Chapter Nine — Tessa #2
Rhett stepped closer.
Not touching.
Just enough that the space between us felt chosen.
“You keep saying this is temporary,” he said. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“But temporary does not mean fake.”
I went still.
His gaze dropped briefly to the jacket.
Then returned to my face.
“The events are real. The way I show up is real. What I said last night was real.”
My mouth went dry.
“What exactly did you say last night?”
His eyes warmed.
“That I wanted to see you tomorrow.”
“You said the jacket was a strategy.”
“It was.”
“That is flirting.”
“It can be both.”
“That is convenient.”
“It’s honest.”
I hated that word.
Honest.
Because it demanded something back.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said.
Rhett’s expression softened.
“For you to stop acting like wanting something makes you weak.”
The hallway seemed to narrow.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
At the man who joked when frightened.
Who noticed when I was tired.
Who had stayed for cleanup because he wanted to.
Who had asked a professor about reputational damage because strangers were speaking about me like I belonged to them.
“Why do you care?” I asked.
There.
The question beneath all the others.
Rhett did not answer immediately.
That frightened me more than a joke would have.
Finally, he said, “I’m trying to figure that out.”
My breath caught.
Not a declaration.
Not a line.
Something more dangerous.
Uncertainty.
Real uncertainty.
My phone rang.
The sound broke through the moment.
Dad.
Again.
Rhett glanced at the screen.
Then at me.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you choose to.”
“That is not different.”
“It is completely different.”
The phone continued ringing.
I stared at his name on the screen.
My father expected me to answer.
He always expected me to answer.
Because I always did.
Rhett stood in front of me, saying nothing.
Not pressuring.
Not deciding.
Just waiting.
The call went to voicemail.
I had never let one of my father’s calls go to voicemail.
The silence afterward felt enormous.
Rhett looked at the phone.
Then at me.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I stared.
“How is that good?”
“Because you did something you wanted instead of something expected.”
“I wanted to avoid a conversation.”
“Still counts.”
“That is not growth.”
“It’s a start.”
My phone buzzed with a voicemail notification.
Then a text.
Dad: Call me immediately.
My stomach tightened.
Rhett noticed.
Of course he did.
“Walk with me,” he said.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“I have class.”
“In thirty-four minutes.”
“Why do you know the exact time?”
“You keep schedules visible.”
“That is disturbing.”
“It’s observant.”
He started down the hallway.
I should have stayed.
Returned the call.
Prepared for my next lecture.
Done the responsible thing.
Instead, I followed him.
We walked without direction.
Across the economics building.
Down the wide stone steps.
Past the library and the fountain already beginning to freeze at the edges.
Rhett matched his pace to mine.
He did not ask about my father again.
He did not demand an explanation.
He talked about Cam trying to cook pasta in an electric kettle.
About Noah stealing every leftover pizza from the charity event.
About Coach’s refusal to acknowledge the team holiday-card edit.
By the time we reached the student center, I was breathing normally again.
Rhett stopped near the entrance.
“You have twelve minutes.”
“I know.”
“You want me to walk you to class?”
“No.”
“Brutal.”
“I can manage fifty yards.”
“I’ve seen you on skates.”
“That was different.”
“Very.”
He smiled.
I reached for the jacket zipper.
His gaze dropped.
“You’re returning it?”
“That was the arrangement.”
“I thought it was under review.”
“That was academic correspondence.”
“Legally binding.”
“Absolutely not.”
I pulled the jacket off.
Cold air hit immediately.
Rhett took it.
For one second, his fingers brushed mine.
Neither of us moved.
Then he looked at the jacket.
Then at me.
“You wore it all morning.”
“I was late.”
“Right.”
“And cold.”
“Of course.”
His disappointment was small.
Barely there.
Still visible.
I hated that I caused it.
Before I could reconsider, I took the jacket back.
Rhett blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Renewing the license.”
His face changed.
Slowly.
That real smile.
The one that belonged to me now in a way I was not ready to examine.
“For how long?” he asked.
“One day.”
“Generous.”
“Do not make me regret it.”
“Impossible.”
I put the jacket back on.
His eyes moved over me.
Warm.
Unhidden.
Then he stepped closer.
“Saturday,” he said.
“What about it?”
“Text me when you get home.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll worry.”
“That is not your job.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But I will anyway.”
My chest tightened.
I looked away first.
“I’ll text.”
“Good.”
“That is not permission to send thirty follow-up messages.”
“Twenty?”
“Two.”
“Cruel.”
“One.”
“Negotiation collapsed.”
I smiled despite myself.
Then turned toward class.
“Tessa.”
I looked back.
Rhett stood beneath the bare trees, holding nothing now except my attention.
“Your comment,” he said.
My face warmed.
“What about it?”
“Did you mean it?”
He caught me.
The question had lived beneath every conversation since last night.
I could have answered safely.
About the fall.
The photo.
The ice.
Instead, I looked at him and told the smallest possible truth.
“I’m still deciding.”
His expression went still.
Then warm.
“Take your time.”
I walked away before courage became recklessness.
But I could feel his eyes on me until I reached the building.
And beneath the borrowed jacket, my heart beat like it already knew the answer.