Chapter 11
Ryker
F uck.
I have not been able to close my eyes without seeing Gwen and that purple bra that peeked through her very wet white shirt. She tried to hide it with the sweatshirt, but it’s like the universe wanted me to see her.
The bra perfectly fit her tits and pushed them up just the right amount to see enough but leave the rest to the imagination. She was so embarrassed, her cheeks turned a bright scarlet color, and it made me want to egg her on more.
The shock on her face when I mentioned we should do our project on Wuthering Heights would have been offensive, if not for the fact that I was still thinking about her impeccable tits.
I did however enjoy the way she blushed when I called her out on it. She automatically went on the defensive. I wonder if she does that often, tries to defend herself after everything she says or does.
I run my hand down my face as I lay on the couch in the living room where I’ve been laying since I got home from class. Patrick, Mason, and Holland haven’t been home yet, and who the fuck knows where Logan is. Probably being daddy’s good little boy and sitting in his room with a book in his face.
I roll my eyes and stare at the ceiling. My father is never going to let me have my own life. I don’t really even know what I want to do when I leave Ellington in the spring, but I do know I want nothing to do with him while he runs the company.
Logan wants to be an engineer or something, but I don’t even know why he’s trying because our father will never let that happen. Honestly, why are we even wasting time in college if Robert already knows he wants us to work for him? What’s the point? Why am I even trying so hard to impress him? Why do I care?
Even though I despise the man, he’s still my father, and I feel some sort of sick loyalty to him. Robert Steele is no father, but I’m stuck with him. I may be twenty-two, but I’ll be stuck under my father’s thumb until he takes his last breath.
I hear the front door open in the distance and multiple pairs of footsteps ascending in the hallway.
Patrick, Holland, and Mason enter the living room looking exhausted and sweaty. Fuck, I forgot about practice. I’ve been too in my head about my father and Gwen and this project that I haven’t even thought about it.
The boys finally notice me sitting on the couch, their laughter dying down and their faces twisting into a mix of confusion and concern.
“Where have you been, man?” Pat asks, setting his bag down on the ground and circling the couch to stand in front of me.
“Yeah, coach is pissed,” Holland adds. Yeah well, coach will get over it. I’ll just threaten his job and he’ll back down.
I shouldn’t use my last name for threats, that’s something my father does, but sometimes it really can help.
I clear my throat and run my hand through my jet black, messy hair. “I forgot.”
The guy’s eyes go wide, and I hear Mason choke on the water he’s just sipped on.
“You forgot?” Holland asks, the surprise clear in his voice. I stand from the couch and head to the connected kitchen, grab a water from the fridge, and take a long sip.
“Better not give coach that excuse. He’ll kick your ass,” Mason steals my spot on the couch, turning on his stupid game. I lean against the kitchen counter, watching the screen as guns and different characters pop up.
“What’s going on?” Pat’s eyes meet mine from across the room. He knows me better than anyone, and I can’t keep much from him.
“Nothing. I had class this morning, and we were assigned a partner project.”
“Dude, that sucks ass. Group projects are the worst,” Mason says as he stares at the screen in front of him, causing me to roll my eyes. Yeah, no shit.
“Okay…” Pat draws out.
“Do any of you know a Gwen?” I realize now that I don’t know her last name. We haven’t gotten to that. It only occurs to me now that she knows exactly who I am, last name and all, but I barely know anything about her.
Holland looks back at me from the chair in the living room. “Guinevere Sharpe?” I shrug.
“I don’t know. All I know is her first name.”
“Well, my sister is roommates with a girl named Guinevere. Maybe that’s her?” Holland questions. I shrug again.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Why?” Pat wonders.
“She’s my partner,” the guys look at me, waiting for me to continue. I roll my eyes. Nosey assholes. “We got into it one day during a debate and our professor seems to think our differing opinions will make for a great project.”
I take another sip from the water bottle in my hand. I still can’t see the logic in it. Our differing opinions are only going to hinder the process, but whatever.
“Is she hot?” Mason asks. Holland slaps the back of his head, causing Mason to rub the spot. “Ow! What the hell?”
Holland shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”
“She’s infuriating is what she is. She’s got a big mouth and an even bigger attitude. I don’t know whether to be pissed or turned on. ”
Pat snorts. “Dude, just tell her you’re an Elite. She’ll fall in line just like the rest of them.”
Yeah, you would think. Except, Gwen isn’t like the rest of them. She knows who I am, and she doesn’t give a shit. Plus, I need her. I can’t piss her off or make her run.
“Yeah, maybe,” is all I say, ending this topic of conversation. “Anyway, I’ll be at the next practice.”
Most of us have been on the Ellington rugby team since freshman year. We needed something to let off steam and distract us from all the shit happening in our lives.
We were interested in hockey, but then we realized none of us can skate. Mason broke his wrist after he fell on it, and Pat left with a broken pinky finger. Suffice to say, we were not built for hockey. So, rugby it was.
Rugby’s a tough sport, but at least it’s on dry land and not on ice. We took to it pretty quickly, and we’ve been playing ever since.
Pat nods, acknowledging my statement. “Good,” is all he says, effectively ending the conversation. Thank God.
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Saturdays are the best. I get to sleep in, and I don’t have to worry about shit. Except today, since I’m meeting with the she devil herself to start working on this project from hell.
I’ve already gone for my run, showered, shaved, eaten breakfast and it’s only nine. The guys are still sleeping, leaving me to my thoughts.
It’s only about eight weeks into the semester, and the weather here in Connecticut is starting to cool down quite a bit. I like the cooler weather. I think I run naturally hot, so the cold weather keeps me regulated.
It’s beautiful here in the fall. The trees are all different colors, vibrant reds, greens, yellows, and oranges. The campus is decorated with Halloween decorations and all of the houses on our block are decked out with extravagant props.
Every year, the Elite throw a massive Halloween party that all the students come to, and every year we regret it the next day. The house is a mess, and there are random objects strewn around everywhere. Last year, I found a used condom and some chicks panties on my bed. I threw those sheets out immediately.
Since then, we’ve decided to lock our bedroom doors at every party so no one can mistake one of them as their own personal sex room.
Each year, we choose a group of freshmen to come up with a theme, get the decorations, send out invites, and basically take care of all the miniscule things while the elder members approve every move they make. It’s a nice system.
Halloween is in two weeks, and I haven’t heard anything from anyone which is causing me to be more on edge than usual. Not only am I thinking about the party, but I’m also thinking about the fact that my first actual session outside of the classroom with Gwen is in an hour.
I send a group text to Mason, Holland, and Pat about the party planning, and pack up to head to the library.