“What’s up, Ashbourne?”
A grating voice calls as I pass by the third-floor common room. I hardly have to look to know who it is.
“Deacon,” I call back, turning on my heel.
He is standing beside the big suede sectional, idly swinging a rubber band around his finger. Beside him, Covington sits, nose deep in a book.
“Hi, Covington.”
He looks up, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, h-hi, Iris,” he mutters, before ducking his head and going back to his reading.
“What happened to you?” Deacon asks, eyeing my sweatpants. “Cross, make you change?”
The image of my soaked panties hanging torn between Elliot’s fingers almost makes me laugh.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Deacon shakes his head.
“Only a heartless man would cover up an ass like that.”
He grins, attempting a sly smirk. But it’s too stiff not to be practiced, and it’s too familiar to be original. I’d take one guess at where he learned it from.
“Yeah, well, when your boyfriend fucks you so hard your panties rip in half, it’s kind of hard to keep wearing your mini skirt.”
I shrug as if this is a daily occurrence, and Deacon tries desperately to smother the blush on his cheeks. Covington’s ears perk, but he doesn’t lift his gaze from his book.
“What’re you reading?” I ask.
He looks at me, holding up a little green leather-bound book.
“No title,” he says, shrugging.
“Oh, I’m almost through with that,” I say. “You like it so far?”
His finger is marking a page somewhere in the middle, and he nods.
“Yeah, it’s good. Not as good as Manhurst, but I like it.”
“Nothing’s as good as Manhurst,” I say.
“I don’t know,” Covington mutters. “That ending is pretty unrealistic.”
“Unrealistic?” I scoff. “What’s so unrealistic?”
“A woman slaughtering a man like Cedric? Seems outlandish.”
My eyes roll, and I remind myself why I never discuss Manhurst with men. They never get it.
Well, except Elliot.
Deacon, unable to be anything other than the center of attention for longer than five minutes, chimes in.
“I’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of that,” he says. “Know where I could snag one?”
“You could try the library,” Covington answers, before I have the chance to say the same.
