Page 25 of Deafened By Silence
“I hate parties,” I call back. Rhys is ready for my argument.
“Then your other option is to dress up like a cheerleader and chant my name during the game. Between you and me, I can’t stand cheerleaders.” He runs his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. Catching his side eye, I force myself to keep my eyes in an appropriate place.
“Why do you even want me there?” I throw up my hands. “Another way to humiliate me? The poor little deaf girl who can’t hear the music.” My jaw tightens, an insecurity coming to thesurface before I can wrangle it back down. Thankfully, Rhys is in his own little dream world as he shuts off the faucet.
“Maybe I want you close to my bed,” he says, smirking with that same arrogance that dares me to back out.
“Maybe I’ll bring a date,” I shoot back. He crosses the space in an instant. Suddenly towering over me, close enough that I have to tip my chin up, a dare gleams in Rhys’ eyes. The light fades into something darker. For a depraved second, I wonder what it’d feel like if he ever really let himself go. Would he kiss me or strangle me? Why does either option intrigue me? His chest rises and falls with tension, and I can see the war playing out across his face.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” he breathes. Droplets from his soaked hair hit my skin but I don’t flinch. I lock onto those icy blue eyes, refusing to look anywhere else, especially not at the ink stretched across his bare chest or the ring in his lip he just teased with his tongue. “I would be your date, and you will be mine. That’s my condition of saving your ass earlier.”
“Why would you even want that? I’m literally nobody.” Somehow my voice remains strong, but a small tremor threatens to rise at that last part. For someone who has spent every waking minute of the past ten years trying to disappear, my psyche did not like professing that to Rhys. His smirk is ever present, as if he’s withholding a dark secret.
“Harper Addams,” he chuckles, lifting a hand to tuck my hair behind my receiver. “I think you might be the most somebody I’ve ever met.”
Consider my brain short-circuited. A shudder rolls through me at his admission, my tongue darting out to touch a droplet that lands on my lip. Rhys tracks the movement like an eagle, zeroed in on his prey. My lashes flutter, the stretch of my neck putting me in prime position for Rhys to dip his head and close the few inches between us.
A shrill voice cuts through the room, slicing through my skull. I wince, my hands flying up to my receivers. Rhys catches them by the wrist, holding my hands softly against his damp chest. Klara storms straight up to her naked boyfriend like a blonde hurricane of fury. Her black and yellow pom-poms lie abandoned on the floor, her cheer top printed withRhys’s #1.
Rhys doesn’t seem to care for her presence, raising my hands to his mouth. He places slanted kisses on my knuckles, time freezing in place. Both Klara and I are stunned, playing along with Rhys’ whims. He drops his face to my hearing aid, his wet fingers easing my hair aside.
“I’ll see you at the party,” he whispers before slinking back into the shower and turning the water on once more. From the brief glance I couldn’t resist, it appears he’ll be having a cold shower this time.
Also ignoring Klara, because what the fuck am I supposed to say about anything that just happened, I stride away and successfully walk through the fire exit this time. The sun momentarily blinds me, the freshness of the air almost sending my lungs into shock. Making my way to the bottom on the hill, I pass a group of girls cackling like witches whilst admiring each other’s hair and nails with fake smiles. I register their cheer outfits, deciding to give them a wide berth, when Klara strikes once again.
“Get that whore!” Klara’s scream travels from the locker room doorway, pointing my way. All heads turn her way at once, mine included. I barely have time for my mouth to part before the band of cheerleaders turn as a unit, their faces twisted like dried up prunes. They lunge forward to grab at me, but I jerk back, quickly sizing up their inappropriate footwear for the winter. I salute them a ‘good luck catching me in kitten heels,’ and take off in the direction of the science block.
Their angry cries echo behind me as they give chase. I yank my backpack straps tighter and dodge through the crowd of students milling around without a care. Skirting the edge of the courtyard, I duck behind planters and weave between stragglers, aiming for the white building up ahead. Not because I think they could actually hurt me, but because getting dog-piled by a swarm of petty Barbie clones isn’t high on my bucket list.
