“He says otherwise.”
Connor clenched his teeth together, irritated. “Well, he’s a liar, alright? Or he was drunk and imagined we got together, but we never did.” He reached for his stomach, rubbing the bite mark through his shirt. Warmth fluttered over his stomach, and his body forcibly relaxed like he’d taken a pill to calm himself.
“I had a crush on someone at school,” Connor said, his voice coming out calm. “He’s why I never dated during the holidays.”
“You get with a dozen guys every summer.”
“You’re the only guy I’ve ever been with out here,” Connor replied. He looked right at San, meeting his eyes. “And as much as an asshole as I can be, you know I’m not one for lying. I might flirt with the blows in and go out on the water with them, but that’s as far as it goes.”
Sam looked conflicted, like he was trying to believe Connor but didn’t.
“I liked you. That’s why I was up for it when you made a move.”
“But?”
Connor swallowed. Those few months with Sam swarmed his memory. The nights when he’d kiss Sam and Austin’s sharp eyes would flash in his mind. His grin, his pouting lips, that pale throat. “But I still liked the guy from school. And as it got closer to the end of summer, I felt shitty that I still couldn’t get him out of my head. That was the best summer I’d ever had out here, and it was like that because of you, but I still…” Connor pinched the bite on his stomach, a flutter of warmth spreading at the action. His worry dampened as the warmth spread. “I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me, and I felt guiltier and guiltier every time we met up, so I—”
“Stopped meeting up,” Sam finished. “Went radio silent on me until I saw you going out on the water withotherguys who would come back boasting to the poor fishing boy what a ride his boyfriend was.”
Connor flinched. He jerked his head toward Sam and saw the anger simmering in his eyes. “I didn’t know they said that.”
The Ferris wheel groaned as their booth came to a swinging stop at the bottom. There was a mechanical hiss as the doors opened. Connor took in Sam’s tensed jaw, and he climbed out first.
Mary hovered at the exit ropes, gaze fixed on Sam as she waited to read his expression. As they got closer, she saw that Sam was far from pleased, and the look she pinned on Connor was murderous.
“Suppose you’ll be drowning me, then?” Connor asked her, his voice coming out bland as if he were bored. Truthfully, he was anything but. He didn’t like anything that had happened with Sam, and now that he knew those stuck-up idiots had been coming back and taunting Sam, he felt infinitely worse. But he was glad that they’d talked. Because he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell Sam that they’d been lying otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Connor said while Mary steamed. “You got hurt, and I’m sorry for it. You never deserved that.”
Mary gaped at Connor but quickly recovered. “A little late to apologise now, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Connor agreed.
Laurence’s small frame caught his attention, and Connor turned his head to study his little brother. He stood next to three guys who, he could see from here, had nasty expressions on their faces. Whatever Mary spit at him next was lost on him as he watched with growing concern how the biggest of the guys got into Laurence’s personal space.
Laurence yelped at the sudden shove that sent him flying back. He would have fallen, but Connor had seen the danger and moved forward to catch him. He caught the tail end of an insult like that of which had resulted in Connor charged with a hate crime.
That Laurence had just been shoved—pushed—and for this reason? It infuriated Connor. If he said that he didn’t take the time to think about his response, he would be lying. He did think about it. Weighed up the benefits of walking away and shrugging this off. And then he weighed up how it would feel if he’d let Laurence get shoved like that, get called names like that, without consequence. By the time Laurence got his feet under him, Connor’s mind was made up.
Connor’s fist flew, crunching into the bully’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Connor often used his words to fight battles; he never realised how gratifying it was to have someone fall at his feet, inept.
“What the fuck?” The bully collapsed with a groan.
“Not so fun when it’s someone your own size, is it?” Connor debated kicking dirt into his face but held back. Accidentally blinding the guy would bring more trouble than it was worth. “You should be keeping up with the news. They’re bringing in harsher penalties for hate crimes.”
The bully glared at Connor. There was a second of quiet, and then everyone moved at once. The three of them converged on Connor, but Sam’s tall body, strong from work on the fishing boat, shoved one back. Laurence leapt at the other one, spitting curses, and the bully on the ground tackled Connor.
Connor didn’t go down. The idiot had a second to realise that he’d picked a fight with someone stronger than him before Connor shoved him off easily. And once again, he had the choice; spring on the prone idiot, lay into him with kicks and punches or walk away?
He thought of Laurence’s yelp. And then he thought of Trevor. Trevor would forgive the first punch, Connor was certain. But he was less sure about how he would feel if things went further. Would Trevor be disappointed in him if things shifted from defence to punishment?
Connor reached out, catching Laurence’s arm before he launched himself at the retreating trio.
There were a few on-lookers, but it was quiet enough that it was mainly just staff that had witnessed the scuffle.
“We’d better get going,” Connor said, noting that a few people were on their phones. He caught the look Sam gave him. “What?”
“Since when do you throw punches?”
