Page 41 of Deafened By Silence
Clay reaches out, laying his hand on mine. I stare at our point of touch, where his hand swallows my smaller one, where his commanding warmth settles over me. This is the point when I’m told, it’s okay, they’d be proud of you. It’s okay, you survived. But it’s not okay and it’s simply not fair. I clear my throat, banishing the despair back to the pit of my soul.
“What about you? Tell me something interesting about your life.”
“There’s nothing interesting about my life,” Clay replies instantly and evenly. I blink a few times, recognizing that’s all I’m going to get and even more depressingly, he believes it. I drop the subject and withdraw my hand to cover a yawn pulling at my mouth.
“Will you walk me back to my room?” I ask cheerily. Clay’s out of his seat as if it burnt his ass, offering me the crook of his arm again. Grabbing my mic and using his forearm to pull myself up, I smile with a slight shake of my head.
“Please don’t move that fast before my second coffee of the day. Maybe third.” A rumble of a chuckle passes from his body to mine, finishing as quickly as it started. More of those bitchy looks are passed around as we leave and I roll my eyes at each one. People really need to get better hobbies. Gently tugging on my arm, Clay draws my attention to the library steps.
“Just so you know, I’m in the library every evening from seven. If you should…I mean, if there’s anything I can help with.” He swallows uncomfortably and I quirk a brow.
“Clayton Michaels. Are you offering to tutor me?”
“Whatever you need,” he half-shrugs but I don’t miss the bashful smile as he looks away. A warm feeling spreads beneath my skin despite the chilly breeze curling around my bare legs. We walk the rest of the way in silence, the material of his jacketand my shirt acting as a barrier between our linked arms. His presence is so calming, like a soothing balm to my being with an undercurrent of protectiveness, though I can’t quite figure out if I deserve it.
Reaching my dorm block, Clay holds open the door and sees me safely inside. I pause at the stairs, remaining a step higher to be closer to his eye level.
“Um, thanks for ... whatever this was,” I tug my hair behind my ear while his black eyes track the movement. I still as his hand raises and untucks the same strand, playing with it in his fingers much like Rhys did. Not a comment I will be making out loud, but the moment stretches on and I find I need to say something. Anything. “You haven’t commented on the color change,” I settle on, inwardly cringing. Great job fishing for compliments Harper.
“I have not.” Clay states clearly. I watch his lips, again hanging on for elaboration and not receiving one. Screw it.
“Do you like it?” I chew on my bottom lip, watching Clay’s eyes narrow in thought. He straightens, keeping the pink strands in his hold.
“Did you do it for him?” Finally, the elephant in the room presents itself. Or in this case, the jackass in the stairwell. My nose scrunches up and I scoff.
“Hell no. I only do things that appease me.” I’m certain my tone reflects my confidence and betrays none of the incident where I was forced to change my hair color. Clay searches my face before producing a singular nod.
“Then I like it.” I bite back my smile, not surprised by all the warm fuzzies that flood my mid-section. In the midst of my bad decisions, no matter how pleasurable they were, I feel like I’ve made a tiny breakthrough with Clay. Only cracking of the tip of a mountain, but still more than I thought I ever would. Clay’s hand hovers between us and for a second I think he’s going tocup my jaw but then he wishes me a peaceful rest and leaves. Le sigh. Ever the gentleman.
Jogging up the stairs two at a time, I can practically hear my bed calling my name. The headache, the soreness and the shame are all teaming up with a plan to keep me nestled beneath my covers all weekend. Not that I’m complaining. Despite my inner complaining, I don’t regret last night. Somehow, I managed to have a self-proclaimed king at my mercy and all of his attention honed on my pleasure, as if his entire world revolved around my body for one single night.
And then, the morning after, my self-appointed savior reminds me I won’t be facing Rhys’ wrath alone. It won’t be long before there’s some sort of retaliation for running from his frat house with another man. That would be an ego beating for any man, whether the lesson was long overdue or not. But Rhys needs to learn he can’t have everything his own way all of the time.
