Private

Chapter 1-2

Shane’s phone buzzed at quarter to six.

They were curled together under Luke’s rumpled sheets. Luke was watching a film and carding his fingers through Shane’s hair; Shane had been dozing on one of those inhumanly warm shoulders, soaking up the contact before he had to step back and the distance had to return, and stirred at the low vibration.

“It’ll be Dad,” he mumbled.

“Mm.”

“I have to go,” he yawned, and sat up. Luke’s fingers trailed down his bare spine. When Shane glanced over his shoulder, those blue eyes were soft—softer than usual, that was for sure—and he twisted back to curl his fingers into Luke’s hair and kiss his bottom lip. Luke cupped his neck and deepened it briefly, then let go and pushed.

“Get dressed, then,” he murmured. “Even your dad isn’t that thick.”

Shane rolled his eyes, but slid out of bed and reached for his abandoned uniform. He heard Luke shift, and then he was sitting up on the mattress, arms around his own knees and watching as Shane dressed.

“It’s weird,” Luke said.

“What is?”

“Not being able to tell anyone.”

Shane felt his face twist, and Luke sighed.

“I don’t mean…” he said, then reached out and caught Shane’s fingers, swinging their hands lightly between them. “I’d only just got up the guts to tell everyone, and then you showed up. I just…I never thought I’d actually be okay with hiding a relationship for this long.”

Shane swallowed. He hated this topic. He envied Luke, he really did, because Luke just didn’t care. He didn’t give a f**k what people thought, and Shane was jealous of that ability.

“Hey,” Luke squeezed his fingers. “I don’t mind. For you.”

“It’ll be different,” Shane said. “At university. I won’t…I’ll be out at university. It’s just…it’s just Dad, Dad and Jase. I can’t…they’d…”

“Hey,” Luke repeated, and clambered out of bed to slide both arms around Shane’s shoulders and hug him tightly. He was ferociously warm, and Shane clung back, soaking it up. He always felt sick when Luke brought this up, because it was so unfair on him, and yet…“I don’t mind, not for you,” Luke whispered, and kissed the top of his ear. Shane dropped his lips to Luke’s bare shoulder. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready, and that’s fine, Shane, I promise it’s fine.”

Shane squeezed tightly, and exhaled shakily. He steadied himself in Luke’s grip, like he’d been doing for two years now, then slowly let go. Luke kissed Shane’s jaw, fleeting and quick, and turned away to find some clothes of his own.

“Thanks,” Shane said.

Luke snorted, switching off the TV on top of his chest-of-drawers and wriggling into a pair of jogging bottoms. He ignored underwear, because Luke was the kind of guy to lounge around naked if he could, and Shane scowled at the provocation.

“You’re a d**k,” he said, the moment gone, and Luke laughed.

“That would be your job,” he said, kissing Shane quickly again before pulling a t-shirt over his head and hauling the bedside table away from the door. He had no lock on it, and a younger sister made for leaving it only closed a bad idea.

“Shane!”

“Right on time,” Luke said, and caught Shane by the shoulder for their traditional one last kiss—a deep and plundering thing, but short, cut off with haste and promise, and leaving always room for a little more. Luke had once called it his way of keeping Shane coming back. Shane called it sadism. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

“Shane! Your father’s here!”

“We’re coming, Anna, God!” Luke yelled back, and Shane winced.

“Don’t take that tone with me!”

Luke inhaled, probably ready to shout something like ‘you’re not my mother’ but Shane defeated the attempt by yelling, “Coming!” and hefting his abandoned bag off the floor.

“See you tomorrow,” Luke said, squeezing his wrist at the doorway. “Love you,” he added in a very low whisper, like a secret between them. One of the few secrets about the whole thing that Shane liked.

His father’s deep voice rumbled in the kitchen—small talk with Mrs. Devereux, no doubt—and the hot sense of caution flooded Shane’s veins.

“See you,” he said, a little hoarsely, and Luke’s smile was tempered with sympathy.

“Shane! Get a move on!” Dad shouted.

Shane got a move on, and it was like walking through treacle.