Page 78 of Filthy and the Beast

I try to tug my jeans down without being obvious.

Want his friends to like me, too, which feels like some immature shit. I don’t give a flying fuck what people think about me. Can’t afford to.

Right now, though, I do care. I care a lot.

Wonder what they know about my past. If some of them have already made up their minds about me.

Pushing the doubts aside for now, I swig from my beer. “Australian Open coming up, right?” I ask Everett. Tennis isn’t my sport, but because of Reggie, I’ve followed Everett’s career. “You must be training hard.”

“Always training for something,” he says with a rough laugh. “You know.”

I grunt. I’m not sure how to talk about my career with these two, but having another pro relate to me is nice. Been a long time.

“Helps to have a trainer like this guy around.” I nod to Reggie, and the big guy grins.

“Yeah, I keep him fit.” Reggie messes up his husband’s curly hair. Everett pulls him in for a kiss before laughing and pushing him away again.

Nice to be around affectionate men. Didn’t realize it would feel that way. Thinking about how fucked up it is, that seeing affection like this is so rare, I start scowling to myself.

Damian steps right beside me. I want to touch him, and the way he’s leaning in, I swear I feel him wanting to touch me, too. But I don’t think we do that around other people. At least I’m not sure, so I try not to think about my pants instead.

Realize I’m still scowling and fix my face.

“Games are about to resume,” Damian says. “You gentleman going to keep playing poker or join us for something new?”

“The bird game.” All three of them look at me, so I clarify. “I like the bird game.”

“Hey, me too,” Reggie says.

Everett pushes his hand through his hair. “I’m beating Shadow at Terraforming Mars, or I’m going to fucking lose my mind,” he grumbles as he walks into the dining room, his husband following.

Damian bumps his hip against me quickly and steps away. “Hi. Having fun?”

I smile at him. I can tell he’s having a great time because he’s acting fucking cute.

“Yeah. You’ve got good friends.”

He nods. “I do. And they’re enjoying you and your house very much.”

“Good.”

Hearing that is satisfying.

Nice of him to check on me, too.

Just wish my pulse would slow down. And that my small talk didn’t come out so forced. On Nat's suggestion, I made a list of things to talk about with everyone, but I’ve already burned through it.

I sit down with Reggie, Fox, and Owen to play the bird game. I can play poker on autopilot, and sitting silently counts as a strategy. It eased me into the night. About halfway through, I realized that was probably Damian’s intent.

Sitting at the bird game, though, my brain immediately overheats as I try to remember all the rules.

Need to get more eggs this time.

Mostly, just need to avoid embarrassing myself and Damian.

Although Damian’s playing the other game, he thankfully sits beside me. “Try not to get so obsessed with predator birds,” he mumbles quickly and hands me a dog cupcake. “They’re no good for points.”

“I like the predator birds,” I grumble back.

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