Page 9 of Beautifully Conflicted

“I thought you were the expert Mr.They’re bound to the location of their death.” I mimic his stupid voice.

“Not an expert, I just know the common sense stuff.”

“So, I don’t have any common sense?” My voice takes on a curt edge.

“That’s not what he said.” Aiden tries to diffuse my growing anger.

“Commonghostsense,” Damien clarifies unhelpfully.

“Commonghostsense? Do you hear yourself right now? Do you ever say anything that isn’t complete bullshit?” I glare at him.

“How is common ghost sense not a thing?” Damien has the gall to look confused.

“How can it be common if no one’s ever seen them?”

“I didn’t say no one has, I saidIhaven’t.”

Smart ass has an answer for everything.

“So, you’re just pretending to be an expert on shit you know nothing about?” I press.

“You said expert, not me,” Damien scoffs.

“Because you’re acting like one.”

“If common sense makes me an expert, then I guess I am.” Damien concludes, so innocently I have to squeeze my jaw to the point it’s ready to crack just so I don’t blow.

I’m vaguely aware of Liam studying me curiously while Cam and Jagger whisper behind my back, asking each other if they know what our argument is about, and at this point, I don’t know myself. I just can’t let Damien win it.

“Fuck, you’re impossible,” I shout.

“Impossible to beat at Madden?” Damien muses like we aren’t in the middle of an argument. “That’s probably true. I had the high score on my old team.”

“Yeah, well your old team sucks on the field, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they suck off it too.”

“Hey, that’s—”

Damien’s eyes flash with rage as he cuts Aiden off. “They might not have beat the Bighorns, but I seem to remember being on top of you a lot. Tell me, how does turf taste?”

My body vibrates with the urge to take a swing. Yeah, I hit low first, but he’s been taking subtle little shots since he walked through the door, and I can only handle his stupid mouth for so long. Fuck him for ruining my Sunday.

“If you’re so good, why switch to this team? Maybe you didn’t want to face me on the field again.”

“I figure I’ll have to face you more, actually. Every day at practice.”

The fucker winks at me, and I clench my fists as I shoot off the couch. “Why wait for practice?”

Damien pops up to face me, so Cam dumps Jagger off his lap and the two of them jump between us. “Chill out,” Jagger says. “Coach will bench you both if you get into it off the field.”

“We’re on the same team now, guys,” Cam adds. “You don’t have to be friends, but you aren’t rivals anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Cam.” I glare at Damien before stomping off with a final parting shot. “We’ll always be rivals.”

Damien

The lecture hall is smaller than I expected, I’d guess about fifty seats total, all in a half-moon circle around the podium that has several chalkboards behind it, and a screen that comes down from the ceiling.

I’ve got five minutes until class starts, so I grab a seat in the back and pull out my phone to catch up on some news. I learned as a kid that staying informed about current events was a great way to avoid looking like an idiot in class, which is even more true in college, so while I don’t watch every day, I do check in here and there when I’ve got a spare moment.

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