Page 22 of Beautifully Conflicted

“Cats are weird.”

“So?”

“So, people who have them must be weird too. Maybe not homicidal weird, but you did just threaten to kill me, so…”

“You’re sayingI’mweird.Me?” Bennet’s jaw hangs open.

“Are you saying it’s not weird to accuse your roommates of marking their territory like dogs?”

“You don’t live with them,” he mutters.

“Why do you if they bug you so much?” I tug my beanie off and wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist, which earns me an eyeroll.

“Are you going to do this every time we run?” Bennet asks.

“Do what?”

“Wear that damn hat that makes you overheat.”

“My ears get cold easy. I can’t exercise when my ears are cold.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He snorts. “Ears have nothing to do with exercise. They just sit immobile on your head.”

I shake my head vigorously. “Ears have everything to do with exercise. When they’re frozen, they give you a wicked headache, and that can mess with your balance, your vision, all sorts of stuff.”

“But when you work out you produce heat that has to escape your body, and if you’re wearing a hat it has nowhere to go.”

“That’s why I just took it off.”

“You’re missing the point.” His eyes flash with annoyance. “If you’re overdressed you can overheat. But if your ears are so sensitive you have to risk heat stroke in the middle of winter, go ahead and wear the hat. Just don’t expect me to carry your ass back. I didn’t sign up for that.”

“You wouldn’t be happy to see me get heatstroke?”

“Iwould, but Coach wouldn’t, and he’d have my ass.”

“Why would your ass be on the line for my heatstroke?”

“You’re the new guy. I’m not, and I’m your workout partner.”

I admit Bennet probably knows Coach better than I do at this point, but Coach doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d blame someone for something they have no control over. That doesn’t make any sense, unless… “You don’t like my beanie. You think it looks stupid and you don’t want to be seen next to me.”

“Why would I give a shit if you look stupid?”

“Guilt by association.”

“Do you even think before you speak? No one is going to think I look stupid just because I’m standing next to you.”

He’s not wrong… I’m notoriously bad at saying the first thing that comes to mind, but it doesn’t keep his comment from striking a nerve. Especially, hearing it come from the person I want to impress.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to respond how I normally would to that, aka baiting him, but then the rest of his comment registers.

“No one is going to think I look stupid just because I’m standing next to you…”

Does that mean he doesn’t think I look stupid? And if he doesn’t think I look stupid, does that mean he thinks I look… good?

The way that thought makes my stomach flutter is so unexpected, I catch my toe on the ground, and nearly end up face down in the dirt. It’s only because I’ve got years of practice changing direction on a dime—plus a strong core—that I stay upright.

“Fuck, tell me you’re not stroking out right now.”

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