Chapter Sixteen #2
Jumping through the open doorway as a guy opens it, I skid around the corner and slow to a walk passing the lockers.
At the far end, a living barbie doll appears with clenched teeth and a scowl that could melt iron.
Clearly my advantage in speed is overshadowed by their knowledge of the campus.
A group of students appear at my back, blocking me in and leaving me no choice but to race up the staircase on my left.
Further away from the dorms I wish I was heading toward, but I didn’t want to lead these psychos directly to mine and Addy’s door.
I don’t know the layout up here, but I figure the halls will form a rectangle like the floor below. My moment’s hesitation costs me as several pairs of heels click against the stairs. Fuck, these girls are delusional and relentless.
Darting to the right, I ignore the closed doors lining each side, anticipating each one will be locked.
The professors are long gone. A row of blue lockers sits against the wall opposite huge windows.
I scowl at the stadium visible through the glass, the image of Rhys carefree and naked in the shower definitely not filling my mind.
Not letting up my speed, the squeak of my boots on the shiny flooring makes me wince.
The overhead lights buzz faintly, casting too-bright reflections on the floor that make it feel like I’m running through a fishbowl.
I tear around the corner that should mark the halfway point in the circuit and slam straight into a closed door. Dammit, a dead end.
Pain blooms across my chest and forearms but luckily I manage to avoid hitting my face.
I rest my palms on the wood, taking a breather.
Surely there’s a way we can talk through this.
I didn’t even do anything with Rhys...except stand before his naked body with my face angled upwards for a kiss when his girlfriend walked in.
Yeah okay, not my finest moment. The hallway behind me stretches empty for a moment, and then I hear them.
Multiple pairs of heels click against the tile, the shrill sound of laughter not far behind.
“Harper,” one of them sings overly sweet. “We just want to talk.”
I dart to the nearest classroom and twist the handle, finding it locked like I knew it would be.
The rhythmic slam of locker doors opening and closing echoes down the corridor, as if they’re searching every possible hiding spot they can reach.
Another voice joins the first, this one tinged with amusement.
“She ran this way, I swear. You check left. I’ll check this hall.
” My pulse hammers against my neck. These crazy bitches are going to tear my face off up here and there’s nothing I can do about it.
There’s a short distance between me and the opposite hallway which will leave me exposed, but standing here is as good as admitting defeat, so I bolt.
One of them shouts that she saw movement, and their footsteps grow louder.
I reach another junction and choose right again, running blindly now, my eyes skimming the wall for something, anything.
Online yoga has done nothing to prepare me for this kind of exertion.
My legs burn with desperation, threatening to be my downfall.
My lungs tighten with each breath, the corners of my vision slightly graying from the effort and the rising panic.
For the hundredth time since Rhys steamrolled into my life, I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing. Running from aggressive cheerleaders, and apparently attending a Friday night party as his date, where said cheerleaders will most likely be. So much for a low profile.
The second floor is beginning to feel like a maze with no exit.
My legs are slowing. I swipe sweat from my brow and focus on the sliver of hope up ahead, a narrow alcove or doorway.
I stumble toward it, praying it’s more than another locked janitor’s closet.
Just as my fingers grace the handle, a whisper of a shadow from behind startles me.
Before I can scream, a hand clamps over my mouth, the door is torn open and I’m yanked into the dark.
The girth and strength of the arm snaking around my middle is undeniable, pinning my back against a firm torso that can’t possibly belong to a female.
My struggles are fruitless, but that doesn’t stop me from twisting and kicking out.
I’m caged in a hold like steel, the hand remaining tightly closed over my mouth.
After a beat, his other hand raises to my hair and feels for the receiver clinging behind my ear. A relieved sigh sinks in his chest.
“It’s me, it’s Clayton,” he whispers when he realizes I can hear him.
With that knowledge, the atmosphere in the closet suddenly changes.
The panic doesn't vanish, but it shifts.
My heart continues to pound like a war drum in my chest, yet something in me goes slack at the sound of his voice.
I stop kicking. I stop writhing. Every muscle holds rigid as the reality of who is holding me begins to settle.
Another man who is turning my world on its axis.
