Page 34 of Twisting Beauty

Even if they destroyed me in the process.

11

LORCAN

The abandoned Ravenwood tower had been ours for years, mine and my three best mates’, all crumbling stone and forgotten glory. Ivy crawled through cracks in the walls, nature slowly reclaiming it.

The room we used in the middle of the tower still held our smoke and laughter from too many afternoons spent hiding above the rest of the school.

Old rugs had been thrown over the worst of the icy stone, and a sagging couch faced an armchair that had become mine by unspoken agreement. Empty bottles, crisp packets, and matchbooks littered the side table, while the leather punching bag in the corner swayed faintly in the draft.

I sat in the tufted armchair by the arched window, the king seat, Rafe called it when he thought I wasn’t listening.

The main courtyard spread below in a sprawl of pavement stones and clipped grass. From this height the students looked small and repetitive, drifting between buildings like ants. Ravenwood liked to pretend it made men unpredictable, but most people walked exactly where they were trained to.

I took a small toke of the joint that was making the rounds, then passed it on to Breezy, flat on his back on the thick Persian rug, nursing his ribs and groaning like he was dying.

“Didn’t know we were letting geriatrics on the pitch now,” Rafe said around a mouthful of cheese and onion crisps, the bag torn open between him and Finn on the couch.

“I’m conserving energy, lads.” Breezy’s voice was muffled by the smoke billowing out his mouth.

“The rookies outran you during drills,” Rafe shot back as he took the joint off Breezy.

Our new hurling coach was a culchie bastard who believed pain built character. Practice earlier had apparently been brutal. I’d made an excuse just to give my back a chance to recover.

Breezy groaned and covered his face with both hands. “It’s my dick, alright? I haven’t been laid in…” He started counting on his fingers, brows furrowed in genuine concentration. “Three weeks, four days, seven hours and”—he checked his watch—“fifty-nine minutes.”

Rafe snorted, nearly choking on his crisps. “That’s specific, you creep. You keeping a fucking diary?”

“No.” Breezy’s delivery was deadpan perfection. “I log it on my Fitbit.”

“Dickbit.” Rafe chuckled, and even I cracked up at that.

“My dick’s important to me,” Breezy said with wounded dignity.

I shook my head. “You’re disturbed.”

Rafe frowned, leaning forward. “Wait—why haven’t you been laid in three weeks?”

Breezy groaned louder, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s this lass. Shite. She’s making me…” He trailed off, suddenly bashful.

Rafe pounced like a predator scenting weakness. “Making you what? Wear a cockring?”

“Shave your balls to a heart shape?” I added, genuinely curious now.

Finn’s eyes lit up. “Wait—I got it. She’s got your bollocks on a leash. Walks you every morning before school?”

“No…” Breezy’s voice cracked with exasperation. “She’s making me wait.”

That earned him a collective groan.

“Jaysus. Celibacy by coercion. Tragic.” Rafe shook his head mournfully.

“Your poor balls,” Finn said with mock solemnity. “They didn’t sign up for this, lad.”

I studied Breezy’s face, noting the flush creeping up his neck. “Can’t decide if that’s romantic or pathetic.”

“It’s a slow burn romance!” Breezy protested. “She said we’re building tension.”