Page 20 of Breakaway Goal

A series of firm knocks sound on my door. My brow quirks, and I pad over, wondering who it could be.

When I swing the door open, it takes a moment for me to react to what I’m seeing.

It’s Rhys. Him showing up on a Friday night totally out of the blue is odd enough. If there’s anyone who wouldn’t have a hard time finding a way to spend a Friday night, it’s him.

But that’s not the weird part. The weird part is how he’s dressed.

Halloween is in October, right?

He’s wearing a pair of black jeans with the ankles rolled up to show off the red high-top Converses on his feet. A t-shirt with a Rene Magritte painting for a design is tucked into the pants, and over it he wears a vintage faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled to expose his rippling forearms.

He looks like he’s just stepped out of a Brooklyn art studio.

“Rhys … why in the world are you dressed like that?” I ask. My lips slant to a disbelieving smile.

Not that I don’t like the look on him. He makes it work.Boy,does he make it work. Especially with the scruffy dark stubble covering his face.

“For the party we’re going to, duh,” he answers.

My eyebrows pinch. “Party?”

“Yep,” he pops the sound, grinning. “There’s a big yearly party that all the art students go to every year, happening tonight. And I’m dragging you to it. I figured if I was gonna hang around a bunch of artsy people all night, I should look the part.” He steps into my dorm, making a shooing motion toward my closet at me. “Go ahead, get changed.”

I close the door, surprise still showing in my face. “But …” I begin, though I’m not even sure what I’mbut-ing. I’m just too caught off guard to know what to do.

“Unless you’re sick, I’m dragging you to this party, Maddie.” Rhys’s words are firm, but there’s an amused grin playing on his lips. “This party is exactly the kind of thing you’dliketo go to, and with Jasmine not here this weekend, I’m not letting you have an excuse for missing out on it.”

A warm feeling beats in my chest like a hummingbird’s wings. Rhys is giving up his own Friday night and put together an outfit he’d never wear otherwise, all to take me a party he thinks I’d enjoy but wouldn’t go to on my own?

“Where did you even get those clothes?” I ask, my cheeks going warm from an insuppressible smile.

“Went to that thrift store you keep talking about. Used Pinterest to see what hipster artsy guys are supposed to dress like,” he answers with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. “You’re a nut.”

“And you’re making us late.” He tips his head to my closet and claps his hands. “Chop, chop.”

I throw up my hands. “I can’t get changed while you’re standing here!”

The thought of undressing while Rhys’s appreciative gaze burns up and down my skin flickers in my mind, sending a pulse of heat cresting through me, but I quickly chase it away.

“I’ll wait in the hall, but hurry up!”

His fake impatience makes me laugh as he exits. With Rhys being there by my side, looking like I’ve never seen him before, I’m excited at the prospect of going out and seeing what the night has in store.

I put on a floral-pattern button-up shirt I love and tuck it into a pair of jean shorts that I always think make my legs look great. I step into my shoes and then out to the hallway.

“Good enough?” I ask Rhys playfully, gesturing to what I’m wearing.

I must be imagining the way something smolders in his eyes as they elevator up and down my outfit, and the way his big Adam’s apple works past a hard swallow.

“Perfect,” he answers. He slings his arm over my shoulder as we head to the stairs. “Not quite as stylish as me tonight, but not all of us can be.”

I laugh. “Thank heavens for that.”

“I might start dressing like this permanently.”

“Oh, really?”

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