Page 29 of Burned By Sin
Between Clay’s passionate, slow thrusts and the scrape of his stubble on my cheek, something cracked wide open between us. His kisses worshipped me, his hands admiring my body with a need for me to do the same in return. I still don’t know what the extent of Clay’snightmare was, but it has awakened an urgency for affection I’ve never seen from him before.
Now he sits at my side, almost a new man. His muscles aren’t tightly coiled, he’s not glaring around in suspicion. In fact, there’s a hint of a smile gracing his lips. Someone sought to rid this campus of Clayton, and he’s back. Unbeaten and undeterred.
Christmas feels like it was months ago, not just two weeks. The morning after the night I spent cradled in Clay’s arms, his cock buried inside of me, Rhys not so subtly found a way to put me on a private jet so I could spend some time with my Aunt, deciding to drive my Audi back to campus himself.
Although it was nice to be back amongst the cat hair and my dusty paperbacks, I can’t say my Aunts interrogations were particularly enjoyable. Where have you been, why haven’t you called, where’s your car, is that a hickey?! I love my Aunt, but within a few days I was longing to be back at Waversea. Now I am, thanks to a limo and chauffeur at Rhys’ request, filled with the optimism that this year will be better.
At the front of the hall, Peterson walks in, straightening his lab coat with the small microphone clipped to his lapel. Rhys has been a busy boy in his time back. Each of my tutors now have brand new mic clips that they are expected to wear, to save me running back and forth with my own. Peterson briefly glances across the room, not missing a beat before getting straight to business.
“Welcome back everyone. I hope you had a refreshing break and all that. As a part of our new topic this term, you will be expected to complete a project of your choosing. Make full use of the labs and equipment to back up your findings with evidence. You may work alone or with others, but you must produce individual essays on your findings.” That last statement was spoken closer to the mic on his lab coat and was clearly meant for me. I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to bite back that it was one time.
A few rows ahead, Kenneth’s head whips back so fast, I worry hemight snap his own neck. Initially I thought the plea in his eyes was to partner up with me, but if I move my head ever so slightly, I can see his intended target is Clay. The desperation spreads to a wobble in his lip, the extent of how much he’s missed his roommate evident for everyone to see. Sniggers are passed around, hidden behind hands and textbooks so I can’t decipher where they came from.
Shifting uncomfortably, Clayton drops an arm over the back of my chair, sealing some decision I wasn’t a part of. Kenneth runs from the room with his face in his hands, whilst my hearing is focused on Peterson reading through the criteria on the whiteboard. I’m not getting involved.
“The topic of this project is open to personal choice but must correlate to the human body. If I have to read about asthmatic pigs or diabetic rats anymore, I’m going to quit in favor of becoming a marine biologist instead. Sea life can’t complain about the deadlines they were aware of or moan about the grades they deserve.”
I share a confused look with Rhys. Despite turning away, I can still hear Peterson muttering under his breath, my microphone picking up on a rant about fish being the only schools that should exist. I’m going to hazard a guess that the winter break wasn’t kind to our professor.
His lecture drones on, a humdrum sound I try to follow but can’t seem to hold onto. My thoughts slip, drawn back to Christmas break, specifically that afternoon when I listened to Clay whilst Rhys’s hands were on me. It’s become a recurring fantasy I’d never dare say aloud. But now, with Clay’s arm draped around me and Rhys’s thigh pressed against mine, the air between us feels charged enough to make the idea almost seem possible. A forbidden daydream, the kind that tempts you just by existing.
The thought alone sends a shiver through me, my pulse fluttering in its cage, my skin prickling at the ghost of their touch. It’s stupid, really. A fantasy best kept for the dark quiet of my room, where no one can see the way my mind wanders. In reality, the two of them together would be like a lion and a wolf fighting over a carcass, blood anddismembering included. Yeah, no thanks. I’ll settle for them sitting in the same room. At the same table no less, which makes me feel all kinds of giddy.
Peterson’s voice cuts off suddenly, his attention distracted by the phone he drags out of his pocket. I seem to be the only one who notices the change in his posture as he faces the class, assessing each of us in turn with shadowed eyes before glancing at his watch.
“I’ll leave the slides on the board. Last person out switches off the lights,” he huffs loudly in my head and gathers up his belongings. The sound in my head cuts out with the switching off of his mic, the professor exiting class ten minutes after it has started.
