16. Clara
Chapter 16
Clara
W alking into the house after my Friday run is like walking into an electrical storm. Lightning’s building, and if it doesn’t have an outlet soon, there’s a good chance of rumbles and fire.
I had planned on avoiding Walker this week as a cooldown, but it turned out that he’d had the same plan. According to RJ, he’s been pulling late hours at the on-campus art studios, nominally working on his showcase pieces for his end of semester show. As this was the first I’d heard of him even having a studio, it was obvious he was avoiding me.
So I hid from the guys on Halloween, heading out with just Emma. By midnight, I couldn’t fake being fun any longer. Add to that my lingering unease with being out, and yeah, I was a total wet rag.
Luckily, Emma’s my best friend for a reason, so we went to an all-night grocery store and bought tubs of ice cream and a huge chocolate cake, before retreating to my room to watch old horror movies and gorge ourselves on the entirely wrong holiday’s treats.
I woke up with her hair in my mouth and a sticky mess on my floor, but I’d still call it a pretty good consolation prize.
Jansen snuck into my bed super late a few times this week smelling like gasoline, but it was always after I’d already passed out. Then I’d get up for class long before he woke up, so except for a few sleepy kisses, we haven’t revisited our wildfire connection. And even though Jansen hadn’t seemed to mind me jumping him while mad at Walker, it seems, I don’t know, mean?
With that uncomfortable thought, I take my sweaty self to the bathroom. Yanking off my damp gear and turning on the shower, I pick upt my phone while I wait. I log into the university portal, hoping that the grade for my business law midterm is up. Professor Gleim said she never gives perfect scores, so I’m not hoping for magic. I just want to beat Trips. It’s the simple things, you know?
Opening up the grading tab, I almost drop my phone.
Oh. My. God.
Somehow, I got a perfect 100. I scream, prancing around with my favorite happy dance, naked in the bathroom, so ready for some goddamn good news for once.
I’m facing the shower when the door bangs open. Leaping around, I find Trips glowering in the doorway. A second scream in as many minutes bursts from my lips.
“What the fuck?” I yelp, scrambling for a towel, awkwardly covering my front .
Trips looks dazed, his mouth opening and closing as he stares at me. “You screamed,” he says, his voice half strangled. He looks away at the mirror and flushes beet red.
Anger overtakes mortification. “It was a happy scream, you idiot. Check before you barge into my bathroom.”
Trips closes his eyes for a second, his hands curling into fists before relaxing. “Got it,” he says.
He opens his eyes again, still staring at the mirror, before turning away. “By the way, I got a 98 on the midterm,” he says, flashing a sly grin over his shoulder.
Gloating never felt so good. “I got a 100.”
He turns back from the doorway, me still clutching my towel against my torso, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or what, but with his eyes firmly turned toward the mirror, he holds out a hand for me to shake. I reach out and grasp it, his huge palm warm, my thumb brushing over the calluses on his knuckles. He takes a step closer, leaning down next to my head, so close his lips almost touch my ear. My heart races, my nakedness suddenly at the forefront of my consciousness. “Congratulations,” he whispers.
I look up at him, trying to figure out if he’s being genuine, but his face is still facing away, giving me privacy. “Thank you,” I say.
For a split second, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, if he’ll drag me against his broad chest and explore the something that vibrates between us. I won’t lie to myself and say I’m not trembling at the possibility. Instead, his breath tickles the tiny hairs around my ear. Then he steps away, letting go of my hand .
He backs out of the bathroom, still not looking at my mostly naked self. As he goes to close the door, I decide to reward good behavior. “Thank you, Trips.”
“For what?”
“For not looking.”
He leans against the frame of the door, a grin full on his face. “Clara, you covered up your front. That doesn’t keep me from enjoying that tight, round ass in the mirror.”
I glance at the bathroom mirror, and sure enough, my towel is not doing the job I thought it was. I whip back to Trips, but he’s already backing out of the bathroom, laughing hysterically at his own revelation.
“Fuck you, Archibald,” I yell, shoving him the last few inches out the door. Tears gather in his eyes as he wheezes, so I figure, fuck it. I drop the towel so I can give him a full-bodied shove, and the combination of my sudden nakedness and the force I put behind it makes him stumble back against the wall behind him.
I flip him off before bending to pick up my towel from the floor, not even bothering to cover myself. Fuck him. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the whole package now, anyway. “Knock next time, you bastard,” I growl, before marching back to the bathroom, steam finally flooding into the hallway.
