Page 46 of Wicked Scorn
“More than you’d like to know,” Penn smirks, not missing a beat. His eyes flicker toward me briefly before returning to the game. “But at least I’m not hiding in the bathroom.”
“Yeah? At least I’m not getting my ass handed to me by a twelve-year-old online,” I counter, grabbing an empty spot on the couch and a controller.
“Touché,” Penn chuckles. He knows how to get under my skin, and he relishes it.
“Alright, enough bullshit,” Graham grins. The game resumes, bullets flying, characters shouting. It’s chaos, but it’s exactly what I need right now.
“Bring it on,” I say, settling into the rhythm of the game. For now, the flashing images and rapid-fire action drown out everything else—the tension with Oakley, the confusion, the desire. But I know it’s only temporary.
“Did you and Oakley enjoy a nice, well whatever it was that you two were doing up there?” Penn’s voice drips withmockery as he dies and is ejected from the game. His smirk is infuriatingly smug.
“Shut up, Penn,” I snap, feeling my cheeks flare with heat. “Worry about your own love life, if you can call it that.”
“Aw, come on, pretty boy. Did she finally tell you how much she can’t resist your brooding charm?” He wiggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself.
“Maybe she just likes guys who don’t wear slippers that look like a stuffed animal massacre,” I retort, nodding toward his feet. The absurdly fluffy slippers really are an eyesore, even for him.
“Hey, these are comfortable,” he defends, but I see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Besides, they’re not as tragic as your love life.”
“Better tragic than nonexistent,” I shoot back, gripping the controller tighter. The plastic creaks under my fingers. “How many people did you strike out with last week?”
“None,” he says smoothly, shrugging. “But nice try.”
“Focus on your game, Penn, or you’ll be the one getting embarrassed,” Graham interjects, leaning into the screen with fierce intensity. His hair bounces with each rapid movement.
“Ha! Nice try,” Penn crows as he takes down both me and Graham. “Better luck next time.”
“Come on, Jeremiah, step it up,” Graham chides, his competitive streak flaring. “I can’t carry you all night.”
“Who’s carrying who?” I retort, managing to take out two of Penn’s characters in quick succession. “Looks like I’m pulling my weight just fine.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Penn laughs, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Maybe you need to get laid. Oh wait, you’re too busy pining over Little Miss Perfect.”
“Watch your six!” I warn, spotting an ambush forming around Graham’s character as I ignore my dipshit of a brother.
“Got it,” he acknowledges, swiftly evading the trap.
We play round after round, taking turns having each other’s back and also killing one another.
“Okay, last round,” I announce, feeling the fatigue setting in but unwilling to show it. The adrenaline is wearing off, replaced by a dull ache of unresolved tension.
“Game over!” Penn’s voice slices through the tense silence as my character collapses on the screen one final time. The defeat stings, but his smug grin is worse.
“Nice try,” he drawls, leaning back, controller dangling from his fingers. “But you know what really made my day?”
“Don’t want to hear it.” I glare at him, but he’s already rolling on, unstoppable.
“Two co-eds. One mind-blowing blow job.” He emphasizes each word with a lazy smirk. “Blonde and brunette. They were insatiable.”
“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter.
“Love you too, bro,” Penn says, his laugh ringing out as his character respawns. “Love you too.”
Chapter 17
Oakley
Sunlight filters through the curtains, waking me up slowly. I’m cocooned in the comforter, my body heavy with contentment. Turning my head, I see Jeremiah asleep beside me. His strong features are softened by slumber, and I can’t help but smile. Careful not to disturb him, I slip out of bed and pad down the stairs toward the kitchen.
