Chapter Sixteen
“Give me my phone back.” I glare, planting my hands on my hips just to stop myself from punching Rhys in his smug face the second he steps into the locker room. I had to run back to my dorm for my damn receivers before spending two full hours hunting this tattooed asshole down.
In hindsight, I probably should have started with the basketball court instead of the gym, the pool, the girls’ locker room, and definitely before spying through the window of the cesspit he calls home. But whatever. I found him.
Rhys stands in the doorway and looks me over, a strange sense of happiness settling over him. I refuse to let my confusion show, entering a stare-off until I hold my hand out expectantly.
“Phone. Now.”
Chuckling to himself, Rhys peels off his jersey like he’s auditioning for a slow-motion shampoo commercial, dragging it up his chest with a casual flick of his wrist. My eyes roll so hard I almost sprain something.
He strolls to his locker and punches in the code.
After a full minute of unnecessary flexing, he finally slams the door shut and struts over with his usual shit-eating grin.
“You really should have a passcode, Babygirl.”
I snatch the phone out of his hand and immediately open all the apps I use daily, half-expecting to find everything rearranged or worse.
Surprisingly, there isn’t a single fake text.
No new photos, namely no dick pics. Weird.
I open the college messenger and see there’s also nothing new from Clay. I suppose that’s the end of that.
“I wouldn’t waste my time with him if I were you.
” Rhys peers at my screen, before reaching across and tapping the block button.
I cancel it right away, though I don’t know why I even care.
Rhys shrugs, his smile lopsided as he kicks off his sneakers and drops his shorts to the floor right in front of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I start to turn away, until something shiny catches my eye.
In fact, many shiny things. Rhys is pierced with a singular stud in the head of his dick, and a hint of a Jacob's ladder trailing the underside of his shaft. His tattoos trail all the way down to the base, swirling black lines that enhance his generous size. Holy hell. I stare, horrified and slightly fascinated, as his long cock twitches like it’s glad for the attention.
My face heats and I whip around instantly.
“No need to be shy. Next time you’re horny, save your batteries and come find me instead.”
“My vibrator’s rechargeable,” I shoot back, flipping him off over my shoulder and walking away. I got what I came for. The showers start up to my right, an instantaneous billow of steam thickening the air. Halfway out of the door, Rhys’ voice stops my feet in their tracks.
“Oh, before you go,” he calls out, humor lifting his tone, “I figured out what your payback can be.” I still with one hand pressed against the door. Everything in my head screams not to engage but my mouth moves regardless.
“Payback for what?” I play dumb. Rhys just laughs, and I lower my forehead against the cool door.
Whatever is about to happen, I know I should have just owned up to cheating on Peterson’s essay and taken the punishment.
Instead, I’m here, turning back and make my way toward the showers.
I lean against a metal door marked Coach’s Office, arms crossed, silently waiting for whatever nonsense Rhys is about to drop.
From this angle, I can see the back of Rhys.
His back ripples, the creamy skin untouched by ink.
It’s a stark contrast to his front, and my eyes trail south.
I’m headstrong to a fault, but even I can appreciate a cute butt when I see one.
It’s a refreshing side to Rhys, pun intended, to see him all soft edges and carefree without putting on an act.
Probably because he’s sensed I’m watching, Rhys takes his sweet time.
He lathers gel in his hands, spreads it across that artwork of a body, and lets the bubbles slide down until they swirl around the drain.
When he finally speaks again, it’s under the roar of the water, and I have to step closer just to hear him properly.
“I’m having my usual party after the game Friday. You’re going to be there.”
I scoff, shaking my head even though he’s not looking my way. I’ve been chasing him around campus for hours, bracing myself for the worst-case scenario, and he’s talking about his parties again? I can’t grasp why this is so important to him, why he cares if I attend or not.
“I hate parties,” I call back. Rhys is ready for my argument.