After a moment of passing around glances, students jump up and rush out to make the most of the extra time they’ve been gifted. I stay long enough to take notes of the assignment, before packing up both mine and Rhys’ books and pens. Clay catches my attention, confusion bleeding into his onyx eyes.
“You’re carrying his shit around?”
“Oh,” I blink down at my bag. “It’s not like that. We have a deal. Rhys has to write his own notes, but I know for a fact he will have no issues using said-notes as rolling paper for smokes or unnecessary midnight bonfires. So, I keep them safe in my possession between classes.”
I see Rhys chuckling to himself, placing a cigarette behind his ear as he walks past empty-handed. Only when he gets to the door does he pause, looking back to check I’m following. Such a good boy, I muse to myself. Turning back to Clay, the uncertain expression is still present.
“Seems like I missed out on a lot while I was away.” I take his hand in mine with half a smile, not sure how this tag-team dynamic is going to work. But I’ve learnt to enjoy what I have and not worry about the future until it slaps you in the face. Once we’ve caught up with him, Rhys walks on as if he’s leading the way, although his frequent glances back suggest otherwise. He doesn’t have a clue what our next class is.
Ignoring the looks from other students as we step into the hallway,more than a few lifting their hands to hide non-discreet comments, I tell myself to keep walking, to pretend I don’t feel the eyes that trail me and sense the whispers of my name. Although a pang of longing wishes we were still in the rental, just the three of us, as unrealistic as that is. The world doesn’t stop turning and I’m not going to graduate by hiding away.
Further down the row of lockers, a vibrant pink head of hair whips back and forth. I raise a brow, closing the distance between myself and Addy. There’s no need for her to be in the science block, but the panic in her brown eyes is reason enough. Spotting me, she stops fidgeting with the strap of her backpack and rushes forward.
‘Harper, something’s happened,’she signs, blocking everyone else out of our conversation. My gut flips, the optimism I started the day with fleeing. Addy glances at Rhys and Clay behind me, then back down to her hand, where she’s clutching something small and pink.‘This was slipped under our door. It’s got your name on it.’
I take it from her, my pulse already spiking. The paper is heart-shaped, cut unevenly, edges frayed, as if whoever made it used dull scissors. It smells faintly of marker ink and something chemical, paint thinner maybe. The handwriting inside is bold and jagged, pressed so hard the paper has nearly torn.
You shouldn’t have brought him back.
The words curl in on themselves, black ink bleeding into the paper like veins. There’s a small smear where someone’s thumb must have dragged across the wet letters, a print left behind in a faint reddish tint. My mind snags on it, the methodical side of my brain cataloguing details before the rest of me can process the meaning. The pressure points in the loops of the letters. The slight tremor in the downstrokes. Whoever wrote this was angry, but deliberate.
My breath snags as Clay’s shadow falls over me, his fingers plucking the paper from my grip. Addy shifts uneasily, the bright smile she had this morning a distant memory. We were so excited to be back, spending last night unpacking our duffles and sortingout our backpacks for a fresh, new semester. Now, we’re straight back in the midst of someone else’s game.
Peering over my shoulder, I watch Clay’s expression darken as he scans the message. His fingers twitch slightly, crumpling the paper without meaning to. Rhys moves closer to read it too, his jaw ticking once before his gaze flicks to mine. We’ve spent long enough together to know what the other is thinking, and Rhys is contemplating murder. He just doesn’t know who’s.
The same gossipers from before have huddled nearby, pretending to shuffle books into their bags, their ears pricked and eyes wide. I scan their faces one by one, looking for a flicker of guilt, a curl of a smile, anything that gives them away, but they’re all too practiced in feigning innocence. Phones are already out, ready to capture a new post for the student forum, giving a front row seat to my reaction. I’ll be damned if I give them the satisfaction.
Slowly, I inhale, forcing a calm I don’t feel to take over. Then, deliberately, I place myself between the two gorgeous men either side of me, Clay on my right and Rhys on my left, before plastering on a nonchalant smile.
“I don’t know about you two,” I say lightly, plucking the note from Clay’s hand and tossing it aside like the trash it is, “but I’m ready for my third coffee of the morning.” They both eye me curiously, but don’t question my behavior. Addy stares as if I’ve grown another head, but I sign that I’ll catch her later. Together, we walk through the crowd without a care in the world, or at least that’s what I want everyone around us to think.
