Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
George
I took Landon’s card, but I was only being polite. Lucas told him to get stuffed. Don’t you love British insults? Lucas said he’d take Deb’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it responses over Landon’s slimy chat-up lines any day, and I agree. I’m not even sure Landon’s offer was serious. Lucas says that man will do anything to get in our heads. I’m trying not to just go along with whatever Lucas thinks, but it’s so nice to have a proper friend on the rowing team. Last night was the first time I truly appreciated it. I feel like Lucas and I have really bonded.
There were a couple of moments yesterday when it felt like more than that. All those compliments I gave Lucas .?.?. I wasn’t lying. Maybe I should be more subtle about the fact that I find him cute. But it’s important for Lucas to know that’s how people see him. He’s finally ready to seal the deal with Amir, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. Lucas is just my friend with a really cute butt.
‘It’s very impressive,’ says Professor Mishri.
I snap back to attention. ‘Sorry, what is?’
‘Your dissertation.’
She hands it back to me. We’ve spent most of the past hour discussing it, and I don’t think Eleanor can believe the praise that Professor Mishri has been lavishing.
‘Let’s end it there today,’ says Professor Mishri. ‘Actually George, could I have a word?’
Not again. Eleanor looks smug as she leaves – she knew there had to be a catch. Professor Mishri closes her door and looks at me sternly.
‘George, this dissertation is head and shoulders above anything you’ve written previously.’
I give her a modest shrug. ‘I guess all the reading I’ve been doing paid off.’
Professor Mishri glances down. ‘That’s not to say there aren’t some .?.?. interesting metaphors in there.’
‘That’s what helped me understand the concepts.’
‘Yes, it’s not a criticism. And I think it will help convince the examiners that this is your own work.’
She gives me a long look.
‘It is your own work, isn’t it, George?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Only I wouldn’t want you to have had the wrong reaction to this whole drama around the Boat Race.’
‘It kicked my ass into gear. I thought you’d be pleased.’
Professor Mishri lets out a little laugh.
‘I’m delighted. But your coursework is not the same as your exams. You’re going to be on your own there.’
She gives me another searching look.
‘Do you feel like that’s going to be an issue?’
I smile at her. ‘I don’t see why it would be.’
‘Great.’ She goes to open her door.
‘I’m dashing home to Tilly. She gets ever so grumpy when she’s hungry.’
My ears prick up. I’m this close to cracking the Tilly mystery.
‘Does she? How does she, er, communicate that?’
‘Oh, she’s very passive aggressive. She huffs off and has a nap.’
Try as I might, the only thing I can picture is a lesbian in a dog basket. It’s occurred to me that I could just ask a question that would answer the mystery once and for all. Does Tilly like dog biscuits? Who’s her favourite composer? But it’s not that I can’t picture a woman eating dog biscuits or a dog who loves Mozart. As she opens her door for me, Professor Mishri hesitates.
‘George, there’s only one thing you can do at this point, and that’s try your hardest. If you do that, you’ll get the result you deserve. You can’t just wave a magic wand.’
The following morning, Lucas and I meet up on the train to Ely. I’ve been desperate to tell him about the mark I got in my dissertation, but I wanted to wait until I could do it face to face. As soon as we’re seated, I recount my conversation with Professor Mishri.
‘We did it!’ I exclaim.
Lucas looks at me in concern. ‘You mean, we got away with it.’
‘Yeah!’
‘George, do you not understand? She was warning you.’
‘She said don’t use a magic wand. And we won’t.’
‘What do you think cheating is? We need to be really careful going forward.’
I observe Lucas as he looks out of the window and picks at his nails.
‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘You made it sound like cheating was going to be so easy.’
‘Yeah, George, I was bluffing.’
Huh. That does make more sense.
‘Look,’ I say, ‘if you’re worried, maybe I don’t have to cheat. I’ve been reading some textbooks, going to lectures. I’m starting to understand more.’
It’s not just that. Ever since I told that story to Lucas about Carly Rosen and Hercule Poy Rot, I’ve been reminded of something I’d managed not to think about for a long time.
I want to feel smart.
I try not to dwell on it, because it’s obvious no one thinks I’m smart, and why waste time worrying about the one thing I’m not good at? But like I said to Lucas, the feeling hasn’t gone away. Maybe I should explain that.
‘George, no offence, but we do have to cheat. You feel like you’re learning a lot because you’re starting from nothing.’
This hits me in the gut, but I swallow hard.
