Warren smiled back at him.
And Jude held his gaze, though it was brief, him being accosted by a parent with a late consent form.
“Sir?” Amelia dragged her sparkly case behind her. “Can I sit with Lily?”
“Fine by me. But if I hearoneTikTok noise…”
Lily grinned. “We’ll get you in the dance crew, sir.”
“Not a chance.”
Once they were all on the coach and the luggage loaded, Jude stepped forward into the aisle, clearing his throat.
“Year Ten!” He called above the chatter. “Phones away for two minutes.”
Groans.
So Warren stood behind Jude, folded his arms and glared at the culprits.
“We’re guests this weekend,” Jude said. “Portchester Castle is a historical site, and the hotel is a shared space. You represent Worthbridge Academy. That means being respectful to the staff, each other, and yourselves. If I hear about anyone breaking rules, causing trouble, or acting like a prat, you’ll be on the first train back with your parents on speed dial. Got it?”
There were nods. Mumbled agreements. One fake salute.
Jude held up a bunch of papers. “Also, I’ve brought extra worksheets in case anyone finds they have nothing to do on the journey to keep them occupied and quiet.”
Suddenly thirty students hid their heads.
“Thought not.” Jude gave a satisfied nod, then tapped something off on his tablet.
Warren had already taken the front window seat and as Jude turned off the tablet, hugging it to his chest, Warren patted the one beside him.
“You’re not sitting next to Reuben, are you?” Warren lowered his voice so not to travel over the headphones. “Kid radiates enough energy to power the National Grid.”
Jude hesitated. Long enough for Warren to think he might bolt.
Then he sat down.
The silence stretched as the coach pulled out of the car park, humming low along the bypass. Rain dotted the windows in rhythmic taps. Jude stared out at it as if it was easier than looking at Warren.
Warren stared at him.
Watched him.
He could’ve passed it off as assessment. Checking for cracks. Noting behaviour. Cataloguing expressions. Standard observation. But that wasn’t what he was doing. He knew it. He wasadmiring. Appreciating the pale, unblemished, freshly shaven skin and the sharp curve of Jude’s jaw. And how his Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed, each breath a little too controlled. And the way his glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and he’d clutch the entire outside rim to adjust them. And his hair…a mess, but deliberately so. Dark curls, a little windswept, too perfect to be accidental. He was dressed down for the trip, too. No suit and tie. Instead, chinos, a T-shirt layered under a fitted jumper, and trainers that were definitely morefashionthan function. He was casual but curated. Every inch of him quietly put-together. Trim, too. Not gym-honed but cared for. Like someone who’d rebuilt their body once and learned to respect it after.
Yeah… Jude was handsome.
Objectively.
Subjectively.
Distractingly.
Warren blinked, tore his eyes away.
He wasn’t going to bring up Friday.
He was going to give Jude space. Respect. Professional distance. But the truth was, he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be the wrong thing.
