Chapter Eight
A spoonful of granola is halfway to my mouth when I realize everyone is staring at me.
As in, everyone. A whole cafeteria’s worth of eyes focused on my face, some with open mouths, some with bitchy stares.
My receivers are safely tucked away in my jacket pocket, but even without them I can tell the atmosphere in here is deafeningly quiet. What did I miss?
Placing the spoon down, I ignore the blush igniting on my cheeks and silence the podcast streaming into my implants.
I spot a notification on the screen just before a flash of fuchsia catches my attention across the table.
A panicked-looking Addy signing ‘Cum Stain knows about you,’ a moment before Rhys shoves his way through the crowd. Oh shit.
He stops right in front of the table, his light blue eyes assessing me as if seeing me for the first time.
For some inexplicable reason, his thick parka jacket is wide open, framing a bare chest inked in sprawling tattoos.
The longer I’m unable to look away, the clearer his defined abs become visible like a hidden illusion.
Remembering we are not alone, I force myself to refocus on his face.
His hair is ruffled as if he’s either barely slept or rolled out of bed late. The blonde rushing up behind to cling onto his arm suggests that he didn’t wake up alone. I’m not surprised by his actions, but I am surprised by the punch of jealousy I feel in my gut.
The moment stretches on under the weight of everyone watching, my fingers fidgeting beneath the table. Chewing on his lip ring, Rhys finally speaks, although the words that leave his mouth are ones I loathe more than anything in the world.
“You don’t look disabled.”
My teeth grit instantly, my appetite vanishing.
This is it, the moment I knew would come.
Everyone is watching, waiting for me to show the cards I’ve been holding close to my chest. As if the second I’ve been publicly called out, I’m going to become the incompetent deaf mess they expect.
Slurring my words and fumbling with my fingers, no thank you.
I’ve spent far too long working myself up to be here, and the last person who is going to make me doubt myself is Rhys.
I stand on a long exhale. Narrowing my eyes on his, I speak as clearly as I am able without hearing myself.
“And you don’t look like a judgmental cock but here we are.” There’s a collective inhale around us. I don’t have to hear it to feel it. In my mind, I can picture the sharp clatter of cutlery dropping. The wide-eyed, open-mouthed whispers.
The blonde clutching his arm shoots daggers at me but her companion doesn’t seem to notice she’s even there. Instead his smile is widening, until his whole face has lit up like a psychotic Christmas tree. I hold my nerve, no matter how long Rhys holds my stare, smiling like a damn clown.
Suddenly, he throws his head back and laughs.
His entire chest rumbles, his shoulders shaking as he shrugs out of the blonde’s grip.
I glance back to Addy, who shrugs with the same confusion I’m feeling.
That everyone in the room is feeling. My eyes fall back upon the man still laughing at his own joke, creating an atmosphere that starts and stops around himself, and that’s when I realize what he’s doing.
What he always does. Rhys is putting on a show.
Ignoring the hundred or so gawking spectators and the girl with designer nails still trying to stake a claim, Rhys steps towards me.
I brace myself, for what I’m not sure, but not for the heavy arm he drops around my shoulders.
His rich scent wraps around me instantly.
The fur of his jacket hood tickles my face, the warmth radiating from him lighting me on fire.
Pushing through the gawking crowd, Rhys drags me along in his hold, strings of laughter still rumbling through his chest.
It doesn’t occur to me to dig my heels in, wanting to be out of the public eye in any way possible.
Thankfully, Addy has her brain switched on.
She intercepts us near the open doorway, swiftly planting herself in the way.
She jabs a finger into Rhys’s chest, venting at him whilst I use the distraction to sneak my receivers beneath my hair and snap the magnets softly into place.
“-needs to be in Peterson’s class in ten minutes so save your bullshit until later.
” Addy pops her hip and reaches out to grab my hand.
I’m surprised Rhys allows her to pull me out of his hold so easily.
Trying not to dwell on the sudden loss of his warmth beside me, I brave a glance up to his humored expression.