‘So what’s the plan now?’
Lucas glances behind us. Ed and Ted are only a few seats away.
‘I’ll tell you after rowing.’
‘Why so mysterious?’
‘Because the plan, George, is to not take any more risks than are necessary.’
As the train pulls into Ely, there’s only one thing anyone’s talking about. Henley Royal Regatta, the jewel in the crown of rowing regattas, is only a few weeks away and Deb still hasn’t announced the teams. Henley usually takes place in July, but it’s been moved into the middle of exam term to accommodate the World Championships. Deb has ignored the calls of various university honchos to avoid such an unfortunate clash of timetables.
For most of the squad, the main opportunity presented by Henley is a rematch with Oxford, but Jemima emailed the other day to let me know that Rick Toledo, the US Olympic coach, is flying out to watch me row. If I can win in his presence at Henley, that will give a huge boost to my Olympic hopes.
‘Two words,’ says Deb as she gathers us at the boathouse.
‘Wow, she’s really spoiling us,’ quips Lucas.
‘Seat racing,’ says Deb.
A scandalised murmur passes through the team. Seat racing is one of the most brutal and controversial training methods in rowing. It involves running repeated sprints while swapping out one rower for another to see if they make the boat go slower or faster. It’s usually done in fours, rather than eights, since that way it’s easier to measure the impact of each rower. Its effectiveness is disputed, as crews are notorious for trying to influence the results. If someone gets swapped into the boat in favour of your friend, you’re incentivised to pull slower and make it look like your friend was the difference. That’s why the first boat out is so important. Those four rowers don’t know which of them will be swapped out and for whom. Even if you think you’ve figured out the coach’s plan and want to mess with it, it’s a huge risk not to pull your hardest and see your scheming backfire.
Deb announces the first boat out – Tristan, Johannes, Ed and Ted, with Fran in the cox seat. The rest of us trade glances and gather on the bank to watch. If Tristan is right, and he’s in contention for my place, the next boat out will be the same line-up, only with me instead of him. In theory, that should show Deb which of the two of us is faster. But if Ed, Ted or Johannes would prefer me over Tristan as first team stroke, all they have to do is pull harder the second time, making it look like I’m stronger. Except it’s not that simple, because what if Deb surprises us all by swapping out Johannes for Dakani? Then Johannes would regret not having pulled his hardest when it was actually him who was being tested.
Do you see what a mind fuck it can be?
But let’s not overcomplicate things. Everyone knows it’s me vs. Tristan. And Johannes wouldn’t dream of taking sides. Ed and Ted are more of a wild card, since they’re both at Peterhouse College with Tristan. That’s a potential point of allegiance, but I’ve always got the impression they don’t like him. I cross over to them casually.
‘Hey, guys. You ready for this?’
‘I guess,’ says Ed.
‘We’re gonna row fair and square, right?’
Ted gives Ed a look, then shrugs at me.
‘Why wouldn’t we?’
If I was more calculating, I’d cut them a deal to be sure of it. But they don’t have any reason to lie to me. Plus after my conversation with Lucas, I’m not taking any more risks than are necessary. As Deb sets the first boat off, they speed away from us and out of sight. When they row back a few minutes later, no one apart from Deb knows what time is on her stopwatch. She orders me and Tristan to swap places. I get into the boat opposite Fran. The boys on the bank are going wild at the sight of the two of us in the boat together. I give her a smile.
‘You gonna crack a joke about how if you get any closer to me you’ll get an STI?’
Fran raises an amused eyebrow. ‘I think you just did. Not bad.’
I feel absurdly proud of myself. ‘You’re not gonna get that kind of banter with Tristan.’
‘Well then, you’d better show us if your rowing matches your comedy skills.’
I take a deep breath and slide forward on my seat. Deb blows her whistle. For the first few dozen strokes, I get that rush of adrenaline that comes every time I race. But as I settle into a rhythm, something feels off. Is it Fran? Am I not used to her style? No, we’re perfectly in sync. Then I realise – I’m doing more of the work than I should be. There’s drag at the back of the boat. When you’ve rowed as many times as I have, you have a feel for these things. But it can’t be that Ed and Ted aren’t pulling their weight. They told me they would. It must be the river current. It was probably like this when Tristan went out. There’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do is keep pulling on my oar, harder and harder and—
‘GEORGE,’ Fran yells.
