Chapter 27
REVERIE
My heart is no longer a working muscle but a pulverized slop of tissue, veins, and blood. It pounds against my rib cage even still, despite how it’s beaten itself to death.
I release a shaky breath and dip my toe in the aqua pool. A shudder works through my body from the gentle caress of cool water.
My hair is still wet from my shower, where I held my head under the stream for one hundred ninety-two seconds. That’s been my time for the last week. I haven’t improved, and I’ve grown frustrated.
I don’t know why the hell I thought getting into a pool would fix the problem. Standing over it now, practically hyperventilating just from staring at it, I’m definitely going to choke on my anxiety and die after two seconds.
“This is stupid,” I mutter, running my sweaty palms through my hair and squeezing tight. Yet, the sharp pinpricks of pain don’t unglue my feet from the cement to carry me right back out of the pool.
After the tense but somewhat pleasant lunch date with Sable, Rogue dropped me off at my dorm, where I spent the rest of the day studying and finishing homework. Afterward, I took a shower and got the insane idea to come here. It’s nine o’clock at night, hours after closing.
Apparently, Rogue had previous relations with a manager at the sports center, and with one phone call, he finessed her into agreeing to let us in.
But not before Rogue broke into Dread's room to grab the key to the pool, which Dread always leaves in a little bowl on his desk, so I could have the freedom to panic alone.
Rogue promised to stay right outside in the equipment area, but only after vowing to resurrect and kill me again if I drowned.
I chew on my bottom lip, my body edging away an inch. Cold sweat dampens my entire back. One cough, I’ll vomit my heart out onto the cold floor.
“Yep, this was dumb,” I sigh, pivoting on my heel toward the door behind me.
My heart lodges in my throat the same second I swallow, the muscle trapping my saliva in my windpipe. The two are at a crossroads, both trying to get past one another, all the while I hack and cough.
Dread is standing next to the exit, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his ankle cocked over the other, wearing his usual joggers and hoodie.
His ink black hair tumbles over his forehead, ending right above his icy eyes.
In the dim lighting, coupled with the blue glow from the pool, they look even more intense.
His scarred eyebrow arches as I struggle to recover, feeling how inflamed my face is while I catch my breath.
I was so lost in my head, I hadn't even heard him come in.
“What are you doing?” I squeak before letting out another pitiful cough.
I knew he was coming home late tonight, but I didn’t know what time, and I hoped he wouldn't come looking for me until tomorrow.
Seeing him for the first time in a week is startling to my internal system. Like always, a potent mix of foreboding and trepidation swirls in the pit of my stomach, but beneath it all, there’s a flutter of excitement, too.
“I’m curious to know the same,” he deflects.
“Just hanging out,” I answer casually.
Dread hums, his expression frustratingly impassive and unreadable. “Why are you here?”
I shoot him an annoyed look. “I asked you first.”
“I just got home,” he says. “Rogue texted to let me know where you two were, so I came.”
What a fucking snitch.
“Oh.”
His brow arches again, but all the words have dried on my tongue. My body fills with awkwardness, and a thick tension builds in the space between us.
I don’t want to tell him why I’m here. If anything, it’ll give him an excuse to throw me in the pool again, and this time, I highly doubt he’ll feel inclined to distract me from my terror.
I can’t tell if he’s still pissed at me, but I’m not chomping at the bit to ask, considering he put me in an oven last time.
He pushes off the wall and slowly prowls toward me. My stomach clenches, my internal system desperately ringing the bell to alert me of the danger and telling me to run, but I'm too goddamn stubborn to prove I'm not scared of him.
Even though I am.
I lift my chin defiantly, which brings a cruel smirk to Dread’s lips, a simple gesture that has his namesake filling my gut.
I work to swallow, my muscles solidifying more with each step he takes, but I never move my stare from him. I’m prepared to bolt the second he reaches for me. I’ll never outswim him, but there’s a small chance I can outrun him.
Rather than approaching me directly, he changes his trajectory and walks up to the edge of the pool beside me, a few feet away. We stand side by side, him facing the pool while my back is to it.
I'm out of arm's reach, but it doesn't diminish the adrenaline pumping through my system.
“What are you doing here?” he asks again, staring into the blue abyss.
“Nothing.”
He lifts his gaze to glance down at my body. “You’re wearing a swimsuit.”
