Page 45 of Flash

“Holy fuck, you guys are way better at this prank thing than I am.” A high, manic giggle bursts from my lips and I drag both hands through my hair. “I’m fucking hiring drag queens to roast you, meanwhile you’re some double agent seducing me so you can, what? Describe my O face to your friends and all laugh about it? Trick me into falling for you so you can dump me in front of them? This is so fucked up.”

“Lewis, I di—”

I put a hand up and shake my head rapidly. “I seriously can’t do this right now. I need a Xanax… or a fucking time machine.”

Before he can say another word, I dart past him, back into my lovely, peaceful little flower shop where I’m not the butt of any cruel jokes, and slam the door behind me.

ARROW

“Fuck,” I roar, spinning and driving my already injured fist into the dumpster before my common sense has a chance to tell me what a horrible idea that is. The sound of the impact resounds through the alley and pain sears through my hand, all the way up my arm.

It’s a grounding feeling, a hell of a lot better than the emotions raging inside of me. Lewis is the flower shop twink? And he thinks I knew. He thinks I knew and that I fucked him as a prank?

I drag in shallow breaths, trying to get myself under control. This is fucking Jag’s fault. I clench my teeth so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if I crack a molar. Gregory is right on my heels as I storm back inside. The shop is packed with people eager to take advantage of the flash ink we’re offering on special today while their kids are entertained by the animals outside.

“Hey, are you okay?” Piston calls after me as I shoulder through the crowd, not really seeing anyone.

I don’t stop until I reach Jag. He’s busy dancing in the parking lot, acting like a carnival barker in a neon orange crop top and a pair of tight, artfully ripped black jeans.

“Yo, Arrow, what’s—”

I grab him by the front of his shirt and shove him against a car.

“This stupid prank war is over,” I growl.

For once, he doesn’t have a cheeky, sarcastic retort. In my rational mind, I know that the hundred pounds I have on him means fuck all. Jag could kick my ass without breaking a sweat. But the helpless rage boiling inside me must be written all over my face, because he just holds his hands up in surrender.

“Dude, it was just for fun. Fucking relax.”

“He doesn’t think it’s fun.” I tighten my grip on Jag’s shirt. “He thinks we’re all fucking laughing behind his back. He thinks I’m some kind of asshole who’s only sleeping with him to humiliate him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He cocks his head.

A firm hand clamps down on my shoulder and a little bit of clarity slips in. I take a deep breath and let go of his shirt, then turn my head to see Piston standing there, his eyebrows raised, a concerned look etched onto his face.

“Want to take a walk and talk about it?” he says.

The conversation we had in the back room surges to the front of my mind.

“You knew.”

His stoic expression doesn’t so much as twitch.

“I had a strong suspicion, but I wasn’t sure,” he says, squeezing my shoulder a little tighter.

I shrug him off. “Well, a heads up would have been fucking nice.”

I shove past him, bumping my shoulder against his. I whistle for Gregory, strap him back into the harness, and then climb onto my bike.

I need to clear my head. Then, I need to figure out how to make things right and prove to Lewis that he was never a joke to me, that everything I said to him last night was real.

Chapter 15

LEWIS

“Lew—” Rowan’s voice cuts through the sound of blood rushing in my ears, but just barely. I drag in another uneven breath and exhale with a sound that I hate to admit is pathetically close to a sob. “What the hell happened?”

Hearing his normally calm, measured voice turn savage with a protective growl has a tight laugh bursting from my lips, but that sounds like a sob too if I’m being honest. This is far from the first time my best friend has caught me with my head between my legs, mid panic attack, but this is the inaugural panic attack for this new store location. Feels like a significant moment. Maybe I should mark it on the calendar so we can celebrate it yearly.

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