Chapter Twenty Six
The last few weeks have passed in a blur since that perfect day. The ideal landscape, the lovely picnic, and Clay’s kisses. I keep myself in that blissful bubble, being as productive as I can be before it all goes to shit once again.
The science students actually smile as I enter the lab, Millie reaching over the aisle to hand back the textbook she borrowed from Rhys’ place for some late night cramming.
I’ve told him this week is the last he can keep the books, no more extensions.
They belong back in the library where everyone can assess them, and I’m done hiding.
I want to be back amongst the shelves and the civilization.
I didn’t trade my aunt’s attic for another gilded cage.
Clay stays close to my side, attentive as ever.
Helping to lift the bag from my back, he waits for me to unpack before leaning to place it by the leg of my stool.
Rhys drops down on my other side, holding his hand out for a pen with a blank expression on his face.
He’s bored. Bored of attending classes, bored of the study groups.
Bored of the consideration Clay gives to every aspect of my day without any effort.
It doesn’t matter that Rhys convinces me to stay over at his more nights in the week than not, he always wants more.
Peterson decides to grace us with his presence today, if only to oversee an assessment.
Handing out the thick booklets to the front row and asking them to be passed back, he eyes Clay with a scowl until he shuffles his stool away from me.
We have two hours to complete the stapled worksheets, which means Peterson has two hours to sit and to dutifully grade our recent assignments.
I’m rather proud of the work Clay and I came up with. Rhys did not hand one in.
Quiet falls over the room as we are told to begin, and I immediately yank my receivers off. I’m growing more used to wearing them, but they’ll never feel natural. Flipping over the first page, I force myself to ignore the heat pulsing from either side of me and focus.
Clay has stuck by what he said. He’s been giving me the freedom to get Rhys out of my system, if it’s even possible.
Every time I have Rhys to myself in the dead of night, I get a new side of him.
A new vulnerability or depraved need comes to light.
Rhys is more complex that even he realizes, like a Rubik cube that’s only just learnt it has different colors, never mind how they twist and shift into a uniform pattern.
But we’re always separate. It’s me and Rhys, or me and Clay.
Whenever I’m with one, the other tries to steer my attention back.
The almost threesome we had on Rhys’ kitchen island is a distant memory now, the rift between them starting to splinter once again.
I don’t know how to stop it, and I haven’t been actively trying.
I never signed up to be their rivalry counsellor.
Currently, Rhys is tapping his pen on the page, much to the annoyance of those nearby.
Luckily, I can’t hear it. Clay is racing through his paper, scrawling out lengthy answers in cursive handwriting.
For me, the words on the page begin to jumble, my eyes feeling itchy as I rub them.
I try to answer as many questions as possible, lying to myself that I’ll go back for the ones I’ve skipped.
Come on Harper, focus. It shouldn’t be this difficult to separate my education and personal life, but they seep into each other too often.
Clay nudges me all too soon, signaling that the timer has finished.
I reluctantly clip my receivers back on with a huff.
There’s nothing like an assessment to prove to yourself that you’ve retained absolutely nothing of relevance.
Glancing over to Rhys, I see that he was productive in the last twenty minutes, doodling a tattoo design on the back of his paper.
He slides it over to me, the pen sketch of an upside down bat staring out of the page with large eyes. A smile grows across my face.
“Why didn’t you become an art major? You have a skill for it,” I ask. Rhys makes a strangled noise, waving me off as if I didn’t see the slight twinge of pink touching his cheeks.
“Yeah right,” he stands and strides off. I shove the drawing into my backpack, before heading up front to hand in my test paper. Rhys hovers outside the door, leaning against a locker that one of our classmates is trying to gain access to. I link our arms and walk him further down the hallway.
“Are you guys free later? I said we’d help Addy set up the gymnasium for her talent show.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?” Rhys scrunches up his nose in disgust. I shrug, keeping him close to my side. When I’m asking for help, he’s the biggest flight risk.
“Because it’s nice to help our friends. Her team has been slacking and she’s worried it won’t be ready by the weekend.
