Loch leans closer to my right side. “Once more unto the breach?” he reads.
Yeah, I should’ve worn sleeves.
My eyes shut again and I rub the skin over my nose. “The product of the year I started university and had way too much freedom and equally too many emotions about said freedom.”
Oh, talking is somehow as bad as looking up quickly.
I bend forward, elbows on my knees, breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth.
Maybe if I get Coal to respond to that photo, she’ll—
No. Stop. I don’t want him to have to deal with her.
This race is going to suck.
“You look ill,” Loch notes.
“Your pillow talk leaves something to be desired, darling.”
He kicks my chair and I choke down a heave.
“Fuck off,” I moan pathetically.
“Did you eat?”
My nausea now has far less to do with whatever alcohol I had last night, but that comment earns him a full, searing glare. “Hilarious.”
“You did na eat? Did you see the tray?”
“Oh, I saw the tray, and your joke was received. What do you want, a medal? You win that round. Now stop talking about food.”
“Christ, but you are a gobshite, aren’t you?”
“Awhat?”
“A gobshite,” a new voice says. Finn, walking into the foyer, trailed by Siobhán. Neither are dressed to run, both bundled up in wool coats and scarves. “A fool. What’d he do now?”
“Canna handle his whiskey and thinks he can do this run on an empty stomach,” Loch says.
I cradle my head in my hands. “I’ll be fine. Let’sgo.”
“You won’t be fine. Colm!” Loch ducks out of the foyer.
A different presence hovers over me.
On a deep breath, I stand to face Siobhán.
“He’s na trying to hurt you,” she promises.
“Eh, maybe a wee bit,” Finn adds with a grin.
Loch saunters back in and slams something into my stomach.
My vision goes starry. “Oh my god. I hate you,” I choke out.
“Eat this,” he orders.
A granola bar, a bag of almonds.
