Page 39 of A Game of Ruck
The same way you describe a clearance rack sweater or a dog you’re not adopting.
I know quality and my girl dresses well.
She was born a tech heiress, for fuck’s sake.Her gown is tailored and fits like a glove, rivaling any of theirs.
She is stunning as fuck.
I lean in and press a kiss to Annabeth’s temple, my hand wrapping around the back of her neck like it belongs there.
My thumb strokes the soft skin just under her ear—possessive—right where I know they can see.
Petty?Maybe.
Satisfying?Abso-fucking-lutely.
I do it partly just to watch the Botox crack across their expressions—but mostly because I can’t stop touching her.
Not when I’ve got her this close.
Not when she looks like sin in that green dress, all curves and confidence and everything they’ll never be.
“Oh wow,” one of them—Jasmine, maybe—blinks at me like I just stepped off the cover ofGQ.
Then she looks at the two of us and she can’t even hide her surprise.“Youtwo look really great together.Like your auras match.”
At least she isn’t being nasty.Just clueless.
“Auras?Please tell me you’re joking, Jas.I mean, are we supposed to believe that like,” Lisa’s voice cuts in, tight and syrupy, “this isn’t just, like, a joke or something?Tell the truth Luca, Annabeth didn’tmakeyou come here with her?You want us to think you’re reallywithher?”
Her tone drips with disbelief and disdain.
Like she’s trying to pull back the curtain and reveal that of course this is all an act, that Annabeth—my Annabeth—could never land someone like me.
Annabeth opens her mouth, probably about to awkward-laugh her way out of the moment, but I step in before she can.
I’m done playing nice.
“You know,” I say, letting my voice carry just enough to cut through the fake laughter and pastel polyester, “it never fails to amaze me how easily cruelty rolls off the tongue when it’s dressed up as concern or how easily some people can disguise insults as compliments.”
Lisa’s fake smile flickers.
“Not that we owe any of you an explanation, but yeah—Annabeth and I are together.Very much so.And if you actually knew her, you’d understand why I’m head over fucking heels.”
“Luca,” Annabeth whispers, and I squeeze her neck gently, letting her know I got this.
Lisa’s mouth opens like she’s about to argue, so I turn my full attention on her.
“Of course, I know her.I care about her.She’s my cousin,” Lisa says tightly, as if that proves something.
“Exactly,” I say, taking a step forward, my hand still snug around Annabeth, needing that contact to ground me.“So tell me, Lisa.If you know her so well—if you care about her like you said you do,why isn’t she a bridesmaid?”
Silence.
Just the sound of brittle egos snapping like cheap acrylic nails.
I don’t look away.
Not once.
