Something unfamiliar twisted in my chest when the unknown, irritating-as-hell girl cried.
I made people cry as a non-declared hobby, like my fans when I scored. Players when I smashed their faces in. My gran when she pretended I didn’t visit enough. Girls when I made them come.
But this, here? This was different. This irked me in the wrong way.
That gorgeous voice broken by sobs.
My hand raked through my tousled blond locks as I paced back and forth. My size wasn’t meant for the tiny space I’d holed up in to call the girl, but I didn’t want my friends to overhear my conversation. Or to know about her at all, a Comet girl. I wanted to keep her separate from my life, keep her just for myself.
She didn’t know who I was, and I liked that. I wanted her to treat me like I was just another werewolf. Someone who didn’t fangirl all over me or get obsessed. The more distance, the better—especially if I wanted to keep my secret intact.
But I had to call and gloat about my brilliant revenge-in-progress. I’d put real effort into this one.They haven’t called me Prank King since tenth grade for nothing.
I had to admit, though, the Yvaine girl and her moronic friend had imagination. Their little stunt was almost impressive, and a cause of great irritation. My inbox was still crawling with doms and sugar daddies. Hell, one more warty dick pic from some optimistic old man, and I’d just trash my phone and get a new one.
Ultra-competitive as I was, Ineverlost. Whether it was winning a game or a girl, victory was instinct. Consequences were optional.
The girl with the most angelic voice had thrown down the gauntlet.
But then, she’d cried.
And I’d rather getCamillatattooed across my ass than hear her cry.
I swallowed, pawing my neck. I was supposed to win. Instead, I felt like the biggest loser alive.
“Excuse me, what flyers are you talking about?” Yvaine asked again, her tone steady despite the sad edge.
“What? Flyers? Nope.” I popped thepand a shoulder. “Didn’t say that. You misheard me.”
Smooth.
She didn’t argue. Just sighed, quiet and defeated, like she had no strength for verbal arguments. A flicker of disappointment shot through my chest. Ilikedarguing with her.
Calling Yvaine from Comet different from the other girls sounded like a cliché, but hell, there was no better way to put it.
“But tell me, why were you crying if it wasn’t about the fly—um, never mind. Just tell me why you were crying.” I cleared my throat.
She heaved out a shaky sigh. “It’s just…sometimes there’s too much injustice in the world. I keep telling myself I have the power to change things, to fix them, but sometimes I just don’t. And I hate that.”
“You know…” I rubbed my jaw. “One thing I’ve learned over the years is that we don’t always have control. So I let life happen. Doesn’t mean I like it, but I’ve stopped fighting what’s beyond my reach.” I paused, letting her absorb my words. “Which is very little.”
“I hate not being in control. I’m a control freak!” Yvaine proclaimed.
The hairs on my arms rose. Thatvoice.Assertive and sweet, always edged with a hint of snark. Every word landed with structure, precise and proper, like a dictation she refused to mess up. “We all are, in our own way. But even when you can’t control what happens, you can always control how youreact.”
“How?” she asked.
I grinned.
“I go for a run. Call a girl,” I said casually, and Yvaine huffed. My grin widened. “I hang out with my friends or my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
I scratched the black diamond tattooed over my knee.Which tattoo would be her favorite? Does she even like tattoos?“Yeah. Trix’s cool.”
“Are yousureyou guys are related?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
