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had swelled to half-mast against his thigh. He wasn’t so embarrassed or self-conscious about it now they had been so close, messing around in the water. And besides, Summer didn’t seem to mind.
    Holding Summer’s gaze, he nodded. Of course he wanted to go back to Summer’s house. He had nowhere else to go, and at the same time, nowhere else he’d rather be.
    When Summer smiled, everything seemed easy as sunshine, and Christopher wanted to remember lying naked on this beach with him forever.
    “You should have wings,” he said in what he hoped was a whisper, feeling his voice catch over the words.
    “Wings?” Summer mouthed, curious.
    But Christopher could not articulate further what he meant. Instead, holding his breath, he touched Summer’s upper back, his shoulder blades, the delicate ridges of his spine, his fingers ghosting featherlight over the warm skin.
    As though they had been transported to an alternate universe, the air became heavy and charged as a thunderstorm. Christopher watched Summer react, his pupils grow large and dark. He noticed the subtle shift of Summer’s hips, and imagined Summer was as turned-on as he was.
    But Christopher was unsure how to take things further. He’d never instigated anything like this, especially not with someone he knew was older and probably far more experienced, so he stopped, and for a while they lay together unmoving on the sand. A few white clouds appeared in the achingly blue sky above the cliff, slowly drifting out to sea.
    After a minute or two, Summer touched Christopher’s arm and got up. “Come on,” he said.
    Reluctantly, Christopher dressed.
    Summer’s confidence in his own skin and his enjoyment of being naked gave Christopher the confidence to be naked around him. Bodies were beautiful, they were to be enjoyed, so what if your body showed how much you liked someone? Dressing again seemed like putting on a mask.
    They retraced their steps away from the cove, wading through the deepening water and across the rocks.
    Halfway up their climb of the cliff face, Summer took Christopher’s hand and squeezed. Christopher’s heart pounded, and he wondered, not for the first time, how loud that sound must be.
     
     
    S UMMER LIVED on the edge of the estate near the dual carriageway, less than ten minutes from the sea.
    “Mum’s home. Wait here,” he instructed, leaving Christopher standing on a narrow strip of grass behind a row of whitewashed maisonettes as he disappeared around the side of the buildings, presumably to the front door.
    A few minutes later, he appeared at a window level with Christopher’s head.
    “Don’t want Mum to know you’re here. She’ll only ask awkward questions,” he said, opening the window wide and beckoning Christopher to climb inside, which he did with the utmost catlike grace.
    “You move like a dancer,” Summer said, watching appraisingly as Christopher looked around the surprisingly tidy bedroom.
    No posters marred the walls; no dirty clothes lay strewn across the floor. A single pile of heavy-looking textbooks served as a bedside table.
    “Yeah, I’m a neat freak,” Summer said, rolling his eyes. “Not many people get to see the conventional side of me, you know.”
    Christopher smiled, unsure what to do with himself. Being so tall, he felt like he was taking up a lot of space, and there wasn’t a lot of space to take up in this room. He wondered if he should sit on the bed.
    “Are you hungry?” Summer asked, something in his expression telling Christopher he understood his discomfort and wanted to put him at ease.
    “A bit.” Christopher shrugged.
    “Make yourself at home, and I’ll go and steal some food from the fridge.”
    Christopher sat down on Summer’s bed and glanced around, taking in more of the plain-seeming room and realizing, as he looked closer, there were little touches of Summer’s personality after all: a bottle of blue hair dye, a tub of glitter, and a black kohl pencil stood alone on