Page 65 of Flagrant Foul
I replayed, “Morning. Want some coffee?” for at least twenty minutes, looking for some hidden meaning in his words.
He’s been so sweet and supportive and kind, my head feels like it’s going to explode.
He’s sitting two rows ahead of me, talking to Lockie, and I’ve lost my ability to soft focus completely. I literally can’t do it anymore. I have no idea how I used to do it.When I try now, Teddy comes more into focus instead of going out of it.
Teddy has the window seat, Lockie the aisle. He’s sitting so close to Teddy, and being such a whipped piece of shit that I’m actually embarrassed for him. He’s making a massive fool of himself. Any asshole can see that. He’s completely engrossed in what Teddy is saying. Hanging on every word. I can’t blame him there, but he keeps leaning in close when Teddy talks, under the guise of finding it hard to hear over the din on the bus, and it’s pissing me off.
It’s not that loud, asshole!
I can hear pretty much every word you’re saying from here.
Lockie’s face is in profile, lips less than a quarter of an inch from Teddy’s ear. “Why does he keep looking at you like that?” he whispers with the glee of a gossipy schoolgirl.
Teddy shrugs and shifts in his seat. “It’s complicated.”
Complicated?Complicated? No, it’s not complicated. I want you, and you want me. It’s not fucking complicated. It’s very, very simple.
I miss the first bit of Lockie’s next sentence, but I get the end of it loud and clear. A deep dimple dips inLockie’s cheek as he leans inridiculouslyclose to Teddy. “Want to make him jealous?”
My entire body goes hot. My vision goes hazy, fading until Teddy is the only thing I can see. He has his head turned slightly toward Lockie. He’s looking down, lashes splashing soft shadows over his cheeks.
My heart thumps in rage.
My blood pressure spikes.
I feel my pulse in my fists.
He’s going to do it. I know it. Teddy knows what I’m like. He knows I’m jealous. He’s looked me in the eye many times in the past and flirted with guys in front of me. He knows I hate it. He knows it upsets me.
I want to scream for the bus to stop, for everyone who isn’t Teddy to get the fuck off.
I can’t fucking take this. I need to get off this fucking bus right the fuck now.
I watch, heart in my throat as Teddy replies. His head moves first, shaking gently from side to side, then his lips move. Their movement is clear and decisive, gentle but firm. “No, I don’t want to make him jealous.”
I drop my head back against the headrest in defeat.
Shit.
That’s worse. It’s worse than him making me jealous.
I’m cooked. I’m completely and utterly cooked. He’s not going to start being angry or spiteful anytime soon, is he?
35
Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly
Theelevatordoorsclose,sealing quiet strains of scratchy jazz into the metal cube with us. There’s a brief pause, a slight jolt, and then the elevator begins hurtling up. Two players got out at the last floor, so I put my bag down and take a step away from Lockie to make better use of the space that’s available to us now.
There are three of us in the elevator. Me, Lockie, and Sev.
Sev is standing behind us. Silent, but taking up more space than he should because his mood is pitch black, simmering, and causing the air to crackle with tension.
It’s hard to stop myself from falling into familiar patterns: analyzing the minutiae of his behavior, dissecting his micro expressions and making them all about me.
I do my best not to. I look straight ahead and try to think of nothing at all. Sev is his own person. He’s allowed to experience a full range of emotions. It has nothing to do with me.
Lockie turns to me, putting a hand on the small of my back. “Dunno about you, but I could use a drink. Want to come to my room and hit the minibar once you’ve settled in?”