” The whole college has been buzzing about the talent contest for weeks.
Posters have been plastered on every available surface, an air of excitement bringing a pleasant change from the mundane day to day.
“She’s no friend of mine,” Rhys grumbles so I turn to face Clay instead. Running a hand over his beanie, he looks everywhere I’m not.
“I won’t be able to today, I’m afraid. I’ve got...something else on.” Clay shuffles from foot to foot. I raise an eyebrow suspiciously.
“What have you ‘got on’?” I air quote with my free hand, bringing a shy smile to his full lips.
“A counselling session with one of the sophomores. I made him a deal a while back,” he says cryptically.
Shrugging, I pat his forearm and withdraw my arm from Rhys’.
Counselling would be great for Clay, but I didn’t miss the fondness that shone in his eyes when he spoke about this mysterious sophomore.
Clay has a friend, which is even better.
“No problem. It’s just setting up and Addy will be there. I’ll manage being on my own for an afternoon.”
“Like fuck you will,” Rhys’ gruff voice penetrates the air, severe and sudden. I flinch, as do the students surrounding us. My widened eyes flick to him, assessing the clench of his jaw and the flare of nostrils.
“Jesus, don’t do that,” I chastise. “There’s no need to be in defense mode all the time.
It’s one afternoon. I’ll be fine. It’s just some painting and set arranging.
” Rhys’ eyes do not waver, his protectiveness radiating in dark, rolling waves.
He’s the one who didn’t want to come, now he’s acting like I was trying to get away from him.
“I’ll watch over you until Clayton returns.” He states matter-of-factly. My mouth pops open.
“You’ll watch over me but you won’t help out?
” I question and Rhys nods, not a hint of regret in his discussion.
Sometimes I forget, just because Rhys has warmed up to me, that he’s still an asshole to everyone else around him.
Shaking my head, I adjust the strap of my backpack.
“I’d rather just see you later. I don’t need you standing watch at my back, like some kind of guard dog who won’t wear a muzzle. ”
A ripple of silence falls between us, the back of my neck prickling with instant regret. Rhys raises a solitary brow, his pierced lip turning downwards. Clay lingers, unsure whether to stay or go.
“Shit, Rhys, I didn’t mean—”
“Is that what you think I am?” Using his tongue to toy with his lip ring, Rhys nods and strides past me. I share a quick pitying glance with Clay, who salutes me and mouths, good luck. Great, thanks for that.
Catching up to Rhys' side, I try to get him to slow down and look at me, but he’s a man on a mission.
Said mission apparently brings us to the café in the veterinary building.
I’m not overly surprised, since Toadfully Caffeinated is Rhys’ favorite coffee spot and it is lunchtime.
I’ve got an hour before I told Addy I’d be at her disposal.
One hour to bring Rhys back from whatever dangerous mood I’ve put him in.
Rhys stops short, opening the door and waiting for me to enter first. I blink, forcing my feet to move as he stalks in behind, his heavy boots thudding against the polished floor.
The faint smell of disinfectant and freshly ground coffee mingle in the air, the low chatter of students studying over lattes dipping into an uneasy silence as we pass.
They can feel Rhys’ mood like I can. It’s practically a black raincloud hanging overhead, each step brewing a storm beneath his skin.
Despite the wariness of those seated at tables, I straighten my shoulders and slip my hand into his.
As Rhys clamps his fingers between mine, electricity burns in my veins, a heady power swimming through me.
It must be intoxicating, being the most feared man in the room, and I’m his woman.
I’m the barrier between him and those who fear him.
The hiss of the espresso machine fills the space, stream polluting the air behind the counter. With fogged glasses, Kenneth blinks up at me and grins.
“Hey Harper!” he calls out, oblivious to the way Rhys tenses.
Or perhaps Kenneth doesn’t really care. “What are you doing here? Oh that’s right, Clayton has his therapy thing with the sophomores.
They’ve challenged him to add more color to his wardrobe.
