Chapter Nineteen
A strange sense of satisfaction hums within at seeing the frat house full again.
I didn’t care for the drunken squabbles and revolving door of jocks until they didn’t exist anymore.
That’s when I discovered what I’d been doing all this time was filling the silence so the doubts in my head didn’t have to.
I don’t like my own company, and after this, I won’t have to endure again for a long, long time.
Sneakers thump against the hardwood, arms filled with bulky textbooks and paperbacks.
I’ve got the entire football and basketball team at my disposal, the promise of extra credit looming over their heads.
Ferrying books from the library to my living room, each one tips their head to me on the way in.
I’m leaning against the staircase, a lollipop in my mouth, feeling far too smug for a man who’s whipped enough to swap out his usual cigarette for candy.
Harper refuses to stop visiting the library, so I’m relocating it to where I can keep a close eye on her.
And should I become distracted, as is a regular occurrence in her presence, the newly installed surveillance system I’ve set up will catch any suspicious behavior.
The week I spent here alone after Christmas was not wasted.
The scent of paper and graphite soon seep into the walls. Stacks upon stacks of hardcovers, paperbacks and journals with cracked spines build up around the sofa and cover the coffee table. It’s taken all afternoon, and I’m not sure how long we’ve got before the librarian returns from the vets.
For the record, I did not run over her cat.
I just told her I did. She was an obstacle that needed to be temporarily removed whilst I effectively stole the entire science section, from Organic Chemistry to Molecular Biology, and everything in between.
And just so Harper can’t insist there’s something missing, I’ve got Joey clearing out the dark romance aisles and taking them straight up to my bedroom.
“Ahh, Rhys,” a guy with short hair and tattoos of spiders over his huge biceps shoves his hands into his pockets, “We’re about to bring in the last batch, but there’s no room left unless you want to block the walkways or take over the sofa.”
Pushing upright, I follow the jock back into the living area.
He’s right, something is going to have to be sacrificed.
We can’t put any of the books on the kitchen island, because Harper’s new coffee machine is there.
Call it a late Christmas present, now that I understand the meaning of ‘practical gifts’.
I’d thought my present in the cabin was extremely thoughtful, but Harper has made sure to have a talk with me about boundaries since.
Twisting my lips, I look back and forth across the room and nod, deciding there’s only one thing for it.
“Cover the sofa, and restack those books in the corner to create a throne.”
“A throne?” Jockey Boy questions and I hit him with a hard stare.
“Yes, a throne. Every King deserves one, does he not?” The others nearby pause, exchanging looks but they obey.
Keeping watch over the rearranging of physics books Harper is likely to not need, adrenaline prickles beneath my skin.
It comes together quickly, which is lucky.
Harper’s nightly study session is due to start soon.
Dropping onto the throne, I marvel at its sturdiness.
The base is built from hardcover tomes, the armrests from stacked binders of lab notes, and the seat is a thick slab of texts covered by a single sofa cushion.
Said sofa has been lost beneath the towers of anatomy manuals, the coffee table lost beneath molecular models and open notebooks.
I catch myself smiling as the jocks all line up before me, eager for my approval.
“Good job gentleman. I’ll speak to Coach in the morning.
” Dismissing them with a flick of my wrist, I lean back, smug as fuck.
Harper can fight me all she likes, but when it comes to her safety, I’m not taking any chances.
If she won’t stop visiting the library, then she’ll have to come and find it here.
Ten minutes past seven, my legs are crossed and I have a celebratory whiskey in hand as my front door flies open.
I hear her pass through the lower level, her stomping hard enough to rattle the windowpanes, before she rounds the stacks, her eyes alight with rage.
Haloed by the light from the hall, her hair is flustered from the wind, cheeks flushed pink.
She seems to be alone but I know better than to think Clay isn’t hanging back on the porch.
“What the actual hell did you do?” Her voice slices through me like a siren, high and furious and, God, so fucking alive. Resting my glass on the cover of Cellular Metabolism and Human Function, I crack my neck side to side.
