Page 66 of Obsession
“Good. Do that.”
Bricks points at me. “See, that right there is new.”
“What?”
“You didn’t argue.”
“Because he’s right.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, not exactly wanting to continue this back and forth.
“Oisín or Moth?”
“Yes.”
Bricks gives Moth a look. “He’s getting worse.”
Moth studies me as if I’m one of his boards and someone has moved a pin without permission. “He is not worse. He is destabilized.”
“I’m in the room,” I throw out.
“We know,” Moth replies. “That’s why the discussion is useful.”
Bricks leans forward, forearms braced on his knees, the humor in his face staying just long enough to make the bluntness easier to swallow. “All right, since nobody else is brave enough, I’ll say it simple. You like him.”
I rub a hand over my face. “No shit.”
Bricks pauses, thrown off by the lack of resistance. “Well, that went easier than expected.”
“I like fucking him. I like that he’s useful. I like that he doesn’t fold unless he decides to, and I like that he pisses off everyone who thought he’d be easy to ignore. Pick one and stop looking at me like you discovered fire.”
Moth tilts his head. “That is an inventory, not an answer.”
I point at him. “Do not start using Bricks’ lines.”
Bricks looks offended. “My lines are good!”
“Your lines are obvious.”
“Obvious doesn’t mean wrong.” Bricks’ grin fades as he settles deeper into the chair. “You like fucking him. Fine. That’s not news to anyone with working ears. You also like when he talks back, which is new. You like him sitting with Moth. You like watching Tally feed him. You like that Demo follows him around like a nervous duckling. You like that he kissed you and walked out before you could make it an order.”
I don’t answer, and Bricks takes the silence for the permission it isn’t.
“That’s what’s bothering you,” he says. “He wanted you. He didn’t obey you, didn’t ask permission, didn’t let you turn it into one of your little power games. He wanted you, and then he left you sitting in it.”
Moth crosses one leg over the other with the grave seriousness of a man about to make everything worse. “Being wanted may be outside Saint’s normal relational framework.”
Bricks looks at him. “Relational framework?”
“I am trying to avoid saying he has the emotional vocabulary of a locked garage.”
“You failed. That was meaner.”
“It was accurate.”
I look between them. “Neither of you has been in a relationship long enough to be this smug.”
Bricks lifts a finger. “I had a boyfriend for six months.”
“He stabbed you.”
