Page 43 of Leashed

Chapter Seventeen

Bo leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms behind his head. “And I’m telling you I have it on good authority destiny is bullshit and fate is altered on a whim, which essentially erases its intended purpose.”

Sage rolled her eyes at him. “Your ‘good authority’ is out of whack with almost every scholar out there, then.” She drew her legs up under herself, her nose wrinkling as she adjusted her clothes. “Is this the same ‘good authority’ who told you Cerberus was poisoned by Hercules? Because I’ve read thirty interpretations of that painting, and not once was sago mentioned.”

He froze.

What the hell.

Six people knew Hercules had used sago. One was the asshole himself. Seph and Hades had figured it out pretty damn fast when the remaining three in the know were puking up bile into the Styx.

“I almost forgot, I ran into your friend today. She’s, um…”

Rubbing his shoulder, he exhaled. “Awesome. And what did she have to say?”

She tugged at the hem of her shirt for a moment. “I don’t think she approves of us hanging out. I think she thinks I’m leading you on.”

Knowing Clotho’s cryptic speak bullshit, he glared at the TV. “What were her exact words?”

“We’re not friends because she didn’t deem it so.” Giving him a nervous smile, she shrugged. “It’s not bad to have someone watching your back.”

He merely grunted in response as he stood and walked out of the room, calling to Sage over his shoulder. “If that outfit’s so damn uncomfortable, why wear it? Get over here.”

Whatever Clotho’s issue was, he’d deal with it later. She’d seemed just fine with him hanging out with Sage for the past few weeks. Encouraged it, even.

He opened his bedroom door, nudging a path to his dresser with his foot and checking the bottom drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he joined her in the hall and handed her a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. “Your constant fidgeting is annoying.”

She bit her lip for a second but took the clothes, disappearing into the bathroom. “So are you going to name your sources or are you just teasing me?” she yelled through the door.

“Let me read your paper, and I’ll tell you where you’re wrong,” he countered.

“Swing by the library after six on Wednesday and I will.”

The knob turned and she emerged, decked out in his clothes. As she slipped past him to the kitchen, her own outfit neatly folded in her arms, he narrowed his eyes.

Seeing her in a shirt emblazoned with skulls and images of death didn’t sit well with him.

She was too…good…for that.

He glanced toward Ryan’s room where two inoffensive shirts still hung in the closet, dropping the idea when she popped her head around the corner, coffee cup in hand. “Coming?”

*

Sage refilled hermug and walked back into the living room. “Okay,” she said, getting comfortable again. “You can un-pause it.”

Bo tapped the remote and stretched his arms back across the sofa. “You don’t seriously watch every episode of this, do you? There’s nothing believable about any part of it.”

“Nothing wrong with suspending disbelief,” she muttered, eyes locked on the TV. “Or using our library voices while others are enjoying a show.”

She could see he fighting to hold back a retort as he exhaled loudly and laid his head back. When he straightened up and leaned closer to her, she knew his tongue-biting was over.

“Spit it out,” she sighed, resigning herself to watching the episode at home another night while he continued his rant about inaccuracies in fantasy worlds.

“Does he know you’re here?”

Returning her attention to the television, she nodded. “If you mean Nixon, yes. I texted him when I pulled up.”

“And he’s fine with it?”

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