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I notice Niall rolling his eyes, and I have to force myself not to do the same. “Just throw your pole, yeah?”

“With pleasure,” Malcolm answers haughtily.

He claps his hands together before strolling over to his pole, lifting the heavy rounded end from the grass to test its weight. I know that normally they can weigh upwards of twelve kilograms, but I alsoknow that Blair likes to make everything “more interesting” so they’re probably much heavier than they should be. This is apparent by the way the muscles in Malcolm’s arms immediately bulge with effort, his cheeks puffing as he blows out a breath, steadying himself.

Niall and I watch as he starts to spin, dragging the pole through the air as he picks up momentum. His face is red, sweat dripping from his hair as he gathers speed, and in a matter of seconds he’s releasing the pole, letting it fly across the field. It lands a good ten meters away, and the crowd begins to clap and cheer as a still-panting Malcolm raises one hand in the air, pumping his fist.

“Age before beauty,” Niall says with a bow.

I remind myself that it wouldn’t be polite to strangle him in public.

I step up to my pole, adjusting my own blue-and-red tartan so it’s settled on my hips, dusting my hands together before reaching to grasp the pole. I plant my feet to get my bearings before I look over in Key’s direction, noticing that she’s leaning over the railing of her tower. She gives me a wave, and I feel a smile touching my mouth in answer.

I lift the pole, immediately scowling.

Blair absolutely made mine heavier than necessary. The damned thing has to be at least fifty kilograms. There’s no way Malcolm could have tossed this, which tells me Blair meddled to make sure it was more of a “challenge” for me.

As much as I love my friend, sometimes I hate her just as much.

I grit my teeth as I start to spin, feeling the weight of the ball at the end of my pole threaten to topple me over as I let it circle around me. I wait until it’s gliding through the air smoothly before I start to time my release, finally digging in my heel at the exact moment I let it fly. I watch it sail in an arc before dropping back down, my grin impossibly wide when it drops a good two meters farther than Malcolm’s.

I turn to him, breathing hard but no doubt looking smug. “What was that about kicking my arse?”

“Och.” He throws up his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You young pups and your bloody ego.”

Niall jogs up to his pole, winking at me. “Let me show both of you how it’s done.”

Niall beats Malcolm by a slim margin, and I suspect if it weren’t for the immediate pint of beer offered to him upon losing, he might have a lot more to say about it. As it is, he’s grumbling on the sidelines with his second glass, eyeing the field as Niall and I move into position for the final task.

“Our last game is the classic tug-o’-war,” Hamish announces, “but with a twist!”

I glare at Blair, sensing she’s cooking up something else for my benefit. She just blows me a kiss from the sidelines.

“To make things interesting,” Hamish says, “both our lads will be tying their rope around their waist, and instead of your usual pulling their opponent over a line—one of these two will actually need tobring the other to the ground.”

Fuck me.

“That’s right,” Hamish goes on. “So it’s not just about strength, but cunning also!”

Niall is already stepping into the looped bit of his end of the rope, and once it’s secured around his waist, the eejit reaches for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it away so that all his sweat-drenched muscles are on display. He flexes his arms and makes a bit of a show out of it, smiling at me as if in challenge.

You’ve nothing to prove to him.

Then he blows a kiss at Keyanna, and I see red at the edges of my vision.

I grunt as I step into my own loop, settling it around my waist and immediately wrenching off my own shirt. I skip the theatrics; I’ve nothing to prove to this kid, after all, but given that I’m at least two inches taller than him with a good twenty kilograms on him—I can’t help standing a bit straighter. A quick glance in Key’s direction reveals her to be laughing behind her hand. She’ll no doubt have plenty to say about this after.

Niall grips either side of the looped end of his rope, planting his feet in the grass and steadying himself as I do the same. I can hear Hamish beginning to count down to the start, and by the time the whistle blows—I can barely hear it over the rushing of blood in my ears. I grip the rope tight and force a step back, satisfaction coursing through me as Niall stumbles forward a bit. He doesn’t go down, though, surprising me by using all of his body weight to immediately tug me in the opposite direction.

This back-and-forth goes on a lot longer than I’d like; even when I’m able to drag him a meter toward me, I can’t seem to get him unstable enough to fall flat on his face. I can feel sweat coating my skin, running down my temples—the sun high in the sky now and burning down on me until my entire body feels hot. It occurs to me that, regardless of my strength, this kid could absolutely outlast me, and with that in mind, I try to think of alternative methods to have him eating the grass.

The frustration of the idea of losing builds up, and the thought of anyone else kissing Keyanna—however innocent—threatens to spark a growing rage inside me that feels physical. I feel it burning under my skin, my fingers prickling as if my claws are seconds from coming out, and I force my eyes shut, knowing they must be burning.

Bloody hell, you can’t lose control. Not here.

I open my eyes with new determination, because I have toendthis. Before I lose it and cause a fucking panic. I watch Niall more carefully when he attempts to bring me down again, holding my ground and studying him for any signs of weakness.

On his next tug, I notice him throwing all of his weight backward into the rope as he inches me forward, and a lightbulb goes off above my head. Barely able to contain my smile, I let the rope slacken a bit, trying to appear tired, and I can see it, the look of victory when Niall thinks he has me. I wait for him to start to press all of his weight once more against his rope, watching his feet as they lift from the ground ever so slightly as he digs in his heels.