Page 119 of Defend Me

“Are you and Dean cool now?” he asked.

“I haven’t talked to him, but we have to work together regardless.”

“Okay, sure. It’ll be more comfortable than my dorm.”

“Facts.”

My teeth slammed together when we walked into my room. My bed had been deliciously messy this morning. Now, it was meticulously made since the cleaner was here while I was in class.

I let out a little growl and moved over to it. I threw back the corner of the duvet and untucked part of the sheets.

“What are you doing?” Tilian asked.

“Stupid fucking cleaner. I told him not to touch it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just the guy who comes here twice a week. It’s fucking annoying.”

“You can’t fire him?”

“I tried. Not my money, not my choice.”

He smiled before he stepped over to my dresser. I watched him open the drawer, then pull out a handful of clothes. When he flung them across the room, I was shocked.

“Come on,” he encouraged. “You want it messy, right?”

“He’ll just clean it up.”

“Not for a few days. Tell him to bill your parents higher for the extra work. Would they even notice?”

“No.”

“Then let yourself live a little.” He thrust an armful of clothes at me with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Be a rebel.”

He was dangerous. If I knew how much of a threat Tilian would be to my entire way of life, I probably would’ve veered in the opposite direction. And that would’ve been the worst mistake of my life.

“A rebel,” I repeated as I took the clothes. “Good thing I have a really good teacher.”

“The best. I’ve been raging against the machine since I took my first breath.”

“Never change, baby. Never fucking change.”

Chapter 34

Tilian

Here I was, having a peaceful moment on the porch swing at my dad’s house while listening to Night Lovell, when my phone started ringing. The song was ‘You Motherfucker,’ which fit exactly how I felt right now. Before Dean assaulted me with his plea for a ride from the airport, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d answered a call. Most people who knew me wouldn’t have the audacity. Anyone else would just be sent to voicemail, which I hadn’t checked in years. When it got full, I hit ‘delete all’ to clear the notification and moved on with my life with a clean slate.

I would’ve done exactly that, but my phone lit up with a picture of me and Brooks that he’d taken yesterday morning. We were on the outdoor couch on his balcony, stretched out across it. He had his legs on either side of me with his chest against my back. I was flipping off the camera while he held up a peace sign. The sun shone down on his loose hair and we both looked really fucking happy.

“What the fuck is this?” I answered.

“That’s a far cry from, ‘Oh my god, Brooks. I missed you so much and I’m already hard from hearing your voice.’”

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