8. Anastasia #2
“Everyone is saying you’re the first daughter. I have to say I’m surprised. For a long while it was my father who was favored to win this election.”
“Tides can change.” I brush him off. Is he only here to rattle my nerves?
I screwed Adam Sullevan one too many times before I realized how much of a pretentious, arrogant asshole he is.
“Hmm,” is all he says, looking me over as if I’m hiding a whole conspiracy in my ponytail.
“Everything okay, baby?”
Rhett’s voice is music to my ears in this moment. I look up to find him towering over Riley, who stands to let him into the row. He doesn’t even need to speak to Adam; Rhett’s stare alone causes him to rise from his seat, and he backs out without a word after lingering a look on me.
When Rhett sits, he makes the theater seat look far too small for a person. Luckily, no one sits behind him, and I doubt they will now.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “Is he a problem?”
“No,” I say quickly. I don’t need Rhett to place a target on Adam. He’s harmless, really.
“An ex?” he presses.
“Sort of,” I confess.
To my surprise, as the lecturer enters and dims the lights for us to watch their introduction presentation, Rhett’s large hand slides over my thigh.
It’s possessive, meant for the eyes of Adam and the others who keep glancing this way.
And it’s so damn attractive that I can’t take in a word while his thumb brushes over the bare skin between my skirt and boot.
In Rhett’s other ear he wears an AirPod.
I figure he’s listening to music, but from the glances I steal, sometimes his distant expression flexes around his eyes and I think he’s concentrating on a podcast or an audiobook.
He props one elbow on the arm of his chair and holds his chin, and occasionally his fingers flex faintly on my thigh and his thumb stalls his relaxing strokes.
I have another class right after this one, which passes by just as quickly before we break for lunch. In the line for food I stare between a caesar salad and a chicken sandwich for far too long.
“Like I said, not one to choose,” Rhett says.
I shoot him a look. He’s right, but I won’t let him gloat about it. Why is decision-making over the smallest things often so damn difficult? The main component in these dishes is the same, so it’s mostly of case of do I want bread or leaves? Put that way ...
Rhett reaches over me and picks up both before guiding me without any chance to protest over to the next options, a firm hand on my waist.
“I won’t eat both—that’ll be a waste,” I say.
“We’ll share. Half and half or whatever other ratio you choose. But please do so before lunch ends.”
I whack a playful hand to his chest and he vibrates with a low chuckle.
Now, do I want Gatorade or water ...?
Rhett picks them both within a few seconds.
“That’s just creepy. I didn’t even debate that one out loud.”
“You think I haven’t noticed that all you’ve drunk this week is blue Gatorade and water?”
I blink at him. I wouldn’t have thought he’d notice at all, and the fact he did warms my chest. “Fine. But you can’t possibly know what sweet I want,” I say, eyeing the assortment of cakes, candy, and chocolate bars. I want far more than just two. I’ve always had a sweet tooth.
“Hmm, you got me there. I’m going to take a wild guess you’ll choose the peanut butter cups, Twizzlers, or chocolate chip cookies.”
“Very good guesses.” I approve. I reach for the Sour Patch Kids, hesitate, and pluck the cookies instead.
I slip a sheepish look to Rhett, who can hardly suppress his grin—the kind that feels rare on him and stops my thoughts for a moment. He grabs my abandoned Sour Patch Kids before nudging me again and paying.
“If you’re adamant on spending your salary on feeding me, maybe I should pick more things.”
“I might have to ask for a pay raise,” he says as we get to the table where Riley sits with two other girls and one guy from our major.
“Ana, I’ve been dying to catch up on your summer!” Kayley says. Her attention drifts to my side, as do all the eyes at the table.
“Oh, this is Rhett. He’s a new transfer, and I guess the answer to what I got up to this summer,” I lie easily, chuckling awkwardly.
They can hardly suppress their admiration of the tall, stunning man next to me. Even Jack ogles him, and he has a boyfriend at another school two hours away.
“Can confirm,” Riley says, helping to ease the anxiety my lie is obvious. “I’ve been fighting for her attention all break.”
Rhett’s hand takes mine on my lap, stopping me from fidgeting as his fingers lace through mine and he squeezes. He’s talking to Jack now and absentmindedly slips the open sandwich pack to me.
We end up splitting almost half of our food. Except for the sweets—I eat most of both.
To my surprise, Rhett manages to pleasantly ease in with everyone. Either he’s a spectacular actor, considering the grumpy guy of few words I first met, or he’s a natural in college social settings.
When everyone else is chatting to each other, I lean in to him to talk between us.
“You never went to college, did you?” I ask. His age and where he’s at in his job suggests he missed out on this experience.
“This is my first time,” he says.
“Glad I could break your college virginity.”
“I can’t say I’m envious though.”
“Two hours of deep-diving into classic poetry isn’t your thing? Never would have guessed.”
His hand on my thigh gives a light squeeze, shooting tingles through me. I have to refrain from wiggling in my seat at the reaction my body gives to that small movement, like some touch-starved creature.
Rhett’s blue eyes flick up subtly before dropping to his classic all-black wristwatch.
I don’t mean to speculate, but I realize I’m greedy for details of his personal life when I notice it’s a very expensive brand that would easily cost him a year’s salary.
