Page 92 of Playing Dirty
“Right,” he muses, his voice practically dripping with dubious sarcasm.
“It’s not my fault you live to push the limits of it.”
“And it’s not my fault you enjoy it.”
Every damn minute of it, and boy, does he know it.
I’d love to put some three-hour action flick on just to keep him here longer, but I decide to play fair and put on the obvious choice:The Breakfast Club.
His soft chuckle floats over my skin when he sees my selection. “How fitting.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like we all actually met trapped in detention,” I tell him while dropping the remote on the coffee table. “I think Vaughn would’ve rather been hung on the flagpole in his underwear than ever get in trouble back then.”
Though, thank God neither of those happened.
“It’s cool that all of you ended up here together. And that you’re still close.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty lucky how it all worked out.”
So many people lose touch with their friends in college, everyone going their separate ways and becoming consumed by everything new and fun. But I also have to believe the four of us would’ve found a way to maintain our friendship if we’d ended up at different universities. That we still will once college is over.
“If it wasn’t detention, then how did you guys meet?”
My fingers sweep over the patch of skin just above his hip bone, moving in slow circles while I talk. “Miles and I have known each other since elementary school, but we didn’t really become friends until freshman year of high school. Accidental trauma bonding over our dads does that, I guess.”
“His passed too?”
“No,” I whisper, my attention shifting back to the screen.
Though I’d never admit it aloud, especially to Miles, sometimes I wish that were the case.
Theo must realize it’s not my story to tell, because he doesn’t push or question when I quickly move on to Vaughn’s and Torin’s entries to the fold.
“Vaughn’s the son of my mom’s best friend, so I’ve actually known him the longest of all. My earliest memories involve him at birthday parties and crap, and he’salwaysbeen this ray of sunshine. Even when he’d get picked on for being gay or liking theatre or anything else that was so ‘uncool’ in high school, he didn’t let it affect him—not that he showed, anyway. He’s the only person on this planet I know who is unapologetically himself, which is why he was the first person I came out to.”
As I recall the kid he was back then—how resilient and unwavering he taught himself to be—I’m hit with a sense of gratitude. He might get on my last nerve sometimes, but I don’t know what I’d do without him in my corner. Especially back then, when I was terrified being gay would ruin my chances at going pro one day.
“And what about Torin?”
“Ah, yes. The black sheep,” I muse wryly. “He…was kind of an accident, I guess. He was the new kid when freshman year started, transferring like a week or two into the term. Not super late, but everyone had kind of already broken off into their own friend groups and cliques when he showed up, and he didn’t do much to try fitting in.”
“I get the vibe that not much has changed there,” Theo murmurs in observation, and I shake my head.
“Not in the slightest. And he definitely looked and played the part of the outcast back then too. But Vaughn being Vaughn, he finally had enough of watching him eat lunch alone every day, so he took his tray over there and sat down across from him.” A stupid smile pulls at my lips, remembering the scene like it was only yesterday. “Of course, Tore thought he was fucking insane and ignored him for a solid week, just letting Vaughn chatter on the entire lunch hour without uttering a word back.”
The heat from Theo’s soft laugh fans over my shoulder when he murmurs, “Talk about persistent.”
Or insane.
“You don’t know the half of it. The kid pretty much forced Tore into friendship, and that was right around the time Miles and I started becoming tight, so…” I trail off, motioning obscurely with my hand. “There you have it. The origin story of the Core Four.”
A little snort leaves him, and I know the comment he’s about to make before it even leaves his lips. Which is why I mutter an indignant, “Give us a break. We were fourteen.”
“And I assume it was all Vaughn,” he teases, to which I nod.
“Look at you, already growing to understand the inner workings of a Blackmore Falcon your first time behind enemy lines.”
“I like them,” he whispers after a moment. “Your friends, I mean.”
