Page 126 of The Stud

“Yet the soc’ reportsstillsay otherwise,” Becks announces prompting me to pause taking another bite of my wing.

“How would you know?” Pokes my boyfriend. “They limit your access to outside influences.” Putting the cap back on his coconut water occurs next. “I damn near had to meet with the bloody treatment commissioner of Texas just to get a meal through customs.”

“Not a thing,” I teasingly murmur.

“They limit our access but that doesn’t mean I limit my listening.” Becks cockily winks. “And broadskies in here know your face. And mine.” Shame sinks into his worn complexion, forcing him to hide it by shoveling more food into his mouth. “Been to some of the same parties. Bars. Boats.” He lets his gaze glance out into the gray distance for a moment. “Suffer from the same disappointments. Identity fails…” Becks forces himself to swallow the contents of his mouth and shake off the haunting thoughts before meeting our gazes again. “Anyway, they always find a way to get their Long Island, so I hear shit.”

Confusion crinkles Tanner’s brows. “Long Island?”

“Tea,” the two of us retort in tandem to which he amusedly nods.

“And word isyouenjoyed a lot of Canadian Ballets while you were up northskies.”

“I went toone,” Tanner defensively sneers.

“Reports are saying four.”

“I went tooneand only one.”

“Why’d you go at all?” Becks casually interrogates.

“Because Paynewasbeing a painin the arse about it.”

“The one that gave him a lappy had a Snoop tattoo above her ass,” I mirthfully inform.

“Snoopy or Snoop Dog?”

“Snoop Dog,” my other half proclaims.

“Said ‘Doggystyle’ with the little cartoon dog that was on the album cover.”

Becks chortles in disbelief and grabs another wing from the container. “Were you there?”

I toss the finished bone onto my plate and give him the finger motion for “no” in sign language.

“That means no,” Tanner explains, “but I told her all about it when we got in that night. And not to believe a word about it that she was likely to read over the next couple of days.”

New curiosity cloaks his face. “That shit didn’t bother you, aye?”

“The rumors? Nah. Khurana pops off about a new one like every other day, I fucking swear.”

“The other thing.”

“Him gettin’ a lappy at the ballet on a broskie roadskie?” There’s no stopping my eyes from rolling. “Not even a little.”

Additional surprise lowers his jaw. “Really?”

“Really.” Grabbing a wet wipe is accompanied by a small shrug. “I knew where he was. I knew who he was with. I knew why he went. And at the end of the night, it was me getting ahand necklace in the shower while screaming his name, so what did it really matter?”

“Bloodyhell, Ducky, did you need to carve him a fucking picture?”

“It’s not like I told him about-”

“Do not eventhinkabout finishing that sentence.”

Smug snickers precede me shifting my stare back to a laughing Becks. “Point being, I’m nottypicallyworried about whatever rumors are going around or showing up in DMs. I’m his Slayer, and he knows it.”

“And if it wouldn’t cost her her bloody job or me a fucking trade, I wouldshowit.”

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