Easier said than done. Conner shifted in bed, rolling over again. He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. The fight had exhausted him, and then the conversation with Trent . . . and he still had school tomorrow. Sometimes, he just wished the world would stop for a bit.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Trent? So what? The other boy had a crush on him. Plenty of people had crushes on him. Half the girls at school did. He was Conner McKnight! People got crushes on him, and he ignored them. That was just how things worked.

Unless they were hot. Then he went out with them.

But even then, he didn’t spend much time thinking about them. They were just girls. And sure, he liked girls— most of them, anyway. There were a few he didn’t feel keen on. Kira, for one. She still owed him an apology for not telling him Trent liked him.

Or for being so obvious that he’d worked out Trent was gay. He couldn’t decide which.

He turned onto his other side, folding his pillow under his head. Thierry Henry looked back at him from a poster. Conner bet he never had problems like this.

Why had he told Trent he liked him? He barely even knew him. Their longest conversation so far had been so embarrassing it made Conner feel like hiding for the rest of time. Other than that, what did he really know about Trent? Nothing that would make Conner like him.

Of course, Conner had recently started liking Ethan and Kira. Maybe he was ill. The make-friends-with-people-you-barely-know-and-have-nothing-in-common-with disease.

MFWPYBKAHNICW syndrome for short.

Ethan and Kira were different, though. They were teammates, fellow rangers. And they didn’t like-like him. The thought seemed a little incestuous.

Trent did like him. And Trent made him feel strange and do stupid things. Say stupid things, like ‘I like you’. Which felt disturbing and horrible, because Conner wasn’t that dumb. Some things, he could work out. Even if he really didn’t want to.

He was Conner McKnight. Soccer star, jock, the guy the girls lusted after, the one the teachers spoiled just a little. The one who didn’t even like girls who were nerdy and good at math, and did things like draw for a hobby, instead of something fun like soccer.

If he had to fall for any guy, couldn’t it at least be one who was cool? One who was completely straight and uninterested in Conner? At least that way Conner would have the chance to sort himself out and convince himself that he’d gone mad. Or that he didn’t actually feel anything at all.

Why did it have to be Trent?

--

“Trent?”

Conner couldn’t believe it. Trent had been fighting—trying to fight—golden-boy? Trent? What had he been thinking? He could have been hurt! He could have been killed! And what was Dr. O doing, just lying there and letting Trent fight . . .

He noticed Trent looked very confused. “You know my name too?” he asked, glancing at Kira.

Kira gave a small shrug Conner guessed meant sorry.

“Erm . . . it’s our job to know people’s names,” Ethan said, sounding as if he suddenly caught tonsillitis. “And rescue them. And protect them. You are safe now.”

Dr. O had gotten up and was starting to make shooing motions. Conner got it. He wanted them to leave before Ethan made them sound any stupider, or Trent guessed who they were.

“Come on . . . Yellow,” he muttered, trying to put on an accent. “Let’s go.”

Dr. O glared at them as they passed. Conner sensed a lecture coming on— probably one on the importance of remembering you have a secret identity at all times.

Maybe he could run away before Dr. O dropped Trent off . . . wherever. Dr. O might forget the lecture if Conner stayed away long enough. Like, a million years.

Maybe two million would be safer.

--

That was harsh.

Conner complained about his own parents plenty— they nagged, split up Eric and him, yelled at him, occasionally tried to ground him, and insisted on coming to every Parent-Teacher Night, but at least they’d never tried to buy a café to stop him working there. To make him work there, maybe, but to try and ruin something he loved like that?

It would be like, he thought with a shiver, them trying to make him give up soccer.

Still. It hadn’t happened. They’d beaten the monster, saved the councilwoman, and gotten her to slap down Trent’s dad.

But the look on Mercer’s face when the councilwoman told him— that was harsh. Like he hated them all for ruining his precious son. Anger like that just wasn’t normal. Not in Conner’s world, anyway.

Conner would not like to be in Trent’s shoes tonight.

And speaking of Trent . . .

Conner wound through the crowd to where Ethan had Trent by the sleeve, babbling on about something and gesturing round the room. Probably describing how they’d just humiliated Trent’s dad in front of the entire café. Well, even Conner knew that was insensitive.

“Hey,” he said as soon as he got close enough. “Ethan, I think Kira was looking for you.”

Hopefully she wouldn’t say anything stupid when Ethan told her he’d left Conner and Trent alone.

Ethan nodded. “’Kay. See you later, Trent!”

“See you.” Trent kept glancing back outside. Conner noticed he looked a little pale; expecting his dad to come back?

“Dude, are you okay?”

Trent looked surprised to see him, as if he hadn’t noticed Conner before. “Yeah . . . yeah. I’m okay.” He glanced towards the doors again.

“You think your dad’s going to come back?”

“No, no. He won’t come back.”

Conner bit his lip, stuck on why Trent looked so shaky. “He’s not going to . . . I mean, he’s not going to do anything to you, is he?”

Now Trent really did look surprised, turning his full attention to Conner for the first time. “No, of course not. He’s not like that.” He glanced back outside again, and then around the room. “I think I’m going to take off.”

“Oh. Well, um, I was wondering if . . . I was wondering if we could talk?” Which was breaking their vow to forget everything, but Conner needed to sleep sometime. Maybe if they got closure or something that would end it. He didn’t know how you got closure, but they could try.

Trent had already started sidling towards the door. “Look, I really have to go. I’ll see you another time, yeah?” And before Conner even got a chance to reply, Trent was gone.

Conner stared after him in disbelief. What had that been about? Trent was supposed to have a crush on him! Trent was supposed to pay attention to him. Not practically ignore him when Conner was doing his best to sound sympathetic, and then walk out!

He hadn’t even apologised. Just left, like he didn’t even care what Conner wanted to say. Maybe he really did want to forget it all— which shouldn’t make Conner feel angry and more hurt than he wanted to think about. They had agreed.

Which meant Conner should start forgetting it too. Just as soon as he got over the fact that Trent had blown him off in a way Conner was more used to doing to girls.