“Improved your access to study material,” I say smoothly, gesturing around us.
“Welcome to your new library.”Her eyes flick from the piles of books to the throne I’m sitting on.
Her mouth opens, then shuts again, and for a long moment, she just stares, caught somewhere between fury and utter disbelief.
“You stole them?” she accuses, eyes narrowing.
“Borrowed,” I correct smoothly, straightening my collar.
“I checked the library policy. Turns out there’s no actual limit on how many books you can borrow within a two-week period.
So, unless I decide to extend my lease, you’ve got exactly fourteen days to cram and crank out Peterson’s new assignment.
” I flash her a slow grin. “You can thank me by writing my essay too.”
Her laugh is harsh and humourless, her hands slapping against her legging-clad thighs. Muttering curses beneath her breath, I watch Harper catalogue the texts, presumably checking for damage. When she can’t find anything, she folds her arms and taps her foot.
“They’re not alphabetized,” she pouts. I grin, unable to ignore how cute that pout is, and reach my hand out for her.
“I’m only human, Babygirl. A simple thank you would suffice.” Those green eyes swing to me, incredulous beneath pinched brows.
“For being so overbearing, you’ve cut off everyone else from the material they’re going to need as well? It’s not all about me, you know.” I snort. She’s wrong there.
“I don’t give a fuck about anyone else. Now, sit in my lap and praise me the way a King deserves.”
Her sigh is long and exasperated, but her shoulders loosen just enough for me to catch a flicker of amusement beneath the irritation.
I know, I’m irresistible. Taking two steps towards me, Harper whips her phone out of her jacket pocket and taps out a quick message before relenting.
As expected, Clayton’s silhouette passes beyond the window as he strides down my pathway, effectively being dismissed.
I smile with all the arrogance of a man who’s just gained the upper hand.
Curling my arms around her, I breathe in the vanilla scent of her shampoo and nudge my nose against her receiver.
If someone had told me a year ago that this would be the girl that turned my world upside down, I would have laughed in their face.
But back then, I didn’t know someone like Harper existed.
That someone who’s known pain, grief and misery can still be so spirited, bold and pragmatic.
I thought the only way to deal with trauma was to bury it, not to own it.
Indulging in my cuddle for a few minutes, Harper pats my head like a puppy and slides free from my lap.
She retrieves her backpack from where it must have been tossed by the front and raises a brow at me expectantly.
I stare blanky, not quite sure what to do now.
I’d kind of anticipated that she’d be on her knees in front of me, overwhelmed by gratitude as my cock sinks into her mouth.
Instead, she’s rolling her eyes and tilting her head to the side.
“Come on then. It’s study time.” Using the pathway provided, Harper walks to the dining table and pulls out her highlighters and sticky notes. “Pick up a book, Rhys. We need to settle on a topic for the essay that you’re going to write yourself.” I gaze after her, my mouth parted.
“I’m sitting here on a throne, ready to have the soul sucked out of me, and you want to study?!”
“Actually, it’s you who wants me to study. Isn’t that why you’ve done all of this, to become my new revision partner?”
My mouth slams shut, my thoughts stuttering to a halt.
Looking over the stacks with new eyes, the smugness falls away as I realize what I’ve effectively done.
I’ve cockblocked myself by giving Harper two thousand reasons to ignore me.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I’m preparing to set the entire room on fire as the doorbell rings.
A murmur of voices bleeds through the walls, and when I peer through the window, I find my front lawn covered with figures.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” Harper pitches in, unable to hide her smile, “I know how you like to make outlandish statements on the student forum, I thought I’d give it a try.
Ooo, is that a coffee machine?” She distracts herself, wandering off.
A tic beats in my jaw as I march across the room, tearing my phone out of my pocket.
Just as I reach the front door, I see Harper’s public message and almost lose my shit.
RHYS’ LIbrARY - OPEN NIGHTLY TO SCIENCE STUDENTS BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 7-10PM