Jumping through the open doorway as a guy opens it, I skid around the corner and slow to a walk passing the lockers. At the far end, a living barbie doll appears with clenched teeth and a scowl that could melt iron. Clearly my advantage in speed is overshadowed by their knowledge of the campus. A group of students appear at my back, blocking me in and leaving me no choice but to race up the staircase on my left. Further away from the dorms I wish I was heading toward, but I didn’t want to lead these psychos directly to mine and Addy’s door.
I don’t know the layout up here, but I figure the halls will form a rectangle like the floor below. My moment’s hesitation costs me as several pairs of heels click against the stairs. Fuck, these girls are delusional and relentless.
Darting to the right, I ignore the closed doors lining each side, anticipating each one will be locked. The professors are long gone. A row of blue lockers sits against the wall opposite huge windows. I scowl at the stadium visible through the glass, the image of Rhys carefree and naked in the shower definitely not filling my mind.
Not letting up my speed, the squeak of my boots on the shiny flooring makes me wince. The overhead lights buzz faintly, casting too-bright reflections on the floor that make it feel like I’m running through a fishbowl. I tear around the corner that should mark the halfway point in the circuit and slam straight into a closed door. Dammit, a dead end.
Pain blooms across my chest and forearms but luckily I manage to avoid hitting my face. I rest my palms on the wood, taking a breather. Surely there’s a way we can talk through this. I didn’t even do anything with Rhys...except stand before his naked body with my face angled upwards for a kiss when his girlfriend walked in. Yeah okay, not my finest moment. The hallway behind me stretches empty for a moment, and then I hear them. Multiple pairs of heels click against the tile, the shrill sound of laughter not far behind.
“Harper,” one of them sings overly sweet. “We just want to talk.”
I dart to the nearest classroom and twist the handle, finding it locked like I knew it would be. The rhythmic slam of locker doors opening and closing echoes down the corridor, as if they’re searching every possible hiding spot they can reach. Another voice joins the first, this one tinged with amusement.
“She ran this way, I swear. You check left. I’ll check this hall.” My pulse hammers against my neck. These crazy bitches are going to tear my face off up here and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s a short distance between me and the opposite hallway which will leave me exposed, but standing here is as good as admitting defeat, so I bolt.
One of them shouts that she saw movement, and their footsteps grow louder. I reach another junction and choose right again, running blindly now, my eyes skimming the wall for something, anything. Online yoga has done nothing to prepare me for this kind of exertion. My legs burn with desperation, threatening to be my downfall. My lungs tighten with each breath, the corners of my vision slightly graying from the effort and the rising panic.
For the hundredth time since Rhys steamrolled into my life, I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing. Running from aggressive cheerleaders, and apparently attending a Friday night party ashis date, where said cheerleaders will most likely be. So much for a low profile.
The second floor is beginning to feel like a maze with no exit. My legs are slowing. I swipe sweat from my brow and focus on the sliver of hope up ahead, a narrow alcove or doorway. I stumble toward it, praying it’s more than another locked janitor’s closet. Just as my fingers grace the handle, a whisper of a shadow from behind startles me. Before I can scream, a hand clamps over my mouth, the door is torn open and I’m yanked into the dark.
The girth and strength of the arm snaking around my middle is undeniable, pinning my back against a firm torso that can’t possibly belong to a female. My struggles are fruitless, but that doesn’t stop me from twisting and kicking out. I’m caged in a hold like steel, the hand remaining tightly closed over my mouth.
After a beat, his other hand raises to my hair and feels for the receiver clinging behind my ear. A relieved sigh sinks in his chest.
“It’s me, it’s Clayton,” he whispers when he realizes I can hear him. With that knowledge, the atmosphere in the closet suddenly changes. The panic doesn't vanish, but it shifts. My heart continues to pound like a war drum in my chest, yet something in me goes slack at the sound of his voice. I stop kicking. I stop writhing. Every muscle holds rigid as the reality of who is holding me begins to settle. Another man who is turning my world on its axis.
It's impossible not to compare Clay and Rhys, considering they’ve both had hands on me in the past half hour. Where Rhys’ touch was teasing, trying to evoke a reaction, Clayton holds me firm. Protectively. His instincts override his desire to be solitary. His hero complex can’t seem to leave me be.
