Page 92 of Freshman

“That’s it, Alfie. Let’s get you back to normal again.”

He nodded, braced his hands on the door and got to his feet. He swayed slightly and gripped the rail. He wanted to thank Queenie but thought the sound of his wrecked voice would set him off again.

Alfie stared down at his feet as he forced one to move, then the other. His hand was so tight on the railing his skin turned stark white, and his movements were slow and stilted.

Henry waited for him at the gate with his arms crossed, but when he came out of the shadows and into the lobby lights, Henry’s mouth dropped in shock.

“What the hell happened?”

Alfie flicked his head back, but it felt stiff as he moved. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Henry said.

Glen appeared from the office, shaking his head. “Jesus, Alfie, you don’t look good…”

Marie followed behind him, fringe messy and lipstick smudged. “Have you been sick?”

Alfie clutched at the idea and nodded. “Yeah, by the cells.”

“Why didn’t you just say that instead of spewing rubbish about the pipes?”

Alfie shrugged. “Thought I’d keep it secret.”

Henry’s face tightened in disgust. “Nice, guess I’ll have to clear it up.”

Alfie shook his head. “It’s sorted, not much. I went back to apologise.”

Glen snorted. “Apologise?”

“I woke Queenie up. Asked for tissue through the hatch.”

Henry frowned. “You shouldn’t do that, but at least you asked Queenie, not Nate. Who knows what he would’ve done.”

Marie stepped forward and pressed her palm to Alfie's head. “You do feel sweaty.”

Henry sighed. “Go home. Can’t have you here vomiting everywhere.”

Alfie didn’t argue. He rushed past with his body stooped over and his arms hugging his stomach. He felt the eyes of his colleagues boring into him. He wondered if they had worked out his lie and were muttering in his wake.

Once he was home, he cleaned himself in the shower. The water was scalding hot, and he washed every touch, every kiss and lingering scent of Nate off his body. He scrubbed his cum off his skin, then swept a flannel between his arse cheeks to clean away any mess.

Afterwards, Alfie collapsed onto the sofa and hugged his arms around his shivering body. It was dark outside, but the curtains were still partially drawn, and he could see the sign for Larkwood.

He snapped his gaze away.

Too weak to stand, he rolled to face the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

He called in sick the next day, said he had a fever and was nonstop vomiting. Ryan heard the croak in his voice and gave him the week off. They didn’t want the prisoners coming down with a vomiting virus.

Nate called him each night, and he stared at his name flashing on the phone but didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to listen to the voicemails either. His brain was still spinning from the suddenness of everything. He was so wrapped up in Nate, in the moment, then reality had slapped him around the face. He didn’t even have time to recover before he was thrust in front of his colleagues and forced to lie to save his skin. He was a prison officer and had just had sex with the most notorious criminal in Larkwood.

It got to Friday, and the crushing feeling didn’t lessen. He ignored the knock to the door from the pizza guy and crushed his head under a cushion.

Tia didn’t understand he wanted to be left alone. Despite him ignoring her calls and her angry banging on the door, she strode in, twirling a key on her finger.

“Knew I shouldn’t have given that to you.”

She clutched the key in her fist. “It’s for emergencies, and it must be an emergency if you couldn’t get up for these.”

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