Page 56 of Dance of Defiance
I sigh dramatically. “I’m feelyveryjudged here,” I mutter. “And since when do we kink shame?”
“I dunno,” Lyra grins. “Maybesomeshaming would be healthy?”
I flip her off, making her giggle. “For your information, though it’s none of your fucking business, I was a good boy this weekend. Minimal shenanigans.”
Zero, actually, unless we're counting the multiple jerk-fests I had, solo, while thinking of all the ways I’d like to defile Roman Nikitin.
“Oh my God, are we sure the world is still turning?” Naomi says, a dramatically worried look on her brow.
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes. “You're just annoyed that you settled foronedick for the rest of your lives and have to live vicariously through my hookups now.”
Naomi arches an amused brow, glancing past me to Lyra.
“You heard thesettledpart, right?”
Lyra smirks. “Girl, I willsettlefor what I get at home, on the reg,every time.”
“Yup,” Naomi giggles. “I’ll settle right down on top of that?—”
“Okay, okay,Jesus,” I groan. “Who’s being fucking gross now? Remember the part where you’re both like sisters to me?”
“Yeah, sisters who get A-plus dick at home!” Lyra crows, laughing hysterically as she and Naomi high-five.
I shoot them a sour look. “We done now?”
“Hey, you started it with that pic on your phone,” Lyra snickers.
Naomi makes a face. “Do I need to see this photo? TWO of your hookups texted you their asses at the same time?”
“Literally in the same pic,” Lyra cracks up.
Naomi sighs and shakes her head. “Is this a cry for help? Are you spiraling?”
I’m flipping her off when Lyra turns serious. “Oh, before Evie gets here…” She frowns, lowering her voice. “Speaking of spiraling…I was at Doomsday the other night for a hot second.” Her brow furrows. “I saw Roman there.”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah?” I mutter under my breath.
She nods, still frowning. “Yeah…” Her lips twist. “He didnotlook good. Like he was trying to pick a fight or something. And he wasshitfaced. Like, I went over and said hi to him and he looked right through me. It was spooky.”
Naomi's brow creases. “That’s…not good.”
“Well,” I shrug, “maybe he’s precisely what no one wants to say out loud: a grouchy dickhead with a serious drinking problem.”
“Val!” Lyra glares at me.
“What?”
“I mean,” she shrugs, “he’s obviously going through something, or…I don’t know…just try having a little compassion?”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I snort.
I don’t tell them that I’m pretty sure I know exactly what Roman is going through. Intimately, and all too well.
A piece of him knows exactly who and what he is. And the rest of him is rebelling against it, and refusing to acknowledge that truth.
Bluntly, it’s called self-hate, and I want no fucking part of it where that asshole is concerned.
“Uh…” I clear my throat. “How badwashe?”
