Page 14 of Beautifully Conflicted

“You literally just implied you’re being set up to lose since they’re paired together.”

“Having a problem with them getting an advantage is different than having a problem withthem. And you said they don’t have an advantage so… I’m good.” He doesn’t even make it ten paces before those lips start flapping again. “Can they really not pee alone?”

“You get the difference between literally and figuratively, right? They’re codependent and stupidly in love.”

“LikeShaun of the Dead.”

“What?”

“Have you seen it? One of the best friends gets turned into a zombie but the other can’t kill him so he keeps him as a pet.”

“You can’t have a zombie as a pet.”I need to stop encouraging him. I don’t even want to be in this conversation so why can’t I stop talking? I must need to have the last word. That’s the only explanation.

“Shaun would disagree. As long as his friend can’t get out of his chains, it’s perfectly safe. They have video game play dates.” Damien tugs his beanie off and wipes his brow with the back of his arm, though the lingering moisture on his forehead still glistens in the afternoon sun.

Stupid fucker, wearing a knit hat to work out. Now I have squint so the light reflecting off his shiny face doesn’t blind me.

“Whatever. Zombies aren’t real so this whole conversation is moot.”

“The conversation is about co-dependent boyfriends, Lucy, not zombies.”

My jaw is locked so tight I swear I’m gonna crack a tooth. “Then why the fuck did you bring up zombies?”

“I brought up a happy ending between two codependent friends, one of which happens to be a zombie. You’re the one who fixated on the whole undead thing.”

I’m so incensed, I nearly trip over a slight bump in the path. “So, you’re an expert on ghostsandzombies? Your mom should be so proud.”

“No one’s a zombie expert.” He acts like I didn’t just insult him. “They aren’t real.”

“That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Only because you don’t listen to me.” He doesn’t skip a step, jogging along without even breathing hard, which I’m starting to do since he’s got my heart rate bordering on crazed.

“Say something intelligent and I’ll listen.”

“Your knee isn’t over your toe when you line up, so you lose valuable time off the line since your weightdistribution is off.”

I’ve spent years perfecting my stance, and my coaches haven’t had me make any corrections in over two seasons. No way he’s spotted something they haven’t. “I… You’re just trying to get in my head.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To mess up my game.”

“We’re on the same team now. I don’t want your game messed up.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, actually. I’d like to have a good season, which means I want you to play your best.”

I cast him a sidelong glance, noticing the rosy flush in his cheeks, which I’m guessing is from anger rather than exertion since it wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

Fuck that. He’s the one trying to screw with me, he doesn’t get to be angry.

“Bullshit. How I play has no impact on you.”

“It has an impact on the team, and I want to win.”

He’s saying the right stuff, but Damien’s always been mouthy, so that doesn’t mean shit. It’s probably just another way to boost his ego, pretending to take the high road.

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