I don’t look down at myself, having already forgotten I was wearing my red one-piece.
Despite obviously wearing a bathing suit and standing in front of a pool, admitting my intentions were to get in the water feels like inviting him to force me into it again.
But really, I’m in a bathing suit standing in front of a pool. It’s pretty fucking obvious what I’m doing here.
“Enjoying the view?” I answer.
“Is that a question?”
“Is it any of your business?” I parry.
“Rev,” he growls, his voice deepening with a clear warning.
My hackles rise further, and I glance toward the exit door. I have two options: tell him, or run.
“I’ll give you a five-second head start, but that’s all you get,” he says, angling his body toward me.
Fuck. I fucking suck at keeping my thoughts off my face.
I dart a glance toward the door a second time, then back to him, and, after another tense few beats, I deflate.
I definitely was lying to myself, thinking I had a chance of outrunning him—even with a five-second head start.
“Clearly, when one comes to the pool, it’s with the intention of swimming,” I snip, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a deliberate step to the side, farther away from him.
I may not have a chance of making it to the door before him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going into that pool without a fight.
He nods slowly, studying me closely. It only makes me tighten my arms closer to my chest, as if to conceal myself from his scrutiny. I don’t like the way he’s staring at me, as if he’s dissecting my brain and searching for the answers I refuse to give him.
He knows what my mom tried to do to me when I was four, and he knows why I’m terrified of the water. I’m sure he can come to his own conclusions.
He hums, turns to the side in my direction, then kicks off his shoes and socks.
My heart drops, and this time, I take several steps away from the edge before twisting so I'm facing him and the pool, panic and terror coalescing in my system.
“Whatever you’re planning, stop it,” I demand, my voice shaking. “I’m not getting in that water with you.”
He’s going to dangle me over the edge again and make me do something else to escape death.
He stares at me blankly, his hands pausing at the collar of his hoodie.
“I’m not going to drown you,” he says mildly.
As if it’s just another day of assuring me he won’t kill me.
“You do realize I have no reason to believe you, right?” I ask, giving him a ‘do I look stupid?’ look. “Did you forget about the crematorium already? Or your first ultimatum? You might as well be a shark inviting me for a casual swim in chummy water.”
He arches a brow. “I think we both know I couldn’t kill you, Rev.”
“You can drown someone without killing them,” I say, the words coming out smaller than I intended.
His gaze sharpens, and his jaw tightens until it could cut a diamond. For several moments, he’s quiet, that familiar rage melting the ice in his eyes. Except, for the first time, it doesn’t feel directed at me.
He pulls the hoodie over his head in lieu of responding, revealing his bare torso.
Any progress I made on figuring out what he’s doing dies the second I drop my stare to his broad chest and down to his stomach.
I’ve seen him without a shirt many times, but it never gets any easier to ignore.
The muscle straining beneath his tattooed skin is a sight that has brought many girls to their knees.
A sight that, admittedly, has made my own weaken.
I clench my jaw and refocus on his face, where he watches me check him out with amusement. And that pisses me off—but mostly because I’m embarrassed for getting caught.
“So, what? You’re going to avoid talking about what you did and then expect me to get in the water with you like I just hallucinated the whole thing?”
He chuckles. “It was very real, darling, but don’t go looking for an apology,” he says. “The old me would've just left you in there rather than taking my anger out on your pussy and letting you walk free afterward.”
I blink at him, stunned for a second. “Are you implying I should be grateful or something?”
He shrugs casually, though his tone is more serious when he says, “No, but you can rest assured it’s not something I’ll ever do again.”
I frown, not exactly sure how to take that.
He studies me closely for a moment, seeming to contemplate something.
“I gave myself one night to feel everything, so I could let it go. I don’t want to be angry at you anymore.”
My head jerks back, blinking rapidly while I try to process that.
It was the last thing I expected him to say.
I open my mouth to respond and then snap it closed again, having no idea what to even think.
“Uh, okay,” I implore slowly after a few more beats, my brows wrinkling with confusion. “Well, I’m still not going to be your bait.”
“No, you’re not,” he agrees easily. “You’re just going to be my girlfriend.”
I narrow my eyes, staring at him suspiciously. “Because of Lio—”
“No,” he interjects firmly. “It has nothing to do with your father and everything to do with you and me.”