I follow what drew his attention and find one of the campus security cameras in the corner.
“You finished?” he asks.
I nod and he gathers our trash before taking my hand to guide me up.
“We still have ten minutes,” I protest.
“And I haven’t had you to myself all day,” he says charmingly. My heart speeds up at that even though I know it’s only an excuse for those at the table.
It works. Though Riley is in on our ruse, even she doesn’t hide her adoring puppy eyes at his comment.
His arm curves around my waist, and I wonder why the sudden closeness until I look up and see who’s heading our way.
Adam Sullevan.
It seems convenient timing that Rhett would choose now to leave.
“Hey, little A,” Adam coos. I hate when he calls me that. Even when he thought it was sweet during our fling.
Rhett says with a bored drawl, “Of all the things I had to learn today, what you name your dick I would pay to erase.”
I bite my lip, shocked and suppressing my sudden amusement that Adam’s two friends fail to hide.
“We didn’t get a chance to meet,” Adam says to him tightly. His smile reminds me of someone eyeing a target and wondering how much of Daddy’s money it will cost to get rid of it.
“Rhett Kaiser, Ana’s boyfriend, and about to be your problem if you don’t move out the way.”
Adam huffs a bitter laugh. “Easy there. No harm done. I don’t tend to care where my seconds end up.”
My fingers tighten on Rhett’s, and I push with a hand wrapped around his bicep when he seems to contemplate lunging for Adam right there.
The bastard chuckles as we pass and my cheeks flare.
I can’t deny the comment stings, and humiliation threatens my composure.
Usually I wouldn’t care, but Rhett hearing it makes me want to rip my hand from his.
I let go of him as we enter the hallway, quiet while students are finishing lunch. I don’t want to go to my next class. I head for the exit instead.
“That’s not the way?—”
“I’d like to go, if that’s okay,” I say.
Rhett hooks my arm. “Don’t let him win.”
My teeth ground. “I’m just not feeling well.”
Perhaps it’s childish and cowardly, but I know Adam is in the last class of the day and I can’t suffer his antagonizing eyes on me.
“I’m sorry,” Rhett says. “I should have gotten us out of there sooner to avoid his path. I didn’t realize who he was before.”
My brow furrows. “You couldn’t have known.” Did he find Adam’s name and look him up? I can’t decide whether it’s weird or touching if he did.
Rhett’s jaw shifts. He takes a long breath and scans the hallway. “You know I’m not opposed to skipping out on a few hours of tedious lectures.”
I smile, letting the tension disperse as we head out. “I’m in the mood for ice cream.”
“I think you’re past your sugar allowance for the day.”
“There is no such thing.” I wave him off.
“Let me guess, mint chocolate chip or something strawberry? You seem like an opposites type when it comes to sweet things, if lunch is anything to go by.”
My lips part. He’s right, but I don’t want to stroke his growing ego about figuring me out. Rhett may not be an academic setting type, but he’s too observant and analytical for his own good. I suppose it makes sense with his work.
When I look up as we reach the car and he opens my door, Rhett’s eyes dipping to my open mouth makes my words stall. Then his alluring irises pierce mine, unscrambling them from my mind.
I get into the car without saying anything.
“An interesting first look into college life,” he says, taking my hand as he drives. “How are you feeling about it?”
I blow out a breath. “I thought I’d feel sad about this being my final year, but I think I’ve been ready to leave for a while.”
“How so?”
“The mundane. The drama. It’s like college is supposed to define us.”
“It’s supposed to shape your future.”
“Exactly. One shape. Maybe room for a little molding with the major I have, but it’s always felt very ...”
“Restrictive?”
I smile out the window. “Yes.”
“So why the postgrad year?”
Rhett’s asking questions I’ve never faced before. They live within me, but I fear them connecting with the answers.
“Is it pathetic to say I didn’t know what else to do?”
“I don’t think so.”
He sounds sincere, curious.
I elaborate. “It just seemed like an easier thing to do when I didn’t want to face the world yet.
I want to move out, but the thought of picking a career path and potentially having it set my life .
.. I guess I wasn’t ready. Maybe I won’t ever be and I just need to suck it up.
Everything just feels so ... beige. Unexciting. ”
Rhett is silent for long enough that my overactive brain starts doing somersaults.
So I add, “I know what you must be thinking—poor rich woman doesn’t know how she’ll keep herself entertained in the real world.”
“I’m not thinking that at all.”
My teeth grind in anticipation. I wish I didn’t care to know his thoughts, but I want them so badly, as if they’ll shine a light on something I haven’t wanted to admit before.
“It’s okay not to have your life figured out at twenty-four. Hell, you can change your mind at thirty, forty, and never touch your PHD again.”
“Of all the bad influences you could have on me, my father hearing that might be what gets you fired.”
His mouth curves with a faint devious smile. “I mean it. Your parents can’t hold you in a cage forever. Break it if you must.”
His tone feels personal. “Did your parents set expectations for you?”
A muscle in his jaw flexes and he doesn’t answer right away.
“I was raised by my uncle after ten. He tried to shape me into what he wanted.”
“But you chose differently?”
His fingers tighten on the wheel and his discomfort rises in a guarded expression. His past isn’t something he likes to talk about, and that makes me ... sad.
“Just don’t let anyone tell you who you are, Ana.”