Page 50 of Freshman

Henry sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Every time I think you’ve made progress, you open your naïve mouth. Us and them, remember? If Nate Mathews gets into difficulties in the night, it’s not exactly a tragedy, and it’s far more likely he’ll pretend so he can get to you. Trust me, Fish.”

Alfie turned away and stared out of the office window at H-wing. He wanted to apologise, but he didn’t know the reception it would get.

When roll call came, Glen offered to do Nate’s row of cells. Alfie declined, and Glen immediately sagged and wiped the bead of sweat off his brow.

Each cell Alfie ticked off felt like a step closer to doom, and his heart thumped so hard and fast it hitched his breathing. His feet felt heavier, clumsy almost, and when he got to Queenie’s door, his knock was so soft Queenie didn’t reply.

“Queenie?” he croaked, then rubbed at his tight throat.

“Yep, it’s the glamourous Queenie, as always.”

Alfie took the final two steps to Nate’s door and glanced behind himself. He stood in the farthest corner of the prison, and he heard the gate open and close as Glen and Marie went back into the lobby.

Alfie breathed deep and laid his hand flat on the cell door. “Nate?”

He winced and stiffened his body, expecting a battering of the door, but it didn’t come.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Alfie gawped, then sunk his teeth into his lip. Nate’s voice hadn’t been close. It didn’t have its usual alluring tone that rushed over Alfie’s skin, leaving a feverish heat in its wake. He sounded redundant, unbothered.

Alfie pushed his lips to the crack of the door and whispered as quietly as he could, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

There was no sound of Nate getting closer. His voice was just as mumbled and far away. Alfie leaned back and stared at the door. He’d rather Nate shout and hiss than say nothing. No flirty whispers, no asking for him to open the hatch.

Alfie shifted from foot to foot. Then he dropped to his knees, and without thinking on it, he slotted his key into the hatch and opened it as quietly as he could.

The lights from outside the prison shone on the bed, and Alfie could see Nate lying on his back. He held something in his hand above his head, a piece of paper that he turned over in his fingers repeatedly. Nate didn’t look at the open hatch. He didn’t appear to have noticed Alfie watching him.

Alfie licked his lips, swallowed, then whispered, “I’m sorry, I… I wasn’t thinking earlier.”

“Why are you apologising? Are you scared I’ll get you back?”

Alfie frowned and shook his head. “No, I just—”

“You should be, Freshman. People say I’ve killed for far less.”

“I lost it. I hit you when I shouldn’t have.”

Nate blew a long breath through his pursed lips. “It’s kind of a relief.”

“A relief?”

Nate smirked, then sat up on the bed. He still didn’t look at the open hatch but the wall opposite.

“You can handle yourself if you need to. My protection will only go so far in here. I’m glad that for whatever reason, you know how to punch. How’s the hand?”

“The hand?” Alfie gasped. “Jesus Christ, I’m not bothered about my hand. How’s your lip?”

“Stings,” Nate said slowly. “I’m guessing the hand does too.”

Alfie splayed his fingers on the hatch door and snorted at his reddened knuckles. “Probably not as much.”

Nate swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor. Alfie knew this was the time he should shut the hatch. They had made peace, whether fake or real Alfie didn’t know, but he had said what he wanted to.

“I guess you want this back?” Nate said, flapping the piece of paper.

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