Chapter Thirty Seven
Harper’s tongue pokes out in concentration as she lowers each careful drop of potassium ferrocyanide into the diluted sulphate. She leans in close, eyes narrowed, waiting for the shift. The liquid deepens into a royal blue and she beams at me like I had a single thing to do with it.
I’ve point-blank refused to contribute all lesson. The fact that I arrived here with her is insult to my reputation enough. Setting me in a self-destructive mood, I’ve spent that last forty minutes trying to shift the power balance back to normal.
Switch her chemicals when she isn’t looking, scattering her notes across the floor.
Although that just gave me a perfect view of her ass in those tight leggings.
On her phone between us, I’ve turned off her microphone app twice.
If only I can get her to yell or slap me, if I get any rise at all, I’m sure I’ll stop.
I just need that palette cleanser to settle the jittering inside of me, which has absolutely nothing to do with the decision I made while she slept in my bed again last night.
I woke before the sun, sheets tangled around our legs, her scent still clinging to my skin like a brand I can’t scrub off.
Not that I didn’t try in the shower for forty five minutes.
I let her in too far, let her strip away the armor I’ve spent years perfecting.
Now, l’m raw and exposed in a way I don’t fucking recognize.
I don’t know how to live in a world where she holds that kind of power over me.
But as per usual, Harper isn’t one to be goaded easily. She just steadies her breath and carries on, like a soldier trudging through the battlefield. And in the end, she rewards me with a smile that empties my lungs and fills them all at once.
I can’t say I’m surprised. Her resilience is part of her allure.
It’s carved into her bones and tattooed across her soul.
She doesn’t shatter when pushed, she refines.
I need to keep pressing, keep tearing at the edges of her calm until she has no choice but to react.
When she does, when her power burns bright through the cracks I’ve made, I swear it is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
Peterson cuts the lesson short, checking his watch like he has somewhere better to be, and slips out the door.
Students shuffle into line for the basin.
Harper gathers her test tubes, carrying them across the room where Clayton is already stationed, sleeves rolled up like some golden boy hero.
He takes her rack without hesitation, no pun intended, rinsing her glassware while she stands close, smiling at something he says.
Her hand drifts to his arm, a soft laugh escaping her lips.
My jaw locks until my teeth threaten to crack. Bile licks the back of my throat. How the fuck does he hold her attention when he doesn’t understand a single piece of her? He doesn’t push her. He doesn’t force her to prove herself. He doesn’t give her the gift of pain that makes her shine.
I watch her laugh while I sit here with my chest tearing itself apart and wonder how long it will take before she finally recognizes what it is she really needs. Not his shielding. Not his comfort. She just needs…me.
Class empties one by one, voices rising with relief at the promise of lunch.
Harper clears every trace of her presence but leaves my mess scattered across the bench, her satisfied grin marking it as deliberate.
When she shoulders her backpack, Clayton swoops in to accompany her, only to find me stepping into his way.
“You go ahead, Babygirl,” I tell her, leaning casually against the table. “Dr. Jekyll and I have business to discuss.” Clayton visibly bristles, his shoulders squaring and an impatient breath humming through his nose. Harper hesitates, her eyes flicking between us both standing either side of her.
“Are you going to behave yourself?” she asks me. I roll my eyes.
“Never.” A flash of red appears, his freckled face stretched wide with a serial killer’s smile. Dickerson fumbles with his bag strap whilst addressing Harper.
“I’m heading to the cafeteria if you want to come with.
We can save Clayton a seat.” He offers her a clammy hand and I slap it away.
Harper is quick to glare at me and finally, at fucking last, a tremor rolls down my spine.
If hurting Dickerson is what gets a rise out of Harper, I could rid him of all his teeth.
Sweeping him out of my reach, Harper tells Clayton to come find her at lunch and leaves me alone with my longtime rival. Waiting for the door to click shut, I crack my neck, gearing myself up for what might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
“We have a problem.” I state evenly, hopping back onto my stool.
“My thoughts exactly,” Clayton growls and drops his bag to the floor to take a fighter’s stance. “You keep wasting my fucking time.”
“Relax. We’re not going to fight today.” I chew my lip ring, savoring the bite of metal on flesh as I rein in the urge to lunge across the aisle.
