Page 67 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

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It starts simply enough. Each of us trundles down to the breakfast room, one after the other, though naturally Rory is a no-show. Finlay, with his just-woken tousled hair, offers me soft, sleepy smiles from across the table. Luke, on the other hand, scowls at both of us and makes no attempt to hide it.

Breakfast is served. Armstrong is diligent, making sure I’m satisfied after the disaster of the previous day. As if to make up for my dearth of food yesterday, I’m given more than my stomach could ever handle, no matter how empty. An elongated rack of toast, plant-based spreads and fruit compote, plus what feels like an actualbucketof muesli. Armstrong bends over backward to ensure I’m happy. And I am happy. I’m more than happy.

Obviously this doesn’t last when the two chiefs in front of me are glaring daggers at each other.

“Whit? Whit’s boiled yer piss?” Finlay finally snaps, running a hand through his dark mussy hair. He looks pissed-off that Luke’s slowly draining his good mood.

“I saw you last night before I went for my bath,” Luke mutters, flicking an indignant glance between the two of us. “You did not make a particular secret of it, running and giggling through the woods like guilty children.”

Finlay rolls his eyes. “I do notgiggle.”

I bite my lip. I don’t remember giggling either, but last night had seemed to me a dreamy fantasy with no outsiders allowed. In the cold light of a new day, it feels like it’d been a magic secret shared between the three of us. It seems impossible that Luke could have heard us, could have infiltrated our world when the world had kept us so secluded.

But we can’t have been that secluded, because towering above us as we’d arrived at the manor had been Oscar Munro.

We weren’t careful. We were anything but. Three teenagers high on their own invincibility, on their own tightening bonds, together in a wide-open space. Finlay was right about one thing last night: wewerebeautiful.

Luke turns his dark gaze on me. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. Whatever you were doing, is it why you are blushing so much this morning?”

“Leave Jessa alone,” Finlay orders, and I shiver at the protectiveness in his tone. It’s not often he uses my name, but when he does, he always chooses the right moment. “If ye want tae pick a fight, pick it wi’ me. Or Rory. But leave her oot o’ this.”

Luke stirs a spoon around his cup several more times more than necessary. He purses his lips, and together we listen to the deliberate clink of metal against china. “Perhaps.”

A semblance of understanding finally dawns on me. “But you won’t pick a fight with Rory, will you?” I ask Luke.Cheerleaders. Rory surrounds himself with his personal squad of cheerleaders. “You like him too much to hassle him.”

“My relationship with Rory is precisely none of your concern,” Luke fires back at me, and it hurts. I see him shutting down, locking me out, and I get it. I deserve it. I’ve been playing all three of them off each other for too long that I’m not surprised distrust has managed to creep its way in.

Finlay shakes his head. “You have no right tae even talk tae us. Ye’re lucky Rory’s still prepared tae gie you the time o’ day.”

“Says the person hellbent on destroying my entire existence.”

I can’t stand this. Not after last night. Last night had been magical and the world had seemed at peace. Of course it had all been an illusion, because imagine the chiefs not clamoring for power within their own hierarchy. Imagine the chiefs not giving into their petty pride and male bickering.

Even so… fighting? At this time of day?

Finlay isn’t finished. I doubt he’s even started. Every irritation, annoyance and shred of anger he holds toward Luke is unleashed. “I dinnae even get why ye insist on talking so fuckin’ formal noo we all know ye’re a fraud. So posh, so clipped and melodic, and ye’re no’ even a blue-blood. At least noo we all know why ye talk like English is yer second language — tae act the part o’ the rich eejit prince.”

“Coming from you?” Luke snaps, dropping his teaspoon down with sharp aplomb. “You barely speak English at the best of times and the stench of new money from you is foul.”

“At least my familyhasmoney. Whit dae you have but a lifetime o’ lies?”

There’s silence for a moment as this sinks in. “Do not blame this on me. As if I would have chosen any of this.”

“No, ye’d rather have never been found oot while reaping the benefits, ye lyin’ wee prick.”

Luke leans forward in a gesture that seems altogether human compared to his permanently rigid stance. “Whatbenefits? You said it yourself — it’s all lies. My family has been under attack for years. What benefits have we received?”

“Are yejokin’?” Finlay asks with a sudden bark of laughter. “Free palaces. Free designer shite. Influence over the biggest names. Enough foreign holidays tae span the fuckin’ globe twenty-hundred times. An enjoyable discounted tax rate. Enrollment at Lochkelvin. Joining the chiefs.” He pauses, flicking a glance over at me. “Charming innocent girls wi’ yer classic pick-up line,Hi, you may have heard of me. Luke Milton? Son of Sophia Milton? I’m next in line for the throne, bitches.”

I don’t want to be dragged into this whatsoever, but at the same time… I don’t think it’s right to say I wouldn’t have succumbed to Luke had he been upfront about his family. Luke is attractive enough on his own merits without the whole royalty thing weighing him down. In fact, the royalty thing has only ever made me a nervous wreck around Luke.

Now at least he’s normal.

A very strange, twisted kind of normal, based on a lifetime of lies and deception, but still. Every family has skeletons, right?

“If ye’re serious about changing — well, you said ye wanted mairfun,” Finlay points out, gentler this time, as though he’s aired all his grievances and now wants to make amends. “I can help ye turn intae a real boy.” He nods over at me. “Besides, the sassenach needs tae be educated in oor ways, and that o’ leadership. Maybe we can kill two birds wi’ one stone. You teach her what ye’ve learned tae succeed wi’ the elite and she can help ye act a bit mair fuckin’ normal.”

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