Chapter Thirty One
The hallway smells faintly of coffee and dashed hope, students dragging their feet away from the lure of the cafeteria.
I’m amongst them, clinging to the strap of my backpack and trying to remember the reasons I left Aunt’s Marg’s dusty attic.
Things were simpler there. Online coursework was easier, and my friendships were mostly virtual.
I’ve never had to deal with walking into a room and wondering who is out to get me, and why.
Due to the ongoing investigation, Peterson’s classes have been moved to an adjacent building to be led by Professor Hargreaves. Rumor has it his lab and onsite apartment are being ransacked, the police becoming frantic in their search for the device that interfered with my implants.
I can’t believe Peterson has anything to do with it, even if he does think I’m merely a distraction to his class.
It was too risky. There were too many witnesses who would have noticed his absence.
No, whoever attacked me was able to disappear without being noticed.
Someone who lives under the radar. Not for much longer, if I have anything to say about it.
Steadying myself, I push the door open because avoidance is no longer a luxury I can afford.
The lecture hall is half-full, a scatter of hoodies and backpacks spread evenly across the faded blue seats.
Rhys is lounging with the ease he wears like a second skin, one arm slung over the back of a chair no doubt intended for me.
Clay is the opposite, rigid on the edge of his seat, all contained tension and careful eyes.
My chest tightens at the sight of them near one another without fists between thrown and blood being spilled.
Rhys appears more invested in his cuticles and Clay is jotting in his notebook.
Making my way through the aisles, I catalogue each student, on high alert for a hint of a sneer or feigned shock.
This is my first class back, and someone amongst these masses didn’t want me here.
Or perhaps it’s who isn’t present I should be focusing on.
By the time I make it to my seat, I sag with deflation, my head swimming.
I don’t know these people well enough. I was too content staying wrapped in my silent world, I didn’t bother to notice those around me.
Clayton nudges closer, the movement so small I almost miss it, but his heat at my shoulder is impossible to ignore.
He slides a disposable cup of coffee into my hands and retreats before anyone notices.
I smile then. It’s like our texted conversations each night.
Private, secret, and solely ours. My fingers close around the cardboard, grateful for the warmth that seeps through me as I take a sip.
Over the rim of the cup, I slyly watch Clay finish his notes.
There is a new ease about him now I’m near, a softness in his eyes that betrays the monster everyone assumes he is.
He says nothing as Hargreaves clears his throat and launches into a dry lecture about electrophysiology, but his presence is everything I need to get through it.
On my other side, Rhys’ knuckles brush the back of my chair, a ghost of contact to remind me that he’s there. As if I could forget. I turn my head to the side and drop my voice to a whisper.
“How was your lunch with the Kavanagh’s?”
Rhys rolls his tongue over his lip ring, just about covering up the bitterness that ripples through him.
“You’d know if you came over last night, as requested.”
“Oh, that was a request? I thought it was an order. I’ve never been very good dealing with authority.”
“I heard practice makes perfect. Let’s try again. Come over to mine tonight, or else.”
I lean back against the seat and let a grin spread slowly across my face, enjoying the small, wicked pleasure of riling him up so early in the morning. I half-expected him to chase me down last night and drag me back to his, kicking and screaming.
“I thought I should give you space, you know, in case Klara wanted to—” Rhys’ hand shoots from the chair to the back of my neck. A low growl emanates from his chest, startling a few nearby students. I simply chuckle beneath the firm hold at my nape.
“You want me to work harder, is that it? Send you flowers, little love notes under your door? Maybe I'll put a little apron on and bake you cupcakes?"
"Quiet back there!" Hargreaves shouts, his whiteboard now a blurred landscape of arrows and brackets. I sink lower in my seat, covering my mouth behind my hand.
“Now that you mention it,” I mutter low, my cheeks aching with the need to laugh. “You could give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?” Rhys shoots a death stare at the side of my face,
“Hard pass. If you want sappy shit, you know where to find it,” Rhys leans forward and glares in Clayton’s direction. Clay’s throat bobs, his temper working its way to the surface. I give him a sly wink until Rhys uses his grip on my nape to jerk me back forward.
“Focus. I’m here for your sake, not mine.
” I bite down on my bottom lip, mustering the sarcastic response that dances on the end of my tongue.
Rhys won’t realize it, but that’s probably the most romantic thing he’s ever said.
Settling into Hargreaves’ bland drone, I make vague notes, scribbling random words that might be relevant in a future assignment, but let’s face it.
