I lay my hand on Simon’s neck and scratch at the back of his hair, where it’s too short to curl. He glances over his shoulder to smile at me. We’re going hunting after this. And then we’re getting fish and chips. And then we’re going back to Simon’s apartment together. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have toast in bed. I rub his neck, and he doesn’t shrug me off. (This must be another place where it’s okay to be gay—or whatever Simon is.)
