Chapter 24
Ramsey
Iwake up with my dick so hard it could fucking be a load-bearing beam in construction, the taste of Reese still lingering on my tongue. Jesus fucking Christ. After three days of her riding my face and I'm still waking up like this.
"It's just a best friend thing," I mutter to the empty room, knowing it's complete bullshit even as the words leave my mouth.
Best friends don't jack off to the memory of their friend coming on their face. Best friends don't save a pair of ruined panties in their nightstand drawer like some fucking trophy. Best friends don't lie awake at night planning all the ways they want to ruin said friend.
But I'm not good enough for her. Never have been, never will be.
I drag myself out of bed, ignoring my throbbing cock as I pull on compression shorts, basketball shorts, and a loose tank. My reflection in the mirror shows a man on the edge—dark circles under my eyes, jaw tight with tension. I look like I haven't slept in days, which isn't far from the truth.
The ride to the gym is a blur. I crank my music so loud it drowns out my thoughts, but it doesn't do shit to erase the memory of Reese's thighs clamped around my head, her taste flooding my mouth, her desperate cries as she came.
The Pit is practically empty at this hour, just how I like it. No fucking freshmen trying to figure out how the machines work, no groups of sorority girls taking selfies by the free weights.
Halsey's at the front desk, her blue faded hair piled on top of her head as she scrolls through her phone.
"You look like shit warmed over," she says without looking up.
"Thanks. Always a pleasure," I grunt.
That's when I see Declan Reid walking out of the back office, his dark hair messy like he just rolled out of bed. He's got that predatory smirk that makes most people nervous, but I've known him long enough to see past the bullshit.
As he passes Halsey, he tugs at her hair, and she flips him off without even looking up from her phone.
"Fuck off, Reid," she calls out, but there's no heat in her voice.
He catches sight of me and changes direction. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance. "You look like absolute dogshit, Blackwood."
"Thanks for the update," I mutter, heading toward the bench press.
Declan falls into step beside me. "C'mon, I'll spot you. Was about to do chest anyway."
I grunt in acknowledgment, already loading plates onto the bar. Declan helps, adding a forty-five to each side with practiced ease. The familiar weight-loading ritual calms me slightly, the metallic clang of plates grounding me in reality.
"So," Declan says as I position myself on the bench, "any particular reason you're here talking to me and not Reaper? Besides my face being prettier to look at than his ugly mug."
I snort, gripping the bar. "Cope’s got morning classes. And your face looks like something a dog would drag in after rolling in shit."
Declan laughs, positioning himself behind the bench. "At least I don't look like I've been awake for three fucking days straight. What's eating you, man? Or should I say who?"
I push out my first rep with more force than necessary. "Nothing's eating me."
"Bullshit." Declan watches my form with a critical eye. "This about that little dancer you're always following around? The one with the tight ass and the mouth that could make a priest question his vows?"
My grip tightens on the bar so hard my knuckles go white. "Watch it."
Declan's smirk widens. "Hit a nerve, did I? Interesting."
I push through five more reps, focusing on the burn in my chest rather than the urge to knock Declan's teeth down his throat.
"You know," he continues, seemingly oblivious to my growing irritation, "if you're not hitting that, someone else will."
The bar slams back into the rack with a metallic clang that echoes through the gym.
"We're not talking about this," I growl, sitting up and wiping sweat from my forehead.
Declan circles around to face me, that knowing smirk still firmly in place. "Why not? Everyone else is."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I snap, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long swig.
Declan leans against the bench, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and Little Miss Dancer. It's fucking painful watching you two dance around each other. You look like someone's been twisting your balls in a vice for weeks."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I growl, standing up to add more weight to the bar.
Declan steps closer, blocking my path. "Look, man, we're not exactly braiding each other's hair at sleepovers, but I've known you long enough to see what's happening.
You come here to blow off steam, hit some shit, talk some shit out.
Call me a fucking therapist, I don't know. But here's what I do know."
His voice drops, suddenly serious. "That girl has stars in her eyes when it comes to you, and you haven't stuck your dick or any other part in anyone else in almost four years.
So whatever holier-than-thou shit you're trying to convince yourself of, just stop.
No one's gonna love that girl like you do. "
I freeze, the weight plate hanging from my hand. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me." Declan shrugs. "Everyone sees it except you two idiots. You look at her like she hung the fucking moon, and she looks at you like you're the only guy in the room. It's nauseating, honestly."
"You don't know shit about me and Reese," I mutter, slamming the plate onto the bar with more force than necessary.
"I know you've been following her around like a lovesick puppy since freshman year," Declan counters. "And you beat the shit out of that lacrosse player who grabbed her ass at Theta Chi."
I clench my jaw so tight I can hear my teeth grinding. "I'm not discussing my sex life with you."
"What sex life?" Declan laughs. "That's my point. You're not fucking anyone else because you're too hung up on dancer girl."
"Her name is Reese," I snap.
"I know her name," Declan says, his voice softening slightly. "Everyone knows her name because you practically growl at anyone who so much as looks at her sideways."
I drop onto the bench, running a hand through my hair. "Look, it's complicated."
"It's really not," Declan counters. "You want her; she wants you. The end."
"She deserves better than me," I say.
Declan's eyes narrow at me, his expression losing that usual smirk. "Take it from someone who's been there, done that before," he says, leaning in closer. "She may deserve better than you. Hell, most women do. But no one—and I mean fucking no one—is going to treat her better than you."
I shake my head, grabbing the bar again. "You don't understand—"
"No, you don't understand," he cuts me off, his hand shooting out to stop me from lifting. "You got this darkness in you, and you're afraid it's gonna swallow her whole. But you ever stop to think maybe that's what she wants?"
I snort. "Right. Because everyone wants to be with a fucking psychopath."
"Maybe we're all a little fucked up," Declan continues, ignoring my comment. "Just trying to find the thing in this world that makes life worth living while we can. Because I don't know if you've looked around and noticed, but the fucking world is shit. Every aspect of it."
His words hit something deep inside me, cracking open a door I've been keeping shut.
"Don't waste the fucking time being a white knight," he says, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe what she needs is the villain."
The weight of his words settles in my chest. Maybe he's right. Maybe I've been so busy trying to protect Reese from myself that I never considered she might want exactly what I am—darkness and all.
"Fuck," I mutter, letting the bar slam back into the rack.
"Yeah, fuck is right," Declan says, stepping back. "Now are you gonna stop being a little bitch about this and actually lift, or should I get you some tampons while I'm at the store later?"
I flip him off but can't help the laugh that escapes me. "You're a real fucking poet, you know that?"
"I have my moments," he shrugs. "Now shut the fuck up and lift. Your moping is ruining my morning."
I push through my workout with renewed intensity, Declan's words echoing in my head. By the time I'm done, my muscles are screaming and sweat is pouring down my face, but my mind feels clearer than it has in days.