Page 26 of Deafened By Silence
Clay’s breath brushes the shell of my ear, warm and quick, his chest rising and falling in short bursts against my back. The closet is so tight I can feel the thump of his pulse where his wrist presses against my ribcage. Darkness stretches in every direction, and the feeling of safety envelopes me thoroughly.
Outside, footsteps drag past the door. One of the cheerleaders mutters something about splitting up again. Another whines about catching her heel on the stairs. The tension in Clay’s body tightens, seeking to cover every inch of me as if we’re on a battlefield. I focus on the rhythm of his breathing, acutely aware of every place our bodies are touching, and quickly become less concerned about the girls outside. They can find us for all I care, I know I won’t be taking the brunt of their outrage and gossip alone.
We wait a minute. Maybe two. The voices grow distant. The click of heels fade. Clay’s fingers drift, pushing down on my shoulder as he leans over just enough to peer through the crack between the door and the frame. I can no longer hear anything beyond the wood, yet I don’t breathe. I don’t move. For whatever reason of being too headstrong for too long, I don’t want Clay to stop holding me like this.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, Clay’s warmth seeping through my back. I breathe in his woodsy scent, rest about his tightly corded muscles. Turning my head ever so slightly, the stubble on his jaw grazes my cheek. My veins set alight with a newfound energy.
“Clay.” I clear my throat as quietly as possible, hoping the flush in my cheeks will die down before I have to face him properly. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then his mouth shifts to brush the edge of my hair.
“I use one of the chemistry labs for extra study, Peterson gave me a key. When you jostled the door handle, I saw you werebeing chased so I sent them the wrong way and waited here in case you realized it was a dead end. I didn’t think they’d come back around so quickly.”
I turn my head further, enough to catch the outline of his jaw and the fabric curve of his beanie. The tension between us shifts again, less from danger and more from awareness. I feel it in the way my spine arches as his hand drops to my hip, lingering a little longer than it needs to. The shift has brought another sensation to life, one that is now pressing against the curve of my ass. Oopsie.
Twisting to put an inch of distance between us, I turn the handle and half spill out into the hallway. The light spills over us in a harsh flood. My eyes instantly fly south, checking out Clayton’s gray sweatpants and a curtain of warmth covers my face. “Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Blinking downwards, Clay flinches and gasps at the same time.
“Oh god, no. No. No, it’s a banana. I skipped lunch.” Completely avoiding my eye line, he pulls the offensive fruit from his sweatpants pocket. The peel is squashed and bruised, a sad sight from my ass grinding all over it. “Not to say…no, just not…this time? Gah.” Clay rubs the back of his beanie while his face reddens. I press my lips together to hold in the trickle of laughter that wants to break free.
I don’t know which one of us wants the ground to open up and swallow us more. Tugging his beanie further down, Clayton turns to leave, probably to go rethink his entire existence, and I almost let him. Almost. But beneath the crushing embarrassment we’re both feeling, a flicker of clarity cuts through.
I need to stop this. Not justthismoment, butallof it. The close calls, the cramped hiding spaces, the ridiculously chargedsilences with the two guys I should be running from, not flirting with in dark cupboards.
“Sorry for ruining your study time, and thanks for the rescue,” I offer weakly. “I’m sure I won’t need any more.” An attempt at a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. Halting his stride, Clay looks over his shoulder at me, a strange sort of misery in his eyes.
“Yes you will,” he nods. I tilt my head, straining my receiver. Is that disappointment in his voice? “As long as you keep humoring Wavershit, you’re always going to need rescuing.”
The breath is knocked out of me, a fresh flame of embarrassment rising within. I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why the cheerleaders were chasing me around campus, but the dejected way Clayton says it adds a new layer to the mix. Am I so easy to read? Or am I a walking cliché? The new girl catching the attention of the bully.
Clay walks away, leaving me questioning my life choices but he’s right. I will continue to need saving and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to be Rhys’ date on Friday after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Lying back on my bed, I gave up trying to play Jeremy’s guitar a while ago and now it just rests across my chest while I stare at the ceiling. Kenneth picked up an extra shift and said he was going to study hall afterward, which gave me some much-needed time alone. Though now that I actually have it, I’m starting to realize solitude might be the exact opposite of what I really want. Take away the window and shove five psychopaths-in-the-making into my shower and I could be back in the JDC for all I know.
Moments like this make me feel like I’d take just about any job that would have me, mostly for the distraction of doing something other than memorizing every crack in these walls. The extra cash wouldn’t hurt either. But thanks to the permanent shadow of my record, I’m pretty much unhireable until I’ve earned some kind of qualification to prove I’m not a walking liability.
I’d considered calling my mom again, which would make it the second time this week, but there’s only so much of the act I can stomach. At first, pretending to be Jeremy felt like I was doing her a kindness, trying to protect what’s left of her mentalstability. But lately, each phone call feels less like protection and more like a mask I can’t seem to take off. It’s not pretending anymore. It’s hiding.
And then there’sher. I can’t close my eyes without her fabricating in my mind. Harper’s soft skin, her curves, the whisp of her hair against my face, I’m convinced I can still feel it all. She is so small compared to me, yet not fragile in the slightest. I know she doesn’t need my help, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m drawn to her like a drug, getting high on being there when she needs me most. I’m surprised I’m not loitering outside her building, on high alert for the next stunt Wavershit pulls. No, I’ll stay right here, holding Jeremy’s guitar and telling myself I’m better alone. I deserve to be alone.
A knock sounds at my door and I sit up bolt upright. Is it Harper, does she need me?
Fuck’s sake Clayton, get a grip. No one besides Kenneth knows what dorm I’m in, and I’ve worked hard to keep it that way. My privacy is one of the only things I still have any real control over. Assuming the knock must’ve come from further down the hall, I wait, but then it comes again, louder this time.
I don’t hesitate now. I cross the room in a few strides and swing the door open, not sure who or what to expect. For a fraction of a second, my heart kicks hard at the sight of shabby blonde hair and a wide-set frame standing just outside, the ghost of someone I wish more than anything I could see again. But I blink twice, and the illusion breaks.
The eyes staring back at me are warm brown, not endless black. The jawline is too square, and the clothes are all wrong. Jeremy would never wear unlaced tan boots with baggy jeans and a plaid jacket with sheepskin lining. Reality settles in with a quiet thud, dragging the hope inside of me back down where it should stay buried.
“Clayton,” Huxley says with a casual nod in greeting. I eye the sophomore warily, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
“What do you want?”
If Huxley is surprised by my hostility, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he grins.
“A friend of mine is studying psychology this year. Remote learning setup. He needed to take some time off.” Huxley pauses, adjusting the sleeve of his hoodie. I sense a hidden meaning to his words but I also don’t give a shit. “Part of his course includes offering free life coaching sessions to students on scholarship, and according to him, you haven’t taken him up on the offer.”
