Page 78 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

Danny doesn’t have time to accept or decline this, because Finlay quickly hightails it. He frowns deeply, tugging at the hem of his tee, and mutters, “What was that for?”

I shrug, plastering on an innocent expression. “You tell me. You’re the ones dancing around each other like the other has cooties. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I don’t even know what cooties are, but no,” Danny grumbles, and he rolls onto his side. I join him in bed, bouncing onto the mattress with a laugh, so delighted that he’s back in my life again. I hug him from behind, at peace.

God, boys are so stupid.

Adorable, but mainly stupid.

* * *

At some point I fall asleep, my arms wrapped around Danny’s waist. He’s so warm and snuggly, it takes a while for me to wake, but when I do, I note a pair of gray eyes inspecting me in distaste.

“We have food,” Rory announces with a sneer, his eyes dragging down Danny’s body, fixating on the space where my hands hold him close to me. “When you’re quite ready, please bring yourself up to the rooftop. Your companion is optional and frankly unrequired.”

As Rory leaves, I make a small noise of protest, wondering why everyone can’t just get along. But yeah, boys are stupid. Especially ones who think they rule the world, the ones with dark-blond hair and serious silver eyes and a permanent pouting mouth.

“I guess that was our wake-up call from the esteemed emperor,” Danny grumbles, burrowing his head into the plush pillows. I hold back a sigh. Danny’s presence has really upset the delicate balance of our group. We’d almost been happy together… almost. It’s a wonder why Luke doesn’t start throwing rocks at Danny, just to complete the set, but I guess he thankfully has more class than that.

Together, Danny and I stagger upright and make our way to the top of the building. By the end of the third level, it feels like Rory chose the roof space for malicious purposes. My knees are halfway to buckling and, beside me, Danny lets out a low, asthmatic wheeze that he whips out his inhaler for.

“He wants to kill me,” Danny mutters, taking a deep, gasping breath and clinging to the banister. “I swear he wants me dead.”

“He doesn’t,” I say, even though I’m not half as certain as I should be.

Eventually, we run out of steep stairs to climb. Frosted glass doors appear in front of us, and somehow I muster the energy to slide them open, groaning with irritation about how goddamn evil Rory is.

And yet somehow it’s all worth it.

In the end, every shred of effort is worth it.

Because the scene that greets us… floors us.

It’s spectacular.

All of Edinburgh stands before us. The golden hour shines upon every ancient building, filtering dark sunlight against each age-old facade. We stand taller than everyone in the city, so tall it feels like we rule the world. My soul connects automatically with everything I see: it slots neatly into this city, my heart floating between the myriad chimney-stacks along the skyline. As I gaze out at the iron-gray castle, at the cluster of curving hills beyond, I wonder if this truly is my queendom.

Danny and I stand together dumbly, drinking in the view.

And it’s not just the outside that’s magnificent. Even the rooftop terrace itself is beautiful, bedecked with twinkling fairy lights that wind around the balcony, and multiple cushioned seating areas separated by different colors. A large wooden table runs through the middle of the terrace, onto which the chiefs organize a never-ending array of containers.

“Well?” Rory asks, cocking a brow. “Are you joining us?”

“How much food did you get?” I ask, stunned, as I approach the table. Overhead, the sun grows shaded with night-time depth, and the whole of Edinburgh glows with secret magic. I take a seat next to Luke, Danny on my other side, all of us surrounded by different boxes of food and twinkling wine glasses.

“Fun,” Finlay says, tapping the side of his head and peeling open a nearby container. A mouthwatering blend of spices permeates the air and with sudden sharpness, my stomach growls. All I want is food in my belly.

“Fun,” Luke repeats with deep skepticism, his hands gingerly opening a container of his own. “Of course my idea of fun is being presented with several unpronounceable dishes of South Asian origin without the assistance of my official taste-tester. Unfortunately for you, I am not entirely deluded. Frankly, I am of the opinion you are choosing to do whatever you want under the guise of rehabilitating my supposedly lacking sense of fun.”

Finlay rolls his eyes. “Next time, just say something short, like, ‘I’m ontae ye.’”

“I’m onto you,” Luke repeats flatly.

Rory shakes his head, pouring out a glass of wine. “We’re free. Free from the manor, free from school. We can do whatever the hell we want, eat what we want, drink what we want. We don’t have stupid people trying to stop us.” He pauses, casting a poisonous glance at Danny. “Well, not as many as before. Let’s enjoy the summer ahead, okay?” he adds, and he lifts his glass to the group.

I raise my empty glass to Rory’s, clinking it brightly, and the others follow suit. I grab the bottle of wine because fuck it, why not? This summer already feels endless, one of those magical summers older people grow nostalgic for, and I find I don’t mind if it involves the heat of summer sunshine and being surrounded by the boys around me.

“To the chiefs,” Luke says with a clink of his glass, and Danny frowns.

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