“Don’t forget you’re my date for tonight’s party, Babygirl.” He winks. A fresh wave of heat colors my cheeks as Addy pulls me away. We escape into the crisp morning and follow the building round to a hidden alcove at the back.
“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Addy bops up and down, shoving my forgotten backpack into my arms. “I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to Rhys like that before!
I didn’t know if he was going to kiss or strangle you.
” I blink several times as those images get crossed in my mind and force out a shaky laugh.
“Yeah well, I’m not going to stroke his ego like everyone else around here. Although, I do actually have to get to class,” I go to take a step but Addy yanks me back. The flicks of her pink waves brush my cheeks as she leans into me, her voice dropping.
“Before you go, just let me say this. Do be careful. Rhys may seem impressed this time, but I’ve heard stories.
Apparently in fresher’s week, he trapped a girl in a coffin and sat on top of it all night while she screamed to be let out.
He can be a real nasty piece of shit when he wants to be.
” Her chocolate eyes level me with an even stare, no trace of humor in her tone.
My stomach flips but I manage to nod easily.
“I plan on staying as far away from him as possible, but thanks for the heads up.” Releasing my hand, Addy blows me a kiss and heads towards the drama block across campus while I slump back to the science building.
Students fill the corridors, bustling by to get to class but I don’t miss the curious glances thrown my way.
So much for staying under the radar. Heat begins to crawl up the back of my neck, the urge to run away from prying eyes growing.
Slipping into the girl’s bathroom, I duck into a cubicle and lean against the closed door.
Just breathe, Harper.
It’s probably best this way. Once the fascination has passed, everyone can go back to ignoring me and I can have a half-decent college experience from the shadows.
Wait, no. That’s not why I came here. I won’t hide.
I will thrive on their misconceptions, prove to everyone I don’t need my hearing to succeed.
Squaring my shoulders, I throw the door open and come nose to nose with a blue-eyed glare that could cut glass.
I recognize her as the girl hanging from Rhys’ arm.
Her hair shines like liquid gold spilling onto her unnecessarily exposed cleavage.
Her pink lipstick matches the barbie-style mini dress she must be freezing in beneath a white fur coat, but her hands-on-hips stance doesn’t show it.
When she doesn’t move or speak, I step around her until she snatches my arm tight enough for her talons to mark my leather jacket.
“What the hell is your problem?” I yell. She grabs a chunk of my hair to tug me back to face her sneer, her chest heaving.
“Keep your hands and eyes off my boyfriend,” she barks. I’m momentarily struck speechless, unsure at what point of the exchange in the cafeteria she thought I was making a move on Rhys.
“Are you serious right now?!” Twisting my hair free, I shove her hard. She stumbles in her heeled boots, knocking against the basins. “Trust me, he’s all yours. Every bitter word and pathetic payback. You suit each other.”
Her screech hurts my head as she lunges for me again, but I manage to duck aside and witness her falling into the cubicle doors. Leaving her screaming behind the closed door, I jog through the now empty hallway to class.
I’m not used to so much, if any, drama before ten in the morning but at least it’s done with now.
No more lies or secrets. Everything is out in the open for the world to take or leave, I’m just going to keep being me.
At least I have the distraction of Biochem and an afternoon of lectures to distract me.
Reaching the lab, I mutter an apology for being late, turning on my phone’s mic and placing the device on the professor’s desk.
Rushing for my usual stool, I pull up short to find it occupied by the still-bare tattooed torso I was hoping to avoid.
Thrumming his tattooed fingers on the desk, Rhys is smirking mischievously as Peterson walks over to greet me.
“Ahh, there you are.” The professor shifts from foot to foot nervously, his hands wringing the edge of his white coat. “Master Waversea has decided to rejoin our classes, and has requested you to be his lab partner for the remainder of this semester.”
Rhys’s smile grows impossibly wider, his lip ring glinting in the light.
I’m sure it’s thrilling to have the power to control people like puppets, or to have the amount of money that makes others feel inferior.
But if there’s one lesson Master Waversea is going to learn today, it’s that I won’t be intimidated or bought by him.
