Page 42 of Beautifully Conflicted

I was appropriately pissy toward him when he came over to wait for Aiden the other day. Or inappropriately pissy depending on your point of view. And I’m fairly certain after implying that I couldn’t sit in the same room even Damien himself got the message we aren’t friends.

The fact I wasn’t trying to send that message is irrelevant. The important thing is that it’s clear I want nothing to do with him. And while that makes me feel like shit after he helped me with my game, I stand by it.

Still, it doesn’t help the unease creeping down my spine when I take my spot next to him for our run and he’s deathly silent.Don’t think about him. His silence is what you’ve wanted all along.

We start with a light jog, the only sound between us is our measured breathing. Even the air is still without a breeze to rustle the branches. That’s not uncommon right before a big snowstorm, and there’s one on its way.

I make a mental note to have the guys swing by the grocery on the way home from practice so we can stock up on a few essentials.Fucking Damien, making it so I can’t run in peace.

The cold air hurts as it enters my nose, making my lungs burn from exertion well before the midway point. That makes my legs feel sluggish, like I’m running with ankle weights strapped to them, which in turn makes it harder to keep pace with the man running next to me.

Not that I’ll ever admit it.

Instead, I try to go faster, if only to end this miserable run sooner, and end up nearly face planting when the trail seems to split in two.

“Whoa.” Damien’s face is suddenly inches from mine, his arms wrapped around my waist. “You okay?”

I try to shove him away and only manage to move him a few inches. “Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just the drop in air pressure before a storm. Gives me a headache.” I try to shove him again, nearly losing my balance in the process.

“Not buying it, Lucy. I think we need to get you back.” He slings my arm over his shoulder and turns us back toward the school.

“We don’t carry each other’s asses, remember?” I protest, but either he’s a lot stronger than I give him credit for, or I’m a lot weaker, because I can’t put any distance between us when I try to pull away.

Fucking humiliating.

“That’s your rule, not mine. And carrying is only one of things I’d like to—oops, forgot we aren’t supposed to talk about that.”

“Talk about what?”

“Your dick. Or your ass.”

For reasons I can’t explain my cock perks up like it’s been called on in class, which only adds to the throbbing in my head. The one on my shoulders.

“How much farther?” I ask.

“At least a mile. This happens a lot?” Damien asks as we walk.

It doesn’t, not to this extent, but I don’t have the energy to elaborate. Plus, I don’t want to since sharing might give him the impression I like him. And I don’t.

“Why do you call me Lucy?” I change the subject.

“Uh, uh. No way. I’m not answering that unless you agree to tell me something personal.”

“That stupid nickname is personal?”

“Yes, actually.” He steadies me as we go up a slight rise in the trail. “And it’s not stupid. It’s actually very appropriate.”

“It’s a girl’s name.”

“Only if you shorten it.”

Thinking hurts my brain, but I force myself to do it anyway. “The only thing shorter than Lucy is Lou. That’s a boy’s name.”

“Lucyisthe short version.” Damien corrects me.

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