‘Don’t mention it,’ I grumble, reluctantly accepting it. He squeezes me tightly for a moment, and it actually feels kinda nice. I let it linger for just a second before pushing him off. I don’t want him getting the wrong idea about us. It’ll take more than a game of Capture the Flag to mend our relationship. We’re not suddenly best friends again.

‘I’m gonna go say congrats,’ he says, looking over at Rhys. I can tell he’s already starting to itch from being away from him. This is exactly why we can’t just go straight back to being besties. His friends will always be his second choice.

I take a deep breath and try not to let it bother me.

‘OK, have fun.’ I try to sound sincere. ‘But see you later, yeah?’

I’m not sure he even hears me. His boyfriend consumes his whole world again as he rushes over to throw his arms round him. And, just like that, me, Chase and Bec are forgotten about all over again. I wonder if he’ll even bother to talk to us at prom.

‘Three–two to Hawthorn!’ Miss Madzikanda booms through her loudspeaker. Hawthorn erupt all over again. ‘Congratulations to this year’s winners!’

I watch as Kellen fist-bumps Ethan and exchanges air kisses with Tiffany. I almost choke on the venom that sits in the back of my throat.

‘I really thought we could beat them,’ Chase says as he and Bec come to join me. ‘Just this once. Show them that they’re not better than the rest of us.’

‘They’re not,’ I say. ‘They cheated. Ethan stole a blue bandana. He pretended to be Cameron to get close to our flag, then stole it from right underneath us.’

‘What?’ Bec says. ‘Are you serious? Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Because what’s the point?’ I say. ‘It’ll be my word against his. It’ll just make us look like sore losers. I’m not sure that’s even against the rules anyway.’

‘What about Kellen?’ Chase says. ‘He’ll back you up, right?’

‘What do you think?’ I say, watching him fawning all over his Hawthorn boyfriend.

‘Well, you know what? Let’s just not give them the satisfaction,’ Bec says. ‘We go high. It’s just a game. Who honestly cares, right?’

‘Right,’ I say.

But I do care. More than I’d like to admit.

Golden afternoon light pours through the windows of the old shower block as I peer inside. Result! There’s nobody here yet. Getting the showers to yourself at Oakbrook is a rarity. And I know: communal shower, private school – that’s a gay teenager’s wet dream, right? But honestly? The whole thing just makes me uncomfortable. It’s like forced exhibitionism. As if the students of Oakbrook aren’t already judgemental enough in the classroom and the dorms. I don’t want them sizing me up in the shower too.

The pipes groan as I turn the tap and step under the hot water, and just as the room starts to slowly fill with steam –