Approaching my door, I notice another gift bag identical to yesterday’s hanging from the handle. This one has lilac tissue paper poking out and is missing any kind of tag. The audacity of that bitch! I locate the spare key balanced on top of the doorframe and let myself in, promptly chucking the gift bag onto the dresser. The room is still, the curtains still drawn even though the sun has turned them almost transparent. I drop down onto my bed with a groan, causing a lumpy shape in Addy’s bed to stir at the same time her fuchsia-covered head appears from behind it.
My brows raise and a smile grows across my face. Tut, tut, naughty girl. For the ease of my eyes, I click my receivers into place to wish the pair a good morning, and then promptly tell them to take it elsewhere before I pass out. I open my mouth as the cover drops down.
A busty brunette with several tattoos and dermals similar to Addy’s shoots upright, wide eyed and flustered. Jumping from the bed, she gathers all of her clothes and chunky boots from the floor and scampers into the hallway butt naked. I try to tell her there’s no need to be shy but she’s gone before I can form a sentence. I gape at Addy, who’s face has turned a color to match her hair.
“Well, it didn’t take too long to get over Aaron. Should I be worried about you mounting me in my sleep now?” I laugh, dodging the sequined cushion Addy has chucked at my head.
“You’d be so lucky!” She squeaks, wrapping herself in the sheet to hobble over onto my bed. I grumble and shove her aside, trying to lay my head onto the pillow but she’s surprisingly strong. “Nah ah! You owe me alllll the juicy details! What happened with Rhys and why can I smell Clayton on you?”
“Later,” I groan, shoving her again. My head falls back onto my pillow and I sigh with the biggest smile on my face. Sweet bed, sweet dorm room, and once I tug off my receivers, sweet silence. Addy tucks me in, no doubt demanding that I spill my secrets later. I drift into a blissful sleep before I can ask how she even knows what Clayton smells like.
Chapter Twenty Five
Peterson’s monotone fills both the room and my head, sinking into the background like white noise. He’s scrawling some equation across the whiteboard, his sleeve already streaked with black marker, but I’m not hearing a single word. I’m too aware of the two bodies flanking me.
Any hopes of an easy morning were dashed when Rhys materialized in the classroom doorway. He appeared far too alert, as if there was a triple shot of coffee in his protein shake. Instead of taking his usual seat up front, he slouched in the chair to my right, legs spread wide and twisted in my direction. Keeping my back straight, I’m determined to ignore whatever game he’s trying to play, even if it’s stifling all of my motivation.
Clayton sits to my left, arm stretched along the back of my chair in an act of protection. He’s grown bolder as the class stretches on, his fingers subtly brushing against my shoulder. I don’t need to look to check if Rhys is watching the movement, and if I wasn’t trying so hard to keep them both from blowing up, I would shrug it off. As it stands, Clay is forming a shield around me, his body wound tight with anticipation.
It’s suffocating. Every time I glance up at Peterson, Rhys’s boot taps against my chair leg, pulsing like a countdown. Clayton leans forward, pencil scratching furiously over his notebook, but the rigid set of his jaw tells me he’s seconds from snapping. I can’t tell him to knock it off, I’ve brought this all on myself.
Peterson clears his throat. “Neuroregeneration through protein stimulation. Take notes, you’ll need this for the midterm.” My pen is poised in place, burning an inky hole through my notepad, but I can’t catch a single word, never mind form a sentence.
My mind is hazy from Rhys’ undeterred attention at the side of my face, succeeding in making me uncomfortable. I use my hair to block him out, shifting the pink strands between us. Instead of sleeping all weekend, I slipped off campus with Addy to a salon in the local town. The patchy pink is now a blend of dark dusty rose into lighter ends. Now that it appears much more purposeful, I’m falling in love with how the color sets my green eyes alight.
