All I can think about is hurting him. It’s fucking distracting. I’m not used to feeling so much so sharply.
The only thing that keeps me from going at his throat now is the fact that Neve Devine is on the couch beside me, and not him.
When I saw her straddling him, her hand around his throat, it’s as if my brain short-circuited. For a moment, I couldn’t speak again, just like when I was a kid. I wanted to, the words were there, in my head, the feelings loud, but they wouldn’t come out. I found it impossible to say anything about my right winger’s position underneath this girl, so instead, I said exactly what Sylvan wanted me to say.
He knew I had news. I texted him to ask where he was.
He didn’t knowwhat,exactly, I was going to say.
And he’s taking it too well.
I’d only planned to talk to him about it in the morning, but then Neve texted me.
In my mind, she’sNorth.
The part of the province I’m from; home, but a place I keep a healthy distance to, too. She’d never understand that nickname, though, and I don’t even know if it makes sense anywhere but in my head.
“And how do you know all this?” Neve adds, a healthy distance between us on the deep purple couch. She has a rum and Diet Coke on a coaster in front of her, delivered from a waiter who came in to check on us.
I’m not drinking anything, and Sylvan is sipping on a virgin Shirley Temple, two cherries along the rim that he hasn’t eaten yet.
I’ve watched Neve eyeing them more than once and I add that to the meager details I know about her.
Maybe she likes cherries. Maybe she wants a whole jar.
This is fucking ridiculous, what’s going on inside my head.
I need to focus.
There’s been a fucking murder, Faust.
I keep my palms pressed together, elbows on my knees as I stare at the scarred coffee table between us.
“Coach tipped me off.” I answer Neve’s question and ignore Sylvan so I don’t fulfill my fantasies of punching the living fuck out of him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Neve snatch up her drink. Hear her swallow at my side. Even with this distance between us, her scent invades my senses. Incense. A cathedral, and she’s the Madonna.
Fuck, get out of my head.
“Since they’re already eyeing us sideways over… What was his name, Neve?” Sylvan’s tone indicates he knows exactly what his name is.
Was.
What’s the difference to me?
“You broke his nose.” I speak before she can, and this time, I lift my eyes to Sylvan.
He stares at me for a heartbeat before he’s breaking eye contact and sipping on the paper straw in his drink.
He swallows, hard, then sets his drink down and hooks both arms around the back of the booth, but he still won’t look at me.
“She told you.”
“I don’t keep secrets for you.” The words are from her, and I like them more than I should.
Sylvan snaps his focus to her so fast it shocks me. “What about forhim?” There’s a bite to his words.
But he blinks.