As I snap into focus, I feel my oar clatter into the oar behind me. I’m still rowing, but everyone else has stopped. What’s going on? Oh, wait – we’ve crossed the finish line. That was quick. Surely I did enough?
I glance over at the bank just in time to see Tristan give Ed and Ted a wink.
‘A wink doesn’t mean anything,’ I say to Lucas. ‘That could just be Tristan trying to mess with me again.’
‘Yeah,’ says Lucas. ‘It could be.’
We’re walking from the train station to the economics department. It’s crazy to think we went three years without once coordinating our schedules like this.
‘This one time in high school, a girl kept winking at me in class, so I hit on her at lunch break. Turns out she was a Mormon with conjunctivitis.’
‘Wow, George. A high school story that doesn’t end with you getting laid. What’s going on?’
What’s going on is something I’d rather not dwell on. I’m slightly concerned that the wink did mean something, and Tristan just screwed my chances of making the first boat for Henley. If I get dropped from the first boat, I can’t see Jemima sticking with me as a client. But I’m not going to worry about that based on one wink.
‘How was Fran?’ asks Lucas.
‘She was really nice. She didn’t roast me once.’
‘I meant as a cox.’
‘Oh yeah, she was awesome. I mean, she’s the only person in our whole squad who’s actually won the Boat Race.’
Lucas looks offended. ‘So she’s better than me?’
‘I didn’t say that. You’re both very talented.’
‘Which one of us would you save from a burning building?’
‘Both of you,’ I say. ‘One under each arm. But I’d get you first.’
I thought that would at least earn me a smile, but Lucas is deep in thought. As we arrive at the economics department, he stops and turns to me. ‘Do you ever think about what Landon said?’
‘About moving to Oxford? I thought you told him to get stuffed.’
‘Obviously I told him that. But Deb hasn’t given us one word of reassurance since the Boat Race. I feel like she’s getting ready to drop us.’
‘If she wanted to drop us, she’d drop us.’
Lucas shakes his head at me in wonder. ‘You’re incredibly relaxed about the possibility that Tristan just cheated you out of a place in the first boat.’
‘It would be a bit much for me to get mad at someone for cheating. Now, are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?’
Lucas leads us up to the economics department library. Like most of the Sidgwick Site, it has an ugly shell, but the interior is much more welcoming. It’s set over two floors, with a central aisle that spans the height of both. All of the desks are occupied with students hard at work. But rather than enter the library, Lucas perches near the entrance, which looks out onto a corridor lined with the offices of various professors.
‘There he is,’ says Lucas.
He gestures towards a door bearing a metal sign with the name ‘Dr Raul Castillo’, and a paper one announcing that it’s office hour, when students are invited to drop in to discuss any issue that might be troubling them. Just then, a man who I presume is Dr Castillo gets up and lets a student into his office. He’s in his thirties, with a sprinkle of silver hair and designer stubble. He welcomes his student warmly, bursting into animated conversation as he shuts his office door.
‘Who’s Dr Castillo?’ I ask Lucas, intrigued.
‘Spanish professor of economic liberalisation. Has a finsta where he posts topless selfies from Ibiza. Once shouted at a canteen worker about the right temperature to serve gazpacho. Oh, and he has a foot fetish.’
‘And why do I need to know all this?’
‘Because he’s on the exam committee. Apparently, he keeps the exam papers locked in his study in Queen’s.’
I follow as Lucas heads along the corridor towards Dr Castillo’s office.
‘Did that book tell you that?’
‘It’s no secret who’s on the exam committee. But that book told me why it’s so great that he’s on the committee this year.’
Lucas raises an eyebrow.
‘He has .?.?. a reputation.’
‘For what?’
‘Getting close to his students.’
‘How close?’
Lucas grins. ‘Only one way to find out.’
I look at him in surprise. ‘You mean me?’
‘Are you happy to flirt with a guy?’
Lucas and I have been getting to know each other pretty well. There’s no reason not to tell him about Hot Spiderman, or even Travis. But now is not the moment.
‘Sure. If you think he’ll be into that.’
‘Why wouldn’t he? Apparently, he loves twinks.’
I laugh out loud. ‘Then he’s not going to like me.’
Lucas looks surprised. ‘You’re kind of a twink.’
‘Please – I’m a twunk at best.’
Lucas looks blank. ‘What’s a twunk?’
‘A hunky twink.’
Lucas frowns. ‘I’m not even totally sure I know what a twink is.’
‘You’re a twink, Lucas! Young, skinny, cute. How do you not know this?’
