Chapter 31

“Fucking lamp him, Walshy,” he said in that deep droning voice.

“Face it, Polski,” Will sneered, his face inches from Jude’s. Anton’s heart was beating too hard in his throat. The room stilled. “You’ve gone fucking bent, ain’t you?”

Jude moved like lightning. A shriek went up from a couple of the girls—but rather than punch Will, as Anton had expected, he grabbed Will’s head in both hands and kissed him.

Kissed him.

Full on the mouth, one hundred percent smacker, kissed him. The girls shrieked again, and a couple of the boys jeered, and then Jude pushed Will away so hard that he was flung backwards on the gym floor, and Jude spat on his shoes.

“There,” he said. “That get all the sexual tension out? Next time you fancy a macking, Thorney, you might want to try asking like a nice bloke, yeah? I don’t give out freebies often, sweetheart.”

Will spat on the floor, snarled—and launched.

Chaos.