“Is that so? Well, unfortunately, I would like a partner who will put in half the effort so I’ll graciously decline.”
Rhys’s eyebrow raises but he only appears more interested as I curtsey in mockery. Peterson’s voice fills my head and blocks out everyone else as I stride through the tables, heading for an empty stool at the back of the room.
Taking my notebook and highlighters from my bag, I sit to listen to the lecture, despite the prickling apprehension I’m being watched. A certain type of heat is beaming over the left side of my face, drawing my attention to my neighbor. My gut flips and the air locks in my lungs.
Orbs of onyx black trap me, holding me captive. Stubble trails his strong jawline, his full lips sit slightly parted. His blond hair is trapped beneath a beanie hat, like the first time I laid eyes on him.
“-did you catch that, Miss Addams?” Peterson’s voice filling my head jars me from my exploration of Clayton’s broad shoulders in an army jacket.
Giving myself a little shake, I quickly relay the parts which filtered through my daze and he continues his lesson with a small nod.
Daring another look sideways, Clayton has hunched over his workbook in a way that totally blocks me from his view.
That’s for the best. My libido is telling me all sorts of conflicting stories right now.
I lose myself in the study of enzyme reaction rates, preferring what’s written in black and white.
What’s clinical and factual. I underline keywords in violet, highlight transitions in gold, and circle concepts I don’t quite grasp yet, etching asterisks in the margins to come back to later.
Thankfully, time slips past unnoticed, my page now a battlefield of arrows and color-coded logic.
It’s only when a wall of bodies blocks the whiteboard that I realize the lesson’s over. Chairs scrape. Voices rise. The lecture hall begins to empty, everyone knowing they have other places to be. Except for Rhys.
Spinning around on his stool, he kicks his feet up on the desk and watches me, his usual smirk in place.
I try to ignore him, but as the class files out, my attention is drawn back to the way he is dragging his thumb along his bottom lip.
Peterson rushes passed in a flurry of white, dropping my phone before me and scurrying out of a fire door at the back of the room as if a bomb is about to detonate. Perhaps I should take the hint.
“It’s about time you fucked off too,” Rhys’s deep voice makes me jump as it filters across the room. Opening my mouth in protest, movement shifts to my left and I realize Mr. Broad and Brooding is still sitting beside me.
“Nah, I’m good here,” Clayton replies, nonchalantly. His voice sounds much louder as my phone is sitting directly between us, his rich baritone rolling through my skull. It’s smooth, and considering it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak, rather delicious. Enough of that.
Deactivating my phone’s mic, I switch to my receivers.
My hair rustles against them in a way that still makes me cringe.
Rhys pushes himself upright and moves towards us in a slow prowl, knocking every book off each desk as he goes.
Stopping at the edge of my table, Rhys cracks his inked fingers together in a clear threat, his eyes narrowing on the guy to my left.
“I said, fuck off.”
“And I said no.”
I barely manage to suppress the shudder that rolls down my spine.
Attempting to rise from my stool, a hand from either side lashes out to clamp down on my shoulder or thigh to hold me in place.
I gasp, both at the atmosphere and at their desires to keep me here, acting as the buffer between them.
Heat oozes from each tensed palm, colliding with a mix of raw masculine power and a darker undertone.
The air crackles with tension as the moment stretches out, the feeling that I’m a chunk of meat sitting in the middle of two lions seeping into my bones.
Eventually, Rhys releases my shoulder and slides himself forwards until he’s resting on his forearms on the desk in front of me, his face inches from mine. With the slightest tilt of his head to look directly into my eyes, his lips are merely a breath away.
“Tell him to leave,” he says in a little more than a whisper.
The hand on my thigh retracts, Clayton’s back straightening in determination as if he’s decided to remain no matter what I say.
Opening and closing my mouth, I give Rhys a barely visible shake of my head which causes him to sigh dramatically.
Then the smile rolls back around, this one holding the threat of malice.
“Oh, Babygirl. I don’t think you meant to, but you’ve just picked a side. And it’s the wrong one.”