‘How do you know this?’ Lucas asks in amazement.
‘I have a lot of gay fans. You should read my Instagram comments.’
Lucas chuckles.
‘Seriously though,’ I say, ‘if twinks are what he’s into, you’re our man.’
Lucas is incredulous. ‘He’s not going to prefer me over you.’
‘Yes he will, if that’s his taste. What’s our goal here?’
‘Get an invite back to his study in Queen’s, but there’s no way he’s going to invite—’
Lucas is cut short as Dr Castillo’s door swings open and the previous student exits. The student is a total twink, and Dr Castillo smiles at him fondly as he says goodbye. This is definitely Lucas’s time to shine.
Dr Castillo spots us. ‘Can I help you boys?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Great. Who’s first?’
I glance at Lucas. He’s frozen in fear. I turn to Dr Castillo. ‘Er .?.?. can we come in together?’
Dr Castillo looks surprised, but nods and shepherds us into his office.
Lucas shoots me a confused look, and to be fair, I have no idea what I’m doing – I just knew there was no point in sending Lucas in there on his own when he’s in this state.
Dr Castillo’s office is modern and fairly impersonal, but he has pinned up a couple of postcards on a noticeboard, a Matisse reprint and a view of Ibiza at sunset.
‘Ibiza,’ I say, gesturing at the postcard. ‘Nice.’
‘That’s Poggibonsi,’ says Dr Castillo.
‘Oh.’
He definitely isn’t attracted to me. I can always tell when someone is. Dr Castillo takes a seat and surveys me and Lucas.
‘So how can I help?’
I glance at Lucas, but his eyes are fixed on the wall, and he appears to be dissociating. I try to remember some of the facts from my latest lecture.
‘We just had some questions about the Brainard principle.’
‘Right,’ says Dr Castillo. ‘That’s not really my field, but go ahead.’
‘Er . . . it’s really the way that it runs into a pitfall when you apply it to central banks.’
Dr Castillo does a humourless voilá with his hands.
‘I think you just answered your own question.’
Lucas shoots me an impressed look. I have to admit, I’m impressed with myself too. But this isn’t about me. It couldn’t be clearer that Dr Castillo has no interest in a twunk like me, and is quite reasonably wondering what he’s been dragged into. I give Lucas an urgent look. Finally, he snaps into action and sits forward on his seat.
‘We know this isn’t your usual area,’ says Lucas, ‘but we were discussing your paper on capital structure and felt there was some interesting cross-pollination.’
Just like that, Dr Castillo’s eyes light up.
‘That’s a fascinating point. You’re Lucas Bradshaw, right?’
Lucas blushes. ‘How did you know that?’
‘People talk about you highly in the department.’
This is amazing. Lucas’s reputation precedes him. Dr Castillo is now perched on the edge of his seat, hanging on Lucas’s every word. I nod at Lucas to keep going.
‘That’s good to know,’ says Lucas with a smile.
‘So what can I tell you about capital structure that you don’t already know?’ asks Dr Castillo, trying not to drool.
Lucas gives him a coy smile. ‘I find you can always go deeper when the desire is there.’
Dr Castillo shivers with delight. ‘And is it?’
Lucas holds Dr Castillo’s gaze. ‘Very much so.’
I feel like I’m watching my student graduate. Lucas has Dr Castillo in the palm of his hand. I’d be thinking about making a subtle exit if Dr Castillo hadn’t completely forgotten about my presence.
Lucas leans forward on Dr Castillo’s desk. ‘So do you think we can find a time to talk more?’
Dr Castillo tries to look nonchalant. ‘I’m a busy man. And I’m heading to a conference in Japan tomorrow.’
Lucas pouts his lips in disappointment. ‘Can you not squeeze me in later today?’
Dr Castillo pulls up his calendar on his computer and frowns.
‘I’d be happy to come to your study in Queen’s,’ Lucas says. ‘So we can really . . . put our feet up.’
Lucas glances downwards and slips one foot out of its shoe.
As Dr Castillo clocks it, his expression turns grave. He sits up tightly. ‘I’m guessing you’ve heard certain rumours.’
Lucas is stunned into silence.
‘There’s a fair amount of homophobia in this university,’ says Dr Castillo, ‘not to mention cultural stereotypes. I’ve never been to Ibiza. I don’t even like gazpacho.’
He gives Lucas an almost pitying look.
‘That all came from one of my students who got, shall we say, a bit over-invested. I know how stressful exam term can be. But this isn’t the answer.’
