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He’d asked everyone to keep an eye on Cian and his gang while he was gone, on the off chance that one of the bastards slipped up.

RedBullBren69: Think he realized everyone hates his guts?

Much as he wished that was the truth, some of their classmates had reverted to their usual treatment of him by the time Arlo’s exchange had ended.

Merlin.Pendragon: It’s a nice thought at least.

RedBullBren69: What about Cian?

The urge to wash his hands surged through him as he forced himself to type the name. He compromised by rubbing them on his comforter.

Merlin.Pendragon: He’s telling people you ran off to Canada because you couldn’t hack it at a ‘real school’.

Bren rolled his eyes. If there was one thing in life he wasn’t stressing about right now, it was rumors started by Cian.

RedBullBren69: The fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Merlin.Pendragon: Probably that he’s got a tiny dick.

RedbullBren69: 100%, but now it’s in my fucking head

Merlin.Pendragon: Like a wee splinter.

He’d been wrong. Talking to Rory back then had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

RedBullBren69: I don’t give a fuck what he says about me, but keep an eye on him, yeah?

Merlin.Pendragon: Asleep or awake, working or eating, indoors or out of doors, in the bath or in bed—no escape.

RedBullBren69: ???

Merlin.Pendragon: I weep for the future of Ireland.

Bren leaned back from the laptop to watch the blade of the ceiling fan above his bed. He’d gone his whole life without ever questioning whether Ireland would be in his future before Arlo had stammered his way into it. Strange how one person could turn sixteen years of certainty on its head. Canada or Ireland—what did it matter as long as they got to be together in the end?

Bren dropped his head in time to see Rory’s next message arrive, and a shudder passed through him. Anywhere that wasn’t England.

17

“Fucking ow, bro!”

The spike of pain that rocketed up from his tailbone made it hard for Bren to feel bad for Dustin as he tried to shake off the tingling from his hand.

“Seriously, we need to get some meat on you. Poor A.J.”

Bren’s eyes shot around the locker room as Dustin’s voice struggled to rise above the din. Between the hissing showers on the other side of the stone divider and the fifteen guys rummaging around in their lockers while shouting to friends, nobody heard.

“Or you could just stop slappin’ my arse. Gonna start thinkin’ you’re takin’ a run at me.”

Dustin didn’t look the least bit embarrassed as he pulled on a T-shirt, pausing to smooth the hem down past his stomach.

“No offence, bro, but have you seen me?” He ran a hand through his close-cropped beard and struck a pose. “I could do a lot better than you if I was into dudes. Grizzly mode.”

A guy nearby shook his head but didn’t comment on the declaration. Bren wasn’t sure what to do with it either, and he clipped the lock back on his locker before throwing up a hand to say goodbye.

“Hey, wait up!”

Dustin slammed his own locker shut and wove between a couple of half-dressed guys to catch up.