My attention is on those shifting in closer, a millimeter at a time.
Rhys rearranges his junk, pushing his thighs wider.
Clay fakes a yawn and smacks Rhys’ arm off the back of my chair.
I’ve been trapped between them like this before, but thankfully the tension is lighter now.
Instead of being at each other’s throats, they’re resolute on being my sentinel bodyguards, warding off external threats.
No one dares to look around for more than a second, giving me time to memorize each person in the room.
Soon enough, my jottings turn into a list of names and in failing that, a brief description.
After that, I start crossing out names that have no reason to harm me.
Class ends as I cross out the last name, coming to a dead end.
Moving to pack my stuff away, Rhys grabs my notepad and tears the scribbled page clean out. I call out in protest, reaching for it back but he scrunches it up in his fist and tosses it aside.
“Stop worrying. I’ve got someone already on the case.”
“Who?” I frown, crossing my arms. I’ll be the first to admit I’m stubborn to a fault, preferring to save myself than rely on others, but something else about Rhys’ nonchalant shrug doesn’t sit right with me.
“An online hacker. Highly overpriced, but he’s the best there is.
If there’s anything to find on the surveillance cameras, he’ll find it.
” Under my careful watch, Rhys packs the rest of my bag and shoulders it himself, jerking his head to the exit.
I might as well be wearing that collar I stung him up on.
I hang back with Clay, my thoughts suddenly colliding.
A small voice trickles into my psyche, reminding me that there were two names I didn’t put on that list. Clayton and Rhys.
Clay ruled himself out by being the one who rushed back to save me, and I know Rhys was supposedly outside smoking, but what if he wasn’t?
What if I’m giving my trust far too easily to a man who, by his own admission, doesn’t deserve it?
How convenient would it be to leave my digging in the hands of an anonymous hacker, especially if the man he’s tracking is the man sending the paycheck - if the hacker is even real.
No, that’s ludicrous. I know Rhys, possibly better than anyone else, and I owe it to him not to think the worst all the time.
“Harper,” Clay gently shakes my shoulder.
I blink, returning to myself. Rhys has vanished, taking my belongings and my phone with him.
I open my mouth, stuttering until Clay links his fingers with mine.
“Do you…I mean, is it what you want…the sappy shit?” he winces, his eyes looking everywhere except at me.
The room has emptied out, leaving just us in the huge lecture hall.
“What exactly are you asking me?” I tilt my head until he has no choice but to stare into my eyes. Squeezing his fingers, I smile tenderly, yet the breath that saws out of Clay isn’t a light one.
“I can’t stand back and watch any longer.
” His jaw tenses and I reach up to soften it.
Clay turns his face into my palm, brushing his lips over my skin.
“I’m not a good man. I’ve done things I’ll never be able to fix.
I live with regret and shame on a daily basis.
But I know deep down, I’m still better than him. ”
I keep my mouth pressed closed, allowing Clayton the space he needs to speak freely.
That, and I won’t be caught bad mouthing one of the men holding my interest to the other.
They’re both damaged in their own right, and they cope differently.
Clay shakes the tension from his shoulders and lowers my hand to his chest.
“I won’t make you any false promises, but I can show you the kind of man you deserve. The only kind that should catch your attention and have your heart one day. So, if you want, I’ll pick you up from outside your dorm tonight. Say seven o’clock?”
“Okay,” I reply simply, finding myself in a daze.
Clay just asked me out. For a second, the whole lecture hall shrinks to the space between my palm and Clay’s chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat a perfect anchor for the storm brewing inside of me.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Dizzying, exciting, a hint of anxiety. Not a constant migraine from being pulled here and there whilst a bucket of lust is dumped over my head.
He smiles in that quiet, almost embarrassed way he does and nods, before releasing my hands and starts to walk away.
My mouth opens a few times with follow up questions but I manage to reign myself in.
Be cool Harper. Cool, calm and collected.
Clay pauses in the doorway, the hallway light catching at the edge of his jaw.
“Oh, and don’t worry about bringing your receivers. You won’t need them.”
Okay, now I have so many more questions!
Luckily for him, Clayton leaves before any of them make it past my lips.
I stumble forward on weak legs, feeling all too giddy for a girl who still needs to reclaim her shit from the campus bully.
I hope Rhys isn’t intent on getting a rise out of me today because I’m too busy walking on cloud nine.
It turns out I do want the sappy shit after all.