38

Ste trailed behind Jamie and Zoe as they walked down the bustling corridor, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above. Jamie was in his element, speaking loudly enough to ensure everyone within a ten-foot radius could hear him, gesturing animatedly while Zoe giggled at his every word.

Ste wasn’t listening. He felt as if he were moving through molasses, his limbs heavy and sluggish after a night of unrelenting pain. His neck throbbed, the skin tender where purple bruises bloomed, and his mind swirled with exhaustion.

“…like, if you’re going to be that ginger and not even get highlights, you could at least do us the courtesy of not being horrifyingly obese,” Jamie declared, his words cutting and casual, eliciting a shriek of laughter from Zoe.

Zoe, ever the sycophant, flipped her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Oh my God, Jamie, you’re terrible!” she said, though her grin betrayed no real objection.

“Sounds like someone is racist against gingers,” came a voice from behind, dripping with righteous indignation.

Ste didn’t need to turn to know it was Annie. Annie, the self-proclaimed defender of all things “just,” stood proudly with her arms crossed, her perpetual frown a hallmark of her personality. She was a permanent fixture in Zeke’s orbit, and Ste privately wondered if she ever had an opinion that wasn’t an echo of his.

Jamie’s face twisted in annoyance, but before he could respond, Ste beat him to it.

“Ginger isn’t a race, you thick bitch,” Ste said flatly, his tone laced with boredom.

The bluntness of his remark earned a ripple of laughter from their little group, and even a few passersby snickered.

Annie’s cheeks flushed red. “Scottish is a race—”

“No, it fucking isn’t,” Ste interrupted, his voice louder now. “How dumb are you? Scottish people are Caucasian.”

More laughter erupted, this time joined by Zeke, who stepped forward with a smirk. Annie looked to him for support, but he shook his head, the amusement clear on his face.

“Geez… go read a book, would you?” Zeke said to Annie, his tone so dismissive that she recoiled as if he’d slapped her. Without another word, she spun on her heels and stomped off, her combat boots thudding against the floor.

Zeke turned to Jamie, his smirk softening into something more appreciative as he let his eyes sweep over him. “I’m sorry about her,” he said, his voice smoother now, almost flirty. “She’s a sweet girl but… not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

Jamie shrugged, as if used to such drama. “You don’t need to apologize. I was being cruel.”

Zeke’s eyes flicked to Ste, his gaze lingering. “What happened to you?” he asked, his expression shifting to mock concern as he took in Ste’s bruised neck.

Instinctively, Ste pulled his collar higher, trying to shield the evidence of last night’s events.

‘It looks stupid,’ Ste thought bitterly. ‘But who gives a crap?’

“You should tell your partner that the idea is to gently suck the skin between your teeth,” Zeke advised, his tone maddeningly neutral, as if he were genuinely trying to help.

Ste met his gaze with a calmness that belied the annoyance boiling under his skin. “My partner would gently suck the soul right out of your body,” he said evenly.

Zeke raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling as he backed away. “Fair enough. Message received.”

As Zeke moved off, Jamie turned to Ste, a rare smile gracing his lips. “That was funny,” he said, his tone almost approving.

Ste’s chest warmed at the praise, though he forced himself not to show it. Compliments from Jamie were so rare that they felt almost sacred, like a fleeting moment of sunlight on an otherwise gray day. Yet, even as he basked in it, he couldn’t ignore the dull ache creeping into his thoughts. Lately, the only time he felt alive was in these moments—when Jamie threw him a scrap of kindness.

“I’m so tired,” Jamie groaned suddenly, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. He pretended to stagger, leaning heavily against the lockers.

‘Strange,’ Ste thought. ‘You seemed to be sleeping like a baby last night.’

“Crazy night of rampant shagging?” Zoe teased, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I wish,” Jamie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, it was my sister’s crying that kept me awake. Anyone would think the world was ending the way she was going on.”

“Why?” Adam’s voice cut in, his expression unreadable as he joined the group.

Ste’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t miss the way Adam’s tone shifted, nor the faint flicker of something—concern? Suspicion?—that crossed his face.

Jamie shrugged. “She wants to get back with her ex, but some other guy is hassling her. I don’t really get it. She just kept blabbing about how much she loves Dave. Poor thing. It’s sad, really.”

Adam’s expression changed ever so slightly—a tightening of the jaw, a flicker of something sharp in his eyes. If you didn’t know him well, you might not have noticed it at all.

Ste noticed. He also noticed the tension that now hung between Adam and Jamie like an invisible thread, taut and unspoken.

‘What’s going on here?’ Ste wondered.

But he wasn’t in a position to ask, and neither Jamie nor Adam seemed inclined to explain. So, he did what he always did: he kept his mouth shut and filed it away, tucking the curiosity into the back of his mind.

As the conversation moved on, Ste lagged behind the group, his thoughts swirling. Whatever had just passed between Jamie and Adam, it wasn’t nothing. But whether it was worth digging into—or if he even had the right to—was another question entirely.

For now, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, pretending not to notice the weight that hung over him like a shadow.