“Then your other option is to dress up like a cheerleader and chant my name during the game. Between you and me, I can’t stand cheerleaders.” He runs his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. Catching his side eye, I force myself to keep my eyes in an appropriate place.
“Why do you even want me there?” I throw up my hands.
“Another way to humiliate me? The poor little deaf girl who can’t hear the music.
” My jaw tightens, an insecurity coming to the surface before I can wrangle it back down.
Thankfully, Rhys is in his own little dream world as he shuts off the faucet.
“Maybe I want you close to my bed,” he says, smirking with that same arrogance that dares me to back out.
“Maybe I’ll bring a date,” I shoot back.
He crosses the space in an instant. Suddenly towering over me, close enough that I have to tip my chin up, a dare gleams in Rhys’ eyes.
The light fades into something darker. For a depraved second, I wonder what it’d feel like if he ever really let himself go.
Would he kiss me or strangle me? Why does either option intrigue me?
His chest rises and falls with tension, and I can see the war playing out across his face.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” he breathes. Droplets from his soaked hair hit my skin but I don’t flinch.
I lock onto those icy blue eyes, refusing to look anywhere else, especially not at the ink stretched across his bare chest or the ring in his lip he just teased with his tongue.
“I would be your date, and you will be mine. That’s my condition of saving your ass earlier. ”
“Why would you even want that? I’m literally nobody.
” Somehow my voice remains strong, but a small tremor threatens to rise at that last part.
For someone who has spent every waking minute of the past ten years trying to disappear, my psyche did not like professing that to Rhys.
His smirk is ever present, as if he’s withholding a dark secret.
“Harper Addams,” he chuckles, lifting a hand to tuck my hair behind my receiver. “I think you might be the most somebody I’ve ever met.”
Consider my brain short-circuited. A shudder rolls through me at his admission, my tongue darting out to touch a droplet that lands on my lip.
Rhys tracks the movement like an eagle, zeroed in on his prey.
My lashes flutter, the stretch of my neck putting me in prime position for Rhys to dip his head and close the few inches between us.
A shrill voice cuts through the room, slicing through my skull.
I wince, my hands flying up to my receivers.
Rhys catches them by the wrist, holding my hands softly against his damp chest. Klara storms straight up to her naked boyfriend like a blonde hurricane of fury.
Her black and yellow pom-poms lie abandoned on the floor, her cheer top printed with Rhys’s #1.
Rhys doesn’t seem to care for her presence, raising my hands to his mouth. He places slanted kisses on my knuckles, time freezing in place. Both Klara and I are stunned, playing along with Rhys’ whims. He drops his face to my hearing aid, his wet fingers easing my hair aside.
“I’ll see you at the party,” he whispers before slinking back into the shower and turning the water on once more. From the brief glance I couldn’t resist, it appears he’ll be having a cold shower this time.
Also ignoring Klara, because what the fuck am I supposed to say about anything that just happened, I stride away and successfully walk through the fire exit this time.
The sun momentarily blinds me, the freshness of the air almost sending my lungs into shock.
Making my way to the bottom on the hill, I pass a group of girls cackling like witches whilst admiring each other’s hair and nails with fake smiles.
I register their cheer outfits, deciding to give them a wide berth, when Klara strikes once again.
“Get that whore!” Klara’s scream travels from the locker room doorway, pointing my way.
All heads turn her way at once, mine included.
I barely have time for my mouth to part before the band of cheerleaders turn as a unit, their faces twisted like dried up prunes.
They lunge forward to grab at me, but I jerk back, quickly sizing up their inappropriate footwear for the winter.
I salute them a ‘good luck catching me in kitten heels,’ and take off in the direction of the science block.
Their angry cries echo behind me as they give chase.
I yank my backpack straps tighter and dodge through the crowd of students milling around without a care.
Skirting the edge of the courtyard, I duck behind planters and weave between stragglers, aiming for the white building up ahead.
Not because I think they could actually hurt me, but because getting dog-piled by a swarm of petty Barbie clones isn’t high on my bucket list.