It’s truly not my intention to fight, but I could be convinced quite easily.
Especially after Harper refused to take the bait all lesson, leaving me pent-up.
I swear I need her hostility as much as I need her sweet pussy, but I digress.
“We’re going to resolve this the civilized way.
Take a seat,” I demand. Clayton scoffs but he lowers onto a stool across the aisle, crossing his arms and raising a bored brow.
“I’m going to offer you a one-time deal which expires the moment you step out of this room.
We both have something the other wants, so a simple trade should suffice. ”
“What the hell could I have that you would want? You’ve already have everything.” Clay’s eyes narrow, his distaste for me palpable.
“Apparently not,” I drawl, resting my forearms on the desk. “Having everything makes it impossible to really want anything. Nothing holds my interest. Except lately, I’ve found a rare possession that I’ve decided I want to keep.”
Clayton’s shoulders bunch as he realizes exactly what, or rather who, I’m referring to.
“She’s not a possession. You can’t own her.” My lips curl into a slow smile. Oh, but I can.
Clayton lives in a fake version of the world, where people’s choices aren’t dictated by others.
I’ve had every decision made for me my entire life.
My future is already set on who I’m supposed to marry, what job I’ll have, where I’ll live.
I’m a dog on a chain, living out his last few years of freedom until his master jerks on the leash.
That’s if I haven’t managed to destroy my father and everything he stands for by then.
And then Harper appears. Sweet, unfathomable Harper.
The temptress who has shifted my perception, who has given me an out from the world I despise.
She’s smart, beautiful, stubborn in a way that makes me yearn for a moment of her attention.
Imagine if I had all of it. Imagine if, after I’ve burnt my father’s mansion to the ground with him inside it, she was standing by my side, bathed in ash and desire.
My mind runs away with me, much like it has been lately, and Clayton clears his throat. Oh yeah, loose ends to tie up.
“Your mom has extortionate debts, is that right? And the care home fees. They must be a killer.” A tick beats in his jaw, causing my smirk to widen.
Rule 101 in destroying your enemy, know everything.
“And even if you do graduate, that juvie record will haunt you everywhere you go. It looks like I’m not the only one with a noose around his neck. ”
“What exactly is it you’re offering?” Clayton frowns, his posture guarded. I lift my shoulders in a shrug, pretending that I haven’t already set this plan in motion by calling the bank and a solicitor this morning.
“Your mom’s debts cleared and her care fees paid up for the next five years. I’ll have your record redacted, and your scholarship moved to an online, off-campus, program. All you have to do it pack your shit and fuck off before nightfall.”
I watch the weight of my words pass through his face. The way his eyes flicker, thoughts running a million miles a minute. This is more than he could have ever hoped for. An easy solution to all of his problems. Releasing his arms to let them hang by his side, Clayton inhales deeply.
“No.”
For a moment, I stare at him, waiting for the word to rearrange itself into a hell yeah. I expected hesitation. A flicker of doubt at the very least. Maybe even greed, demanding more. Yet he simply holds my gaze, far too steadily for a man who just threw away the chance at a fresh start.
“Apparently, you don’t understand,” I say mockingly. “I’m handing you a fucking life raft while you’re already drowning.” Clayton leans forward, his black eyes burning into mine.
“No, Rhys, it’s you who doesn’t understand. Some of us don’t sit around waiting to be handed everything, and not everyone can be bought. I haven’t come this far just to throw it all away.”
“Throw what away?!” I throw my head back and cackle. “You have nothing. You are nothing.”
“It might look that way to you,” Clayton stands and gives me a look that’s too close to pity for my liking. Why the fuck would he be pitying me? “But I’d rather lose it all than sell out to you.”
Something inside me twists violently. For the first time in years, I feel off balance. People bend to me. They always bend, just before they break. Yet Clayton stands there like a brick wall, steady, immovable, making my carefully laid plan look pathetic.
“You’re even stupider than I thought,” I force out, though the edge of my voice betrays the rambling grasp for control I can’t quite reach. “You would sacrifice your future, everything you’ve ever fought for, just to play house with Harper? You’re not even in the same league as me.”