The stupid shower waited until now to fog up the mirror. I shoot the offending fixture the finger as well, which apparently is hilarious to Trips, as he’s practically howling behind me.
I kick the door shut, the sound of his mirth not nearly muffled enough. Fucker stole my good mood. And ruined his own compliment. Asshole .
I yank a comb through my ends before stepping into the warm water, wishing for magic to portal me back two minutes ago, and start the long process of wetting my hair.
The warm water washes away most of my anger, leaving me with two realizations:
1. Despite the mixed signals, Trips is interested. Or at least he thinks my ass is hot. And
2. I totally kicked his ass on that exam.
The day just got a lot brighter.
Once I’m clean, dressed, and slightly less pissed, I search for RJ or Jansen—they’re heading to Chicago today for their reconnaissance mission, and I want to make sure I say goodbye. Things are so weird between Walker and me, and now, the two guys who’ve been helping me through this mess? They’re both leaving.
I knock on RJ’s door first.
RJ opens it wearing pajama pants and nothing else.
Years of martial arts have carved a delicious map of muscles over his entire upper half, and I physically tuck my hands into my pockets to keep myself from jumping him right there in the hallway. I mean, damn. I’ve seen hints here and there, but if this is nerd bod, I’m team nerd, all the way.
I might be drooling.
“Good morning, sugar,” he says, forcing my brain to restart so I can look him in the face like a normal, non- pervy person does.
“Hi,” I say, scrambling for the words I need in my overheated brain.
Luckily, RJ has me covered. “Want to come in? We’re not leaving for a couple of hours yet.”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I stammer, following RJ into his room.
Looking around, he uncovers a sturdy-looking nightstand and hauls it over next to his massive computer setup. I catch a hint of ink on his back as he kicks some dirty clothes into a pile. Mmm.
Forcing myself to focus on his setup instead of the ripple of muscles as he tidies, I conclude that he could single-handedly land a space shuttle from here. He has two rows of three curved monitors stacked on top of each other, all of them nesting around a chair that could only be described as futuristic. Wow.
He kicks the nightstand while rubbing the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. “Sorry, I, um, don’t have a second chair.”
I plop down cross-legged on his nightstand, patting the seat next to me. “No worries. I take it you’re working?” I ask, motioning at a variety of text boxes scattered around his screens, a few open but unfamiliar internet browsers, and a paused anime in one corner of a girl with blue hair wielding a massive sword paused mid-swing.
RJ settles into the chair beside me, taking a sip of Mountain Dew—it’s still morning. But as I’ve already had a full cup of coffee with milk and hot cocoa powder mixed in and will probably drink another sweet concoction yet this morning, I’m not the person to judge how he meets his daily caffeine intake.
“So what are we doing?” I ask, setting my elbows on my knees. I attempt to understand anything on his screens besides the anime and the Chicago weather forecast open in one of the internet browsers.
RJ toggles between a bunch of windows until he pulls up a photo of Jasmine surrounded by a bunch of older men and women, while one young boy with matching flame-red hair is pressed tight to her side. “I’m nailing down all the relationships in Jasmine’s web. We need to figure out who’s a threat, who might be an asset, what kind of trouble we could get into if we mess up, stuff like that. I’m also scraping for the other teams that we might be up against, so Trips has something to go on besides word of mouth while he tries to plan our offense.”
“So you’re basically doing Trips’ job for him?” I ask.
RJ laughs, and once again, I practically melt at the sound of it. “I’m drumming up leads. He’s going to be the one turning them into action.”
“Speaking of leads, I’ve got a few names for you to run through your scraper,” Trips announces from behind us.
I twist around to see him hovering in the doorway, his stance telling me to go, but the glint in his eye is 100 percent mischief. Bastard.
Spinning back to RJ, I can tell he’s going to ask me to leave. Before he can start the excuses about how Trips is more important right now, I slip off the nightstand. I get it. “I’ll vamoose, then. Just find me before you go, okay? ”
I can’t stop my hand from stealing a soft caress down from his shoulders over his biceps. He stops my hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Of course. You’ll be here?”
I nod, skirting around Trips on my way out the door. Trips snags me by the arm before I make it past him, and I stop, yanking my arm back. “Yes?”
Trips rolls his eyes, and I want to shove him again. Without the element of surprise, though, I don’t think he’d move as much as a millimeter. “No need to get all defensive. Come find me after they’re gone. I’m going to need you this weekend.”
Confused, I nod. Confirmation received, Trips nudges me the last few inches into the hall, winking with a grin as he slams the door in my face. Jerk.