Lucas looks mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
Dr Castillo smiles at him kindly. ‘It’s OK. It happens.’
He stands up to leave and starts chattering to Lucas about equity capital. Lucas looks like he’s got whiplash.
As I follow them out, I notice a set of keys on Dr Castillo’s desk. There are no guarantees that one of them is the key to his study in Queen’s. But what if it is? Before I know what I’m doing, I swipe the keys and put them in my pocket.
Once we get outside and I show Lucas the keys, he can’t believe it. He’s terrified that Dr Castillo will know it’s me who stole them, but I assure him that people always blame themselves for losing their keys. It’s not like Dr Castillo was paying me any attention.
I’m worried that Lucas is going to be convinced his seduction attempt failed, but even he can’t deny that Dr Castillo was into him. I tell Lucas he really ought to update the cheat book and explain that Dr Castillo is a decent guy, but Lucas says we can worry about that later. We have to break into his study in Queen’s tonight. We make a plan to meet outside Lucas’s college at midnight. I count down the hours and wait for Lucas at Trinity Gate. As he arrives, he gestures for me to go back the way I came.
‘Through Trinity?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But .?.?. Queen’s is that way.’
‘If you’re going on foot.’
‘How else are we going to get there?’
Lucas leads me through the shadowy courtyards of Trinity and down to the river. Tied there is Trinity’s collection of punts, which are basically the British version of gondolas, and a popular tourist attraction on the river. I stare at Lucas.
‘We don’t have a choice,’ says Lucas. ‘If we go through the Porter’s Lodge, they’ll have our faces on camera.’
‘There must be a gate we can jump over.’
‘There isn’t. Trust me, if there was an easier solution, we’d be doing it. The only way to get there undetected is by river.’
As he says it, Lucas starts breathing rapidly.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah, I’m just . . . it only just hit me what we’re about to do.’
I give him a reassuring arm rub.
‘It’ll be fun. It’ll be like Ocean’s 11 !’
‘Maybe for you. This is going to be hell for me.’
‘No it’s not. Do you know why?’
Lucas shakes his head. I hold his gaze earnestly.
‘Because I’m here.’
We pull the tarpaulin off one of the punts and push it down a ramp to the edge of the water. I offer to punt, but Lucas says he’ll feel less nervous if he has something to do. I get in the punt and Lucas pushes us off. It feels weird that he’s the one steering when I’m twice the strength and size of him, but he knows what he’s doing. He feeds the punt pole through his hands until it hits the river bed, then pushes off and drags the pole behind him in the water. He explains that he once had a summer job giving punt tours.
I can’t help but be charmed by the image of a teenage Lucas, dropping one-liners for his customers and puncturing their romantic visions of Cambridge. They’d never have guessed what a sensitive soul lurked beneath. Lucas might not like it when I’m sincere, but I hope he knows I meant it when I said I’m here for him.
I’m starting to think I’d do anything for that boy.
On warm days in Cambridge, the river is chaos, but tonight the water is eerily quiet. I tick off each college as we pass it – first Trinity Hall, then Clare, then King’s. If you don’t think too hard about what we’re doing, the scene is magical. The colleges look spectacular from the river, lit by moonlight. Cambridge isn’t a huge party town at the best of times, but this close to exams, it’s silent. The only chance we have of being caught is by someone walking back from the library late at night. As we pass under the bridge at King’s, I catch sight of a student, but they stare vaguely at our punt then keep walking. For all I know, they’re high on Ritalin and think they’re hallucinating.
After a few minutes, we arrive at Queen’s College. Lucas guides the punt into the bank, then sticks the pole in the ground to secure it. We disembark and vault over a low brick wall. I look around to get my bearings. We’re in a deserted courtyard, though there are lights on in a couple of rooms which make my heart jump.
Lucas leads us across the courtyard and down a passageway until we arrive at a stairwell with Dr Castillo’s name on it. At his door, I pull out his keys and try the lock. Lucas is focusing on his breathing, but even my hands are trembling a bit. The first key doesn’t work. But the second one opens the door with a satisfying click.
We step into Dr Castillo’s study. It’s messier than his faculty office, but in a way that feels like a choice. Books are stacked high on all surfaces, and there are piles of paper strewn across his desk and half the floor. The exam papers could be anywhere. Lucas has already started looking. I click into gear and join him.
