Page 43 of Beautifully Conflicted

I squint with the effort of trying to search my mind. “Lucille?”

“Lucifer.”

“You nicknamed me after the devil?” I feel a sharp pang in my chest, and I don’t think it’s from the cold air. “I know we hate each other, but the devil?”

“First, I don’t hate you.”

“You rub every play you disrupt in my face.” I try to roll my eyes and nearly end up on my face again.

Damien adjusts his grip and keeps me upright. “I’m competitive.”

“Not the word I’d use.”

“What would you use?”

Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily. “I can’t think of it right now. But if you don’t hate me, why classify me as the devil?”

“It’s not a classification based on personality, it’s based on looks.”

“You’re saying I look like the devil?” I snort. “Red skin and horns?”

“In human form he’s described as dark and ominous, and you definitely have that going on. Plus, you’re hot.” He sticks his hand on my forehead. “Literally.”

I want to object to the dark and ominous thing, but given my coloring, and the way I’m usually glaring at him, I think he might have a point.

“Your turn,” he says as the school comes into view.

“My turn what?”

“To tell me something personal.”

“I don’t see how saying I look like the devil is personal.”

“It is when you consider I picture the devil as being sexy.”

Though this isn’t the first time Damien’s said he wants me, it’s the first time he’s used the word sexy, and for some reason that rings different than a simple crush.

Maybe it’s the obscene amount of pressure building in my head, but I find that…flattering.

“What’s your question?” I brace myself as I see Coach rushing toward us, no doubt freaking out about why we’re hobbling back early.

“Why do you really hate me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I’m not sure I get a single word out before Coach and two of his assistants swarm us, and I’m whisked away to the trainer for evaluation.

Damien

Because I want you.

Those four little words have been looping through my mind ever since Bennet spoke them, as if my brain is trying to ensure I can’t forget them.

I would never.

It’s possible Bennet might though. I’m not sure he’ll remember much of what he said once his fever started to kick in. And while his comments about wanting me were surprising, what he said in the locker room was downright shocking.

“You don’t have to help me.”

I sit him down on the bench while I dig in his locker for his normal shoes. I don’t trust myself to help him change anything but those knowing what I know now.

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