.”

Shane felt his answering smile shiver.