Page 12 of The Games Gods Play
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Boone exclaims in an overly jovial voice. “Slow down, Lyra-Loo—” He cuts off the nickname he gave me as kids so abruptly it’s jarring.
Oh gods. He knows. About Chance. About my crush. Everything.
Not that I’m surprised.
“You were humming again,” he points out with a grin. “I thought Felix trained that out of you.”
I put a hand over my mouth like I can pull those sounds back inside. Humming was a habit as a young pledge. I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it. It’s been a while since my training days, though, so I guess it’s back.
“Sorry,” I mutter and inch around him.
He moves, blocking the way. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
I’m pretty sure, in the history of our entire acquaintance, he’s never cared enough to ask me that. I shuffle back and force myself to look him in the eyes. Deep-brown eyes. I always liked his eyes.
And I could just bawl. Years of waiting for him to pay more attention to me, and he chooses today. The one time I don’t want it. I glance back but don’t see Chance. Yet.
“Nowhere,” I say.
I step. Boone steps, blocking me again.
“Excuse me.” I step again.
He blocks again.
“What?” I snap.
He blinks at me, probably because I never snap at him. Then a mottled flush creeps up his face, and he runs a hand around the back of his neck.
Oh…no. He doesn’t want to actually talk about it, does he? I’d really, really, really rather not. Especially not here or now.
An odd light enters his eyes, and he opens his mouth only to close it again. Sure enough. “Lyra—”
A loud murmur rises from the crowds in the streets on either end of the alley.
“I don’t want to miss this.” I manage to dodge around him, catching him on the hop for once.
“Wait.” He grabs my arm and swings me back around, reminding me of another man who did that to me tonight. I’m beginning to feel a bit like a rag doll, and about to say as much, but Boone is close enough I can smell the scent of the generic soap the den supplies in the bathrooms. I still for a moment, then shake my head. I have got to get out of here before Chance catches up and makes this all worse. I look pointedly at his hand.
He follows my gaze, then lets go abruptly. “Listen. I… Fuck… I’m sorry. Chance is an ass. If I’d been there, I would have done something about it.”
This is just getting worse by the second. I don’t need him feeling sorry for me. And that’s what this is.
“It’s fine, Boone,” I say. “I handled it.”
“I heard.” He grimaces again. “You’re sure—”
“Yeah. Not a big deal. It’s not your problem anyway.” This time when I go around him, he doesn’t stop me.
I get far enough that I think he’s actually going to let me go, but instead he’s suddenly beside me, not stopping me but walking with me. “You’re not trying to watch.” A statement, not a question. His voice is rife with curiosity now. “So, where are you going?”
I shoot him a sideways look. “I don’t need your pity friendship, Boone. I’m fine. Really.”
“This isn’t pity.” He offers a lopsided smile tinged with remorse.
I wish I didn’t know better. It’s not his fault.
“I thought we were cool,” he says.
