7

-MALCOLM-

PAUL SHANLEYis approaching across the food court, wearing clashing cargo shorts and a polo, and a bemused look on his face. Oh, Christ. Not now. North straightens and his face makes a tremendous effort to transform into his trademark dazzling smile. One second the hurt and anger twists his lips, the next it's gone. If you hadn't been there a few seconds earlier, you'd have no idea I just lost my shit at him.

"Oh hey, Paul," he says like he's genuinely pleased to see him. "How are you doing, man?"

Paul doesn't bother replying to North, instead moving his attention over to me. North doesn't register the rudeness, but it irks me. Add hypocrite to the long list of my faults. I glare back at him, sending him not-so-subtle "fuck off" signals. I need him to leave so I can mend whatever damage I have done with North.

North, being the people person he is, assumes my hostility is because Paul and I don't know each other, and makes introductions.

"Paul, do you know Mal? We're on the team together." He conveniently leaves out the part about me fucking his brains out, which honestly is for the best where Paul is concerned. "Mal this is Paul, he—"

"Lives in your dorm," I finish for him. "I know."

Paul and I have . . . history.

"Oh, do you guys have classes together?"

"No," I say.

North frowns, catching on that something's off between us. There's extra tension in the air. As if it wasn't tense enough already.

Paul's looking between us, his jaw tight. "What are you guys doing?" he says.

I increase the strength of my glare. "We're teammates, we're eating lunch. Do you want something, Paul?" The sharpness of my question could cut glass.

Paul hesitates. I know what he wants—the same thing as the last time I spoke to him. But he isn't going to get it.

While I wait for his answer, I fold my legs, and something falls out of my pocket and clatters onto the floor. I look down in time to see the remote for the plug that is currently in North's ass bounce across the floor to land at Paul's feet. I'm already half standing when Paul bends. His hand closes around it. The slight click of a button being pressed. And the next instant North jumps out of his chair with a yelp, one hand slapped to his ass. Heads spin in our direction, and Paul drops the remote like it's hot. I dive and scoop it up, and North sags back into his chair like a puppet with cut strings, hand clapped over his mouth, eyes wide, face bright red, rigid with embarrassment.

I shove the control back into my pocket quickly, but judging by Paul's face he already knows what just happened. And he's furious.

"Are you two f—"

"Fuck off Paul!" I snap.

Paul's mouth clamps shut automatically, obeying my instruction without even thinking. It looks like he's about to say something else, but then he swivels and storms off, his face livid.

I let out a long breath and look around. A few people are still staring in our direction, eager for a whiff of drama, and I glare at them until they turn away one by one.

"Oh shit." North is watching Paul go, his face in a full vivid blush. "Do you think he knows? Fuck." He groans and drops his face into his hands, then looks up again just as quickly, eyes wide. "Shit, what if he tells someone?"

I shake my head. "He won't."

He wouldn't dare.

North doesn't look so confident. "How do you know?" He frowns, a crease between his angled eyebrows. "And what the hell was all that between you guys?"

Any hope that he hadn't noticed vanishes. "We used to know each other."

A wasp buzzes around the sticky sugar on the table. I waft it away, but it hovers. I want to stop talking about goddamn Paul and get back to making sure our agreement is still in place.

The crease between North's brows deepens. "Know each other how?"

Is that a hint of jealousy? The thought gives me a small spark of hope for some reason.

"He isn't important. I need to ap—"

Suddenly North makes a startled noise as the wasp flies at him, and jumps up, knocking his chair over as he scrambles to get away, ducking, bobbing, and weaving, like he's in a boxing match with an invisible opponent. He looks genuinely scared.

"Is it gone?" he asks, looking around wildly, but there's no sign of it anywhere. It must have been as startled as me.

"You're scared of wasps?" I say.

He clears his throat, picks up his chair, and sits back down, still looking around.

"I'm, er, allergic to them actually."

"Allergic?"

"Yeah, not in a swell-up-and-die kinda way, but it's still pretty bad." He still looks spooked. "Hornets though, yeah, swell up and die. Big time."

I blink at him. This is news to me. "You didn't think it would be a good idea to tell me that?"

He shrugs, like he just told me something of zero importance. Like it isn't something that could literally kill him.

"Nolan, this is important information. Do you have an EpiPen? I should know where you keep it in case there's an emergency."

"It's in my dorm."

My mouth hangs open.

"What?! You don't have it on you?"

He can't be serious. One sting from an insect could kill him, and he doesn't even carry his EpiPen on him? I knew he wasn't great at looking after himself, but this is a whole new level of suicidal stupidity.

He rolls his eyes, like I'm nagging him about his shirt being untucked. "I'm hardly likely to get stung by a hornet at the mall, am I."

"That doesn't mean it won't happen! You need to take it with you everywhere!"

I can't tell if he's being argumentative because of what I said, or if he really doesn't care about his own welfare.

"The last time I took one out with me I lost it. Do you know how expensive they are?"

I stand up abruptly. "We're going back."

"Where?"

"To get your pen," I hiss through clenched teeth.

He's indignant. "But I haven't finished my chili cheese fries."

"I don't fucking care!"

I stride off and after a beat he scoops up his food and jogs after me, looking pissed. By the time we're back at the car, I'm so angry I'm almost vibrating. If he wants to be mad at me, fine, I deserve it. But when it comes to his safety, I'm not fucking around.

"Get in the car."

"Fine, but I'm bringing this with me." He waves his takeaway carton of fat and cheese in the air.

I would murder someone before I let them take food in my car, but right now I couldn't give one single fuck.