Page 24 of Deafened By Silence
“You’re always late for practice,” Garrett states the obvious, dropping down beside me. Leaning forward with his tattooed forearms on his thighs, he blows the long fringe from his eyes and glances at me.
“I decide when practice starts. Everyone else is too early,” I shrug, much to his amusement.
“I used to be a lot like you,” he muses. I purse my lips, looking across the empty court. There have been many comparisons between Garrett and myself over the year. Just because we both have dark hair, tattoos and reek of sarcasm, doesn’t mean we’re the same on the inside. No one is like me, practiced in the art of concealing rage behind a perfectly placid mask. Garrett watches me out of the corner of his eye.
“Trust me, I’ve seen how quickly life can change. One day, you’re going to want somewhere to turn and find there’s nowhere willing to take you. Food for thought.” I laugh at his ridiculousness, because what he fails to realize is I don’t need anyone. I’m enough company for myself. That way I will never fall victim to the melancholy emotions which tear others down.
Snatching up the ball by his feet, I dribble across the room to end the chitchat I have no interest in being a part of. After a beat, Garrett stands on a sigh and exits in my peripheral vision. Running to the far end of the court, I slam the ball into the basket before doing the same on the other side.
Not for the first time, I wonder why I am actually on this team. For someone who has decided to remain isolated, I’ve entered a sport which means I must depend on others. It was an average day of torturing freshmen and bribing the staff when I noticed Clay’s name scribbled on the sign-up list and something inside me sorta snapped.
Clayton’s a funny fish. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t participate in anything. From what I understand via my sources, he’s already got a record and his own mother can’t even rememberhim. But he continues to call her weekly, and then decided to join a team sport. I joked that I had wanted to terrorize him further, but secretly, I was fascinated. I had to see with my own eyes if he managed to find a shred of happiness despite the life he previously led. But he hasn’t, which means there’s no hope for me either.
Bouncing the ball between my legs as I walk, I allow each thud to resonate with my being. Like a chime passing through me until I’m able to block out unwanted thoughts. Throwing the ball from the center of the court, it hits the back board before dropping into the net. Running after it, I circle back and do it over and over again, each time taking a step back to see how far I can shoot from. It’s evident I’m lacking a challenge in my life if this is what the height of my excitement has come to.
My thoughts turn to the girl who has invertedly dug up all of these unwanted questions. Who has stirred unwanted emotions within me. The one who’s managed to cut through my bullshit, making me re-evaluate everything I stand for. The only girl I can’t have.
I stop so quickly, I almost topple over. What the fuck am I thinking? There is no girl on earth Ican’thave, and just like that, I see what the issue is. I drop the ball, its small bounces pounding across the wood as clarity clears my jumbled mind. The allure, the appeal, the attraction. It’s all because she isn’t pawing at my feet, begging for a scrap of notice.
By refusing me, she’s only enticed me. There’s appeal in the unknown, and now I realize that, I’m determined to know her inside and out by the end of next week. A smile grows across my face, a light giddiness filling my chest. She will put up a good chase, but I have eyes on my prey now. To rid her from my system, I’ll have to revert to my base instincts.
Fuck and forget, then I can focus on casting her out quicker than she can scream,“More, Rhys, more!”
Chapter Sixteen
“Give me my phone back.” I glare, planting my hands on my hips just to stop myself from punching Rhys in his smug face the second he steps into the locker room. I had to run back to my dorm for my damn receivers before spending two full hours hunting this tattooed asshole down.
In hindsight, I probably should have started with the basketball court instead of the gym, the pool, the girls’ locker room, and definitely before spying through the window of the cesspit he calls home. But whatever. I found him.
Rhys stands in the doorway and looks me over, a strange sense of happiness settling over him. I refuse to let my confusion show, entering a stare-off until I hold my hand out expectantly.
“Phone. Now.”
Chuckling to himself, Rhys peels off his jersey like he’s auditioning for a slow-motion shampoo commercial, dragging it up his chest with a casual flick of his wrist. My eyes roll so hard I almost sprain something. He strolls to his locker and punches in the code. After a full minute of unnecessary flexing, he finally slams the door shut and struts over with his usual shit-eating grin.
“You really should have a passcode, Babygirl.”
I snatch the phone out of his hand and immediately open all the apps I use daily, half-expecting to find everything rearranged or worse. Surprisingly, there isn’t a single fake text. No new photos, namely no dick pics. Weird. I open the college messenger and see there’s also nothing new from Clay. I suppose that’s the end of that.
“I wouldn’t waste my time with him if I were you.” Rhys peers at my screen, before reaching across and tapping the block button. I cancel it right away, though I don’t know why I even care. Rhys shrugs, his smile lopsided as he kicks off his sneakers and drops his shorts to the floor right in front of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I start to turn away, until something shiny catches my eye. In fact, many shiny things. Rhys is pierced with a singular stud in the head of his dick, and a hint of a Jacob's ladder trailing the underside of his shaft. His tattoos trail all the way down to the base, swirling black lines that enhance his generous size. Holy hell. I stare, horrified and slightly fascinated, as his long cock twitches like it’s glad for the attention. My face heats and I whip around instantly.
“No need to be shy. Next time you’re horny, save your batteries and come find me instead.”
“My vibrator’s rechargeable,” I shoot back, flipping him off over my shoulder and walking away. I got what I came for. The showers start up to my right, an instantaneous billow of steam thickening the air. Halfway out of the door, Rhys’ voice stops my feet in their tracks.
“Oh, before you go,” he calls out, humor lifting his tone, “I figured out what your payback can be.” I still with one hand pressed against the door. Everything in my head screams not to engage but my mouth moves regardless.
“Payback for what?” I play dumb. Rhys just laughs, and I lower my forehead against the cool door. Whatever is aboutto happen, I know I should have just owned up to cheating on Peterson’s essay and taken the punishment. Instead, I’m here, turning back and make my way toward the showers. I lean against a metal door markedCoach’s Office, arms crossed, silently waiting for whatever nonsense Rhys is about to drop.
From this angle, I can see the back of Rhys. His back ripples, the creamy skin untouched by ink. It’s a stark contrast to his front, and my eyes trail south. I’m headstrong to a fault, but even I can appreciate a cute butt when I see one. It’s a refreshing side to Rhys, pun intended, to see him all soft edges and carefree without putting on an act.
Probably because he’s sensed I’m watching, Rhys takes his sweet time. He lathers gel in his hands, spreads it across that artwork of a body, and lets the bubbles slide down until they swirl around the drain. When he finally speaks again, it’s under the roar of the water, and I have to step closer just to hear him properly.
“I’m having my usual party after the game Friday. You’re going to be there.”
I scoff, shaking my head even though he’s not looking my way. I’ve been chasing him around campus for hours, bracing myself for the worst-case scenario, and he’s talking about his parties again? I can’t grasp why this is so important to him, why he cares if I attend or not.
