“Eh? It was his memory.”
“Yeah, but you remember, too.”
“A kid laughed, and he punched him. It was the first time I saw someone get hit at school.”
Seb shifts uneasily on the seat. “Punched is a strong word.”
“Then three days later you tackled me to the ground,” I add, smiling at the memory. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel his weight.
“To be fair, you were running right for me.”
“It was bullrush.” I cross my eyes. “That’s the whole game.”
“You played that with girls?” Antoine whistles, shifting on the bench. “Your primary school sounds a lot rougher than mine.”
“Where’d you go?” Seb flicks a towel at him. “Eton?”
“Please. I went to Grayville Primary School where my parents paid ten thousand a year for the staff to teach me finger painting and free expression.”
My friend chortles. “Sounds more like a kindergarten.”
“Dear Rowena, you couldn’t be further from the truth. It was a Montessori school where children were encouraged to follow their interests rather than be bound to a regimented curriculum.”
“And your interest was finger painting?”
He rolls his eyes at her. “Everyone’s an art critic.”
As we leave the gym, we pair off, Seb with his arm around my shoulder, hugging me tight, Rowena dancing out of Antoine’s reach, while he seems happy enough to chase.
“You seem quiet. Is there something wrong?”
“Can we spend the night at your place? I believe my other neighbour might have a complaint about the noise.”
“Jealousy is such a crude emotion.” Seb turns to look back at her and I dig a forefinger into his rib. “Ow.” He catches my finger and plants a row of kisses along the side. “Fine. I have to warn you that my room is tiny.”
“The same size.”
“Yes, tiny. But you’re welcome to visit any time. I’ll even let you have my spare key.”
“Cohabitation is against school policy,” Antoine interjects. Then turns to Rowena. “Though I’d be happy to make an exception for you, my love.”
When we walk into the common room, I have a flush of self-consciousness as the other pupils turn to stare. I know it’s not me, it’s my companion. Antoine and Seb would command even more attention if they walked in alone.
And I’m not at all sure about the hand slipping down to my arse while everyone’s watching.
“Are you staking a claim or something?” I tease.
“Definitely,” he answers with ease. “If I don’t show everyone who you belong to, how will they know you’re mine?”
I would rebut his line, but he whirls me around, claiming my lips until I can’t remember what protestation I wanted to make.
After coming up for air, we sit in companionable silence in front of the wide-screen TV, me making notes for class tomorrow, Seb splitting time between watching me and watching his phone.
When I leave to go to the bathroom, Rowena trails behind me. “I just want to know you’re safe.”
“I promise you, I am.”
“And would you tell me if you weren’t? Would you tell me the truth if you were in trouble?”
