Page 55 of Twisting Beauty

For a split second, Alistair’s cane cracked across my back, the sound echoing in his study. My vision dimmed for a heartbeat, the world going underwater, muffled and strange, the lads’ voices fading to a distant hum.

Get it together, Lasair. I forced air through my nose and shook my head hard. “I’m grand.”

Finn put his tape aside and frowned. “You hurt?”

I lifted my hands into loose fists by my head, making a show of throwing a couple of fake punches. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

Rafe and Breezy laughed.

“Go on. Whatcha do?” Rafe asked.

Breezy nudged him. “Betcha he went after Eli.”

The two boys made oooh noises.

The reminder of Elias cornering her against the wall sent a lash of rage through me. I shoved it aside.

“Nah.” The lie rolled off my tongue smooth as whiskey. “Some girl was making eyes at me last night. Lifted her skirt and everything. What was I meant to do, say no?” I shrugged, letting my mouth curve into that smirk that always worked. “Her boyfriend didn’t appreciate my thoughtfulness.”

Breezy and Rafe ate it up, howling like hyenas.

“Bet the boyfriend wasn’t the only one screaming last night,” Breezy said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Jesus, you’re vile.” Rafe laughed. “He’s not wrong, though.”

Finn didn’t laugh. Just watched me with those sharp eyes of his, seeing right through the bullshite. He knew. Maybe not the details, but he knew enough.

I’d caught him noticing things. The way I flinched at slammed doors, how I sometimes moved with stiffness even during the offseason, how I never used the college showers. But he never said a word. He just stayed close.

“I swear,” Rafe said, stealing a chewy lolly from Breezy’s post-workout stash, “you’re going to end up with someone’s pissed-off boyfriend knifing you behind the gym.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill you over a girl,” Breezy said, holding his lolly bag away from Rafe like treasure. “Wasn’t that French exchange crying in the chapel for a week last year?”

Finn grabbed a Gummi bear from Breezy’s other side. “Right, then her fiancé flies here from France to challenge you to a duel. An actual fucking duel.”

I shrugged. “She should’ve come with a warning label,” I said, biting down on a long jelly snake.

“They do…” Rafe grinned. “What’s the golden rule, lads?”

“Don’t stick your dick in crazy!” the chorus came from half the team, voices carrying across the field and nearby courtyard.

Rafe nodded toward the grass courtyard where Aoife and her friends were performing some choreographed dance for a phone camera on a tripod. “Jury’s out on whether yer wan is a full-blown stage five clinger or just nuts.”

Aoife caught us looking and lifted a manicured hand in a bright little wave while the two girls beside her dissolved into giggles.

My stomach curdled.

“I’m not fucking Aoife,” I said, voice flat.

“Anymore,” Rafe added with a smirk.

“Oooooh,” Finn whistled.

Breezy clapped me on the shoulder. “Poor girl never stood a chance against the Lorcanator… blowing through hot chicks like T-800s.”

“Lorcan ‘the Hunger Games’ Lasair,” Finn called out like a bad wrestling announcer. “They all volunteer as tribute, but none of them survive.”

“Who ya gonna booty call?” Rafe sang out the familiar 90s classic movie theme song. “Lorcan, Pussy-Buster.”