This is insane. But it’s also amazing. We could be out of here any minute with the exam papers in our hands. I turn over a pile of papers. First year dissertations. I check the next set. Some sort of book manuscript covered in scribbles.
‘Oh my god,’ says Lucas, holding up a piece of paper in triumph.
‘Is that them?’
‘No, but it’s a list of the exam topics!’
As he says it, I freeze. Someone is coming up the stairs.
‘Lucas! Listen!’
‘Shit!’
I run towards the door before realising it’s too late to escape. Lucas is frozen in fear. Then I spot a broom cupboard. I bundle Lucas inside and pull the door shut behind us. Lucas almost cries out in surprise, but I muffle his mouth on my chest to quiet him.
Inside the cupboard, it’s pitch black. There’s barely room to move. Our legs are intertwined, and I can smell the zesty scent of Lucas’s shampoo. My heart rate is going crazy.
Through the door, I hear someone enter the room. It’s Dr Castillo. But he’s not alone. There’s someone else – a younger, male voice – they’re laughing and chatting.
‘Can you hear what they’re saying?’ whispers Lucas.
‘Not really.’
I notice a gap in the cupboard door and stretch to peer through it, even though it involves shifting even closer to Lucas. I can just about make out Dr Castillo on his sofa, and next to him—
‘Oh my god.’
‘What?’
‘That’s the guy who went in before us! The twink!’
I look at Lucas in indignation. ‘So the rumours are true.’
‘Shit,’ says Lucas, ‘do you think he’s brought him here to—’
The chatter in the room outside has stopped. I’m not sure I want to know what’s happening in its place. Now that it’s quiet, I’m even more aware of just how tightly Lucas and I are packed together. I can feel his heart pounding beneath his ribcage and his breath on my cheek. Our crotches are almost touching. That’s a recipe for disaster, but I’m just not going to think about it.
Except now it’s all I can think about. And it’s causing me to have an unfortunate reaction. Why is this happening? Nerves are meant to prompt the opposite response down there, although that’s never been a problem for me. But the more I think about it, the more turned on I am.
I need to be careful. I don’t want to make Lucas uncomfortable. Except .?.?. he must be able to feel me pressing into him, and he hasn’t reacted.
Apart from his breathing.
I swear it’s got faster.
And sure, that might be because of the situation on the other side of the door. But what if it’s because of what’s happening on this side?
It’s then that I feel it.
Lucas is getting hard too. It’s like a domino effect. Within seconds, we’re both as hard as each other. There’s a lot going on down there for a little guy.
This is at once the most embarrassing situation I’ve ever been in and the most exciting. Should I say something? No. That would only make it more embarrassing. And less hot. Now I know I’ve lost my mind, because I’m hiding in a professor’s cupboard and all I can think about is how badly I want to jerk off.
Worse than that, I’m picturing Lucas unzipping me and doing the honours. Needless to say, it’s not helping matters. I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t do something. At the very least, I need to adjust myself so I’m not straining against my pants quite so much.
I can’t do that without touching Lucas, unless I shift my position slightly. As I try to adjust, my leg gives way. I fall forward and come clattering out of the cupboard.
‘What the fuck?!’ yells Dr Castillo.
He leaps up from the sofa, frantically buttoning up his shirt. The twink is rooted to the sofa in shock. It takes him several seconds to come to his senses and pull up his pants from around his ankles.
‘What are you doing in my office?’ Dr Castillo demands.
As I awkwardly adjust my crotch, Lucas steps out from behind me and stares down Dr Castillo.
‘What are you doing in your office, more like.’
Dr Castillo’s expression hardens. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘I see,’ says Lucas. ‘Would you like to keep it that way?’
Dr Castillo is too gobsmacked by Lucas’s gall to answer.
‘Thought so,’ says Lucas. ‘Then I suggest you don’t worry about what we were doing here. We got lost. And now we’re leaving.’
I can’t believe how cool Lucas is being. I would have folded immediately, apologised, confessed. But Lucas is killing this.
He turns to the twink. ‘Don’t throw it all away for this loser.’
Before anyone can say anything else, Lucas strides into the corridor and I follow him out. We don’t say a word until we get back to the punt.
I let out a gasp of relief. ‘You were incredible, Lucas. How did you do that?’
Lucas shrugs. ‘I was trying to impress you.’
We share a smile. I blush as I recall the moment in the cupboard.
‘Shame about the exam topics,’ I say.
Lucas grins, then lifts up his top. The piece of paper is wedged right there.