Did you notice his green socks today?” Kenneth’s smile is so broad, his muddy eyes are alight with glee.
“He told you all of that?” I raise my brows. It’s not that I don’t expect Clay to talk to his roommate, but I only just heard of this counselling thing ten minutes ago. Kenneth tilts his head back and forth, his vibrant orange hair flopping around.
“He talks in his sleep. So what can I get you? We have a new frog-themed menu,” Kenneth points to the chalkboard overhead and talks me through each item.
Rhys is vibrating with impatience but I grip his hand tighter and make him wait it out.
Kenneth is just being good at his job, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Grinning at his lengthy explanations, I cut in to order before Rhys wrings Kenneth’s neck.
“I’ll have a maple leap latte, and a caramel swamp macchiato for Rhys.
” Kenneth looks at the tattooed man beside me for the first time, and dismisses him just as quickly.
The lack of trepidation in Kenneth’s face is interesting, but perhaps Clay has shared more in his sleep than he’s aware of.
Kenneth is being a good friend in having roommate’s back.
“Grab a seat and I’ll bring them over to you.”
Turning me away swiftly, Rhys’ jaw ticks as his gaze sweeps the room, searching for the table he’d like. I know in Rhys’ mind, that isn’t limited to vacant tables. When someone brushes past him reaching for a stirrer, he growls.
“Watch where you’re going.” The student freezes, stammers an apology, and retreats like he’s just brushed against a live wire. I roll my eyes, dragging him over to an empty table in the window.
“Can you not?” I whisper, keeping my tone low as I switch my hearing over to a microphone that Rhys clips onto the neck of his T-shirt. This way, it’s more streamlined to the person I’m having a conversation with, rather than flooding my skull with background noise. “You’re scaring people.”
“They should be scared,” he mutters, eyes narrowing at the group in the booth we sat in last time.
“Someone knows more than they should. I’m just waiting for them to slip up.
” Kenneth carries over a tray and sets down our coffees, along with a pecan pond pie on the house.
I smile as he retreats, waiting to be alone before speaking.
“Anything come back from the hacker this time?” I try to sound nonchalant.
Inside, I’m burning for answers as strongly as I’m fearing what those answers might be.
The bubble around me is growing thin, but I will live in it until I’m forced to do otherwise.
I want to be as normal as any girl who has two almost-boyfriends and trying to get the degree that might just kill her off before someone else gets the chance.
“He ran a trace on the guy that gave you the coffee before winter break,” Rhys says cryptically for anyone eavesdropping.
What he wants to say is, the guy who drugged and photographed us whilst unconscious, who he then proceeded to beat the shit out of without digging any deeper.
“The demand came from a burner phone and he was wire-transferred a good sum of money from an off-shore account. Another dead end that leads nowhere.”
“Who on campus would have an off-shore account and that kind of money lying around? Other than you, of course.” I scrunch up my nose as I stir my latte. In my peripheral vision, Rhys goes still. His icy blue eyes flicker with annoyance before he exhales through his nose.
“That’s the second accusation you’ve made of me. What am I, an unmuzzled dog or a psycho stalker?” The urge to roll my eyes is strong.
“What you are is on your man-period,” I reply.
Rhys leans back in his chair, the wooden legs creaking under his tension.
I sip my drink, watching him over the rim as he tries to get himself under control.
The micro expressions are twitching, the crease between his brows is contracting.
After a couple of minutes, Rhys exhales over the microphone and although it’s like a leaf blower going off in my head, I smile and reach for his hand.
I know he’s frustrated, but anger isn’t going to help.
It’s just going to suffocate both of us.
“Look, Addy has asked for my help. I want to be a good friend. You can support me in that, or you can let me go alone. Those are the two options.” I hold his stare, refusing to back down.
I know it’s na?ve to become comfortable, that the weeks of silence from this creep shouldn’t be taken lightly, but I can’t live on edge all of the time.
I can’t look over my shoulder forever, or as Rhys would prefer, hide in his frat house.
I need to live. “So…are you coming with me or not?”