Page 34 of Go Luck Yourself
He picks up his own glass and knocks it all back easily.
I don’t have to do it. IknowI can’t win a drinking contest with anyone, least of all someone who’s downing whiskey like water. I don’t think he’s on his second glass like I am—I’m pretty sure the butler’s been refilling his more, and Loch’s eyes aren’t even bloodshot.
My whole face squints to double check.
Yep. They’re clear.
And gray.
Who has gray eyes? Is that a real eye color?
Loch’s expression pinches into revulsion, likely at the way I’m studying him. So to cover, I suck back my glass of whiskey, becausethat’sa smart move.
But this time, I’m not able to choke off my reaction, and I splutter a wet cough into my lap.
Classy, Kris.
Real top-shelf levels of self-preservation going on here.
Loch snorts. “Canna handle your whiskey, boyo?”
“Would you stop with thatboyoshit.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin.
“Consider it part of your penance. Boyo. Though I prefer Coffee Shop, I think.”
“Fine, then.Shamrock.” I drop the name and wait for a response.
Loch’s fuming glower is unfazed.
Siobhán picks at her bread and singsongs “Awkward” into her lap.
“See now,boyo.” Loch leans back in his chair, chucking his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. “This is why I’m having a wee bit of trouble taking your earlier apology serious.”
“Loch,” Siobhán tries.
Finn is smirking at me. Like I deserve whatever’s coming.
“You do na seem at all remorseful,” Loch continues. “You seem to be the same stubborn prick you were in that library.”
“Funny,” I snap back. “I was thinking the same about you.”
Ohhh, here’s the whiskey coming out to play. Mix that with the incendiary fury Loch unleashes in me, and I should excuse myself from the table until I’m sober out of fear for what I might do without inhibitions.
But see above re: the whiskey coming out to play.
Oh boy, does it wannaplay.
Loch launches forward, red starting in his neck and rising up his cheeks. “Do you have any idea the mess you made for me? You saw the goddamn tabloids?”
“Yeah, I saw the tabloids—and doyourealize that I did come here to apologize?”
“I do na want yourpity,Coffee Shop.”
“Not pity—I feltbadabout what I’d done to you. And Iwasgoing to apologize. Properly. But you had to go and jackass-up that confrontation—” Did I say that word right?Confrontation.Yeah, we’re good. “So you’re right, my apology didn’t come off as sincere because you reminded me of what a self-righteous dick you are. And you know what? Turns out,I’m not actually sorry.”
He darkens. “Why are you here, then? Go on back to Christmas if you hate me so much.”
“I made a commimit—” Fuck. “Commimim—” Fucking whiskey fuckity fuck fuck—
