resigned himself to never seeing Jack on UK soil ever again, though the explanation for his sudden reappearance explained the strange silent phone calls.
“I can get you in for free, if you’re worried about money. I can meet you at the gate.” Jack paused. Will could almost see him wrapping his fringe around his index finger, chewing on his bottom lip. “You’re still fucked off with me about Christmas, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that.” Will sat down amongst the mess of junk mail and take-away menus. “I’m still in Leeds because I’m working, remember? I’ll have to change my shifts around.”
“Do you think you can?”
Will shrugged before he remembered Jack couldn’t see him. “I can try. Does your mobile work in the UK? I can call you later if I figure it out.”
“Yeah, it works.” Jack sounded deflated. “I might not hear it, though, if I’m on stage. Leave me a message. I’ll call you back.”
There wasn’t much left to say. Jack hung up and left Will sitting in the hallway of his deserted student house, pondering what the fuck to do next.
W ILL GRIPPED the phone so hard it creaked, like it would surely snap. “I’m not going. I can’t go, can I? It’s a stupid fucking idea, isn’t it?”
Suki laughed, though it sounded kind rather than mocking. “I don’t know, babe. You haven’t seen him since last summer. Maybe you should go, clear the air a bit. You haven’t talked about, well, anything with him, have you? You’ve been blanking him since that magazine thing. Never gave him a chance to explain.”
“He didn’t want to explain.” Will scowled at a piece of chewing gum stuck to the ground. Kicked it. “And it doesn’t bloody matter anymore, anyway. I’m over that shit.”
“Yeah? So what’s the problem? If you’re sound with it, go to the festival and party with your oldest friend.”
Put like that and combined with Will’s unwillingness to admit how screwed up his feelings for Jack still were, there wasn’t much Will could say. Besides, he was outside the festival ground, hiding in a phone box, just a few feet from where he’d agreed to meet Jack. There was no going back now, and his panicked call to Suki’s parents’ house in Staines had done nothing to ease the sickening churn in his belly.
Will garbled a good-bye to Suki and rang off. He lingered a moment longer in the phone box, like he could pocket the claustrophobic sanctuary and take it with him. A sense of the ridiculous crept over him. Man up, you daft twat.
He forced himself out of the phone box. The heat of a rare scorching day took him back to the previous summer in Ibiza, when he’d stepped off the plane and near enough run straight into Jack’s arms—platonically, of course. It wouldn’t be like that this time, if Will ever found the balls to cross the road. He didn’t know much, but of that he was certain. Something undefined had changed between them, and Will wasn’t sure he could face it.
He crossed the road anyway and scanned the busy entrance, searching among the stewards and students passing out leaflets for any sign of Jack. Not that he knew what he was looking for. So much had changed; Jack could’ve dyed his hair purple for all Will knew.
A warm hand clamped down on Will’s shoulder. Jack. It had to be, no one else could light Will on fire by touch alone, and sure enough, he turned and found himself face to face with all sandy-haired six foot of Jack bloody Lawson.
Jack offered a tentative grin and pulled Will in a man hug they’d shared a thousand times over. “All right, mate?”
Will mumbled into Jack’s shoulder.
Jack pulled away. “What’s that?”
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Who cares?” Jack’s smile widened enough for Will to believe him. “You’re here now, ain’t ya? Where’s your bag? You can dump it in the van if you want.”
“I didn’t bring a bag. I live twenty minutes away.”
“Oh. Okay. Do you want to come and see some new DJs