Page 80 of False Comeback

I remembered, clearly, the way he’d hunched up a little after hearing my clipped, refined accent. He’d briefly shaken my hand, keeping his eyes averted, and muttered his name back before moving on.

Not long after that, he’d started making his disdain for me apparent.

Corey sighed and crossed something out in his notebook. “Alright. Let’s move on. Vince, tell me about your childhood.”

Vince grew so stiff and tense that I could practically feel the couch vibrating beneath me. “I’m not talking about that, Corey. And it has nothing to do with whatever the fuck this is.”

The orc gave me a hopeful look. I shook my head.

He sighed again and crossed something else out. “Then let’s discuss the argument that prompted our recent court session, when things between you took a turn for the worse. Vince, would you like to begin?”

“No.”

“Would you like to share what Crossbody did that elicited such an… explosive reaction from you?”

Vince scrubbed his face with an exasperated huff. “Corey, I don’t even care about that anymore. I’m over it.”

I stiffened, looking away and watching my fingers pick restlessly at the armrest of the couch. Yes, he’d made it quite clear that he was ‘over it.’ All of it.

“But where did the anger come from?” Corey asked passionately, undeterred by Vince’s reticence.

“I was just having a bad day,” Vince snapped. “And I could hear Crossbody laughing every time I fucked up this one move. Which was a dick thing to do.”

“You don’t react that way when Dan or any of the others tease you for mistakes,” I said stiffly. From the corner of my eye, I saw him look over at me.

“We’re not friends,” he said, almost hesitantly.

I pursed my lips and coolly responded, “I’m aware.”

“Crossbody, do you think it was appropriate to do that?” Corey asked, writing something in his notebook.

“I didn’t even realise I was doing it,” I drawled, which was another lie. I’d been trying to goad him. Trying to get a reaction. Because he always did the same to me.

Well, he used to.

“Yes, you did,” Vince muttered, crossing his arms again and slouching low on the couch. “You were trying to piss me off.”

I managed a curt huff of amusement. “I don’t spend every moment at work fixating on you, Vince.”

That felt like a lie too.

“And how does that make you feel, Vince?” Corey asked in his therapist voice, making a note.

“What?” Vince spluttered. I glanced over quickly to see a flush rising in his cheeks. “It—Nothing. It doesn’t make me—I don’t think about him either.”

“Well, you must,” Corey countered, which made Vince’s whole face turn pinkish-purple. “You both must, for you to harbour such animosity toward each other. I want to get to the root of why.”

“We just don’t get along,” Vince gritted out, sounding embarrassed and angry about it. “Sometimes people just don’t like each other, Corey.”

“I refuse to believe it,” he declared. “I can fix this. I have the utmost confidence in myself. And you two,” he added as an afterthought, settling back in his chair and bobbing his stiletto languidly. “Why don’t we discuss your recent matches together? When you worked together very well. Let’s focus on the positives.”

We both stayed silent. Vince’s jaw was clenched, and I was just as tense, part of me wondering if he was going to change his mind and tell Corey the truth about what I’d done. Let me take the fall for my foolish actions.

“You worked so well together that you made the… questionable decision to change the outcome of your match without consulting Holt or Coach Boris.” Corey raised a brow at us. “Which in turn prompted Holt to schedule a second ‘redemption’ match for you. Does that mean you enjoyed working together?”

Again, neither of us spoke. All I could think about was that night in the arena when we’d tried to rehearse. Being tied to the corner post and spread out naked. Vince’s long tongue sliding over my aching cock. His finger pumping inside me.

I was growing warm, a little flustered, and I reflexively uncrossed and recrossed my legs. I sensed Vince’s gaze flicker over to me.