PROLOGUE
The golf club’s interior had been decorated with strings of lights and swathes of billowing fabric in a shade of green matching our school colour. The setting reminded me of a wedding rather than my school’s Year 13 Leavers’ Prom.
Outside on the terrace, students milled around, making the most of the warm summer evening. Making my way to a quiet corner of the terrace, I leaned back against the stone balustrade and sipped my complimentary glass of Prosecco. It felt weird to drink at a school event, but I guessed that most of us were legally adults by now, other than the unlucky few who hadn’t yet had their eighteenth birthday.
“E, my man.” Marc, one of the guys from my business studies class, wandered over, tapping his glass against mine. “You drinking that fizzy shit? You need a pint.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. It wasn’t my first choice, but it was free.”
“Fair enough. My date stole mine, but she bought me this pint, so I ain’t complaining. Who did you come with tonight? I guess you didn’t have much choice, huh?” He gave me a sympathetic smile, and I sighed internally. Yes, I was gay, and yes, there were only a few other guys that I knew of in my school year that were gay or bisexual or pansexual or open to taking another guy to prom as their date, but even if the entire year had been gay, it wouldn’t have made a difference. There was only one person I’d want to take me to something like this, and he was here with someone else.
“I came with a group. Not everyone’s brought dates with them.”
Marc’s gaze shifted to the open doors that led into the golf club. “Yeah, good point, mate. Not Ander, though. Fucking hell, he is one lucky bastard getting to take Zoe.”
I followed the direction of his gaze in time to see my best friend, his arm curved around his date, both of them smiling for the prom photographer as he directed them to pose. They looked so good together, two of the most popular people in our school, both poised and gorgeous.
I carefully suppressed the emotions that were trying to rise to the surface. It had been difficult enough to see them together earlier…
“One more photo!” My mum bustled around with the camera, arranging everyone to her liking. A group of us had gathered at my house before the prom, and a limo was going to pick us up to take us to the golf club. In her excitement, my mum had taken it upon herself to become our unofficial photographer, and she’d bullied my dad into rounding everyone up and taking us outside where, according to her, it was “golden hour.” My best friend, Ander, still hadn’t arrived, but he’d sent me a text a few minutes earlier to say that his date was running late and they’d be with us in the next ten minutes.
There was a sudden shout of greeting from one of our friends, and my breath caught in my throat as Ander appeared from the side of the house. He must have let himself in like he’d done hundreds of times before.
“Oh, my! Ander, you look wonderful! And who is your lovely date? What a beautiful dress!” My mum was all bright-eyed enthusiasm, immediately rushing over and raising the camera to snap a photo. As for me, I stood in the back garden of my family home, struck dumb at the sight.
Now I got what my mum meant by the “golden hour.”
The soft early evening sunlight danced across Ander, bathing him in its glow. He was clad in a navy-blue suit that fitted his athletic body like it was custom-made just for him. The sun made his chestnut hair shine with reds and burnished golds, and even from where I was standing, I could see the way his hazel eyes shone as his mouth curved into the smile I loved so much.
His arm was wrapped around his date, who had a long, shimmering silver dress on, her dark hair all curled and pinned up in a style that probably took ages to create. She looked beautiful, and I wished that I was a better person. I wished that I wasn’t so overcome with completely irrational jealousy that I couldn’t speak.
I wished.
But I knew that wishes were for fools.
Tearing my gaze away from Ander and Zoe, I redirected the conversation, and fast. “How do you think you did in your exams?”
Marc groaned. “Don’t remind me of them. As long as I did well enough to get into Bournemouth Uni, I’m good. What about you? You’re going to London, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. London Southwark University, as long as I get the grades.”
“Cool.” His attention was diverted again, but this time, it was by his date, who greeted me with a smile.
“Hi, Elliot. You look nice.”
“Thanks, Izzy. You too. Uh, nice dress. It suits you.”
She beamed at me, so I guessed my compliment had hit the mark. Turning to Marc, she threaded her arm through his. “There’s a photo booth inside. Come on.”
A photo booth. I was suddenly hopeful. Maybe I could steal Ander for a few minutes so we could get some photos taken. One last memory of our school years before everyone moved away to different parts of the country, beginning their adult lives. One final reminder of our childhood together.
“Catch ya later.” Marc gave me a nod, and then I was alone again. But I wasn’t going to stand here moping on the night of my prom. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating.
Finishing up the remainder of the Prosecco, I went inside on a search for something different to drink, preferably something with plenty of ice and plenty of alcohol. The only way I was going to get through this night was with the help of my friend, whiskey sour. I’d never actually had it before, but my dad liked it, and it sounded more exciting than the beer and cider that everyone else seemed to be drinking. Plus—ice.
“You sure you want that?” The bartender eyed me doubtfully after checking my ID to make sure I was eighteen. “Wouldn’t you prefer a beer?”
I raised a brow. “Why would I prefer a beer?”
“He doesn’t like beer.” A warm weight was suddenly slung across my shoulders, and then Ander was pulling me into a sideways hug, a bright grin on his face. “But I agree about the drink. Come on, E, you don’t wanna end up getting wasted, especially not this early. You’re not used to drinking that kind of thing.”
I glared at him, and he just squeezed my shoulder, smiling widely. For fuck’s sake. I couldn’t even be angry with him, not when he was this happy. With a sigh, I gave in to the inevitable. “What do you suggest, then, since you apparently know best?”
His brows pulled together as he scanned the various offerings behind the bar. “How about…gin?”
“Really? My mum drinks that.”
“Yeah, but I think you’ll like it. And if you don’t, I’ll buy you something else, yeah?” He turned to the bartender. “A gin with lemonade and plenty of ice, please. And I’ll have a pint of Carlsberg. Oh, better add another Prosecco for Zoe too.”
As if he’d summoned her, Zoe suddenly appeared by his elbow, and he removed his arm from around me. “I got you a Prosecco. And here’re the photos from the photo booth. I kept one, but you can have the rest.”
She gave him a soft smile as she accepted the pictures from him. He smiled in return, and yeah, I was feeling like a third wheel.
“You having a good time?” Ander slipped his arm around Zoe’s waist, but he was looking at me. “Wanna take advantage of the photo booth later? Try to break the camera with the faces we pull?”