Page 46 of Go Luck Yourself
He’s fuming. “None of your business. Yeah?”
It’s what I said to him in the library.
Don’t constantly attack him,I hear in my brother’s voice.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten defensive earlier. You were trying to be… nice. Maybe. I shouldn’t have snubbed your favorite authors.”
Loch’s brows shoot up. “Those were na my favorite authors.”
“But you—”
“I assumed you had na read a lick of Irish literature. Wasn’t about to let you be both a prick and an eejit.”
“Oh yes.” I bare my teeth. “Three years at Cambridge and I’m still considered an idiot.”
“There’s knowledge and then there’s education, boyo.”
Loch extends his palette to me.
There’s about two yards between us, so I give him a confused look.
“You paint?” he asks.
“Ha. No. I have a friend who does and I leave that sort of artistic expression to her.”
“Nah, that’s true—you said writing, eh?”
My face falls, mind flying back through everything I said in the library.
Fuck. I let that bit of information slip too. Just dumping all my secrets on this guy, aren’t I?
Loch pulls the palette back to himself and waves at the canvas. “It’s part of a series I’ve been doing for a final project.Portraits of Ireland.”
I’m more grateful than I can say that he didn’t make me expand on the writing thing, but hell if I show him that. I nod up at the painting. “So who is she?”
“Not a clue. Saw her in Cork last year. She had this… light about her.” He drags his hand through the air, encompassing the untouchable. “Wanted to capture it. Joy like that is the point of all this, eh?”
He eyes me again, and the challenge this time isn’tCome at me bro; it’s deeper than that.
This is likely the longest we’ve gone without yelling at each other. I want to point out that it’s because I’m choosing to be the biggerguy, but I don’t, and that feeds into my pride of being the bigger guy, and I’m stuck in an ego-loop.
“All this? You mean your Holiday?”
One half of Loch’s lips cuts up. “Surprised I give a shite?”
“Not really. I’m reserving having an opinion about who you are in relation to St. Patrick’s Day until I find out for sure. Fuck the rumors.”
His tension goes to suspicion. “The hell you on about?”
“What? Nothing.”
“You’re being awful pleasant.”
“You’re mad that I’m not being a dick to you?”
“A bit.”
“You’re certifiable. I’m trying to be civil. Canyoube civil?”