It's impossible not to compare Clay and Rhys, considering they’ve both had hands on me in the past half hour. Where Rhys’ touch was teasing, trying to evoke a reaction, Clayton holds me firm. Protectively. His instincts override his desire to be solitary. His hero complex can’t seem to leave me be.
Clay’s breath brushes the shell of my ear, warm and quick, his chest rising and falling in short bursts against my back.
The closet is so tight I can feel the thump of his pulse where his wrist presses against my ribcage.
Darkness stretches in every direction, and the feeling of safety envelopes me thoroughly.
Outside, footsteps drag past the door. One of the cheerleaders mutters something about splitting up again.
Another whines about catching her heel on the stairs.
The tension in Clay’s body tightens, seeking to cover every inch of me as if we’re on a battlefield.
I focus on the rhythm of his breathing, acutely aware of every place our bodies are touching, and quickly become less concerned about the girls outside.
They can find us for all I care, I know I won’t be taking the brunt of their outrage and gossip alone.
We wait a minute. Maybe two. The voices grow distant.
The click of heels fade. Clay’s fingers drift, pushing down on my shoulder as he leans over just enough to peer through the crack between the door and the frame.
I can no longer hear anything beyond the wood, yet I don’t breathe.
I don’t move. For whatever reason of being too headstrong for too long, I don’t want Clay to stop holding me like this.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, Clay’s warmth seeping through my back. I breathe in his woodsy scent, rest about his tightly corded muscles. Turning my head ever so slightly, the stubble on his jaw grazes my cheek. My veins set alight with a newfound energy.
“Clay.” I clear my throat as quietly as possible, hoping the flush in my cheeks will die down before I have to face him properly. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then his mouth shifts to brush the edge of my hair.
“I use one of the chemistry labs for extra study, Peterson gave me a key. When you jostled the door handle, I saw you were being chased so I sent them the wrong way and waited here in case you realized it was a dead end. I didn’t think they’d come back around so quickly.”
I turn my head further, enough to catch the outline of his jaw and the fabric curve of his beanie.
The tension between us shifts again, less from danger and more from awareness.
I feel it in the way my spine arches as his hand drops to my hip, lingering a little longer than it needs to.
The shift has brought another sensation to life, one that is now pressing against the curve of my ass. Oopsie.
Twisting to put an inch of distance between us, I turn the handle and half spill out into the hallway. The light spills over us in a harsh flood. My eyes instantly fly south, checking out Clayton’s gray sweatpants and a curtain of warmth covers my face. “Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Blinking downwards, Clay flinches and gasps at the same time.
“Oh god, no. No. No, it’s a banana. I skipped lunch.
” Completely avoiding my eye line, he pulls the offensive fruit from his sweatpants pocket.
The peel is squashed and bruised, a sad sight from my ass grinding all over it.
“Not to say…no, just not…this time? Gah.” Clay rubs the back of his beanie while his face reddens.
I press my lips together to hold in the trickle of laughter that wants to break free.
I don’t know which one of us wants the ground to open up and swallow us more.
Tugging his beanie further down, Clayton turns to leave, probably to go rethink his entire existence, and I almost let him.
Almost. But beneath the crushing embarrassment we’re both feeling, a flicker of clarity cuts through.
I need to stop this. Not just this moment, but all of it. The close calls, the cramped hiding spaces, the ridiculously charged silences with the two guys I should be running from, not flirting with in dark cupboards.
“Sorry for ruining your study time, and thanks for the rescue,” I offer weakly. “I’m sure I won’t need any more.” An attempt at a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. Halting his stride, Clay looks over his shoulder at me, a strange sort of misery in his eyes.
“Yes you will,” he nods. I tilt my head, straining my receiver. Is that disappointment in his voice? “As long as you keep humoring Wavershit, you’re always going to need rescuing.”
The breath is knocked out of me, a fresh flame of embarrassment rising within.
I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why the cheerleaders were chasing me around campus, but the dejected way Clayton says it adds a new layer to the mix.
Am I so easy to read? Or am I a walking cliché?
The new girl catching the attention of the bully.
Clay walks away, leaving me questioning my life choices but he’s right. I will continue to need saving and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to be Rhys’ date on Friday after all.