11. Everest

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Everest

I am an absolute idiot.

Well, maybe not an idiot, but I’m definitely not bright. That much has been made exceedingly clear in the last hour and a half. As I stare down at my homework, absolutely stuck, I ask myself why I ever signed up for Introduction to Accounting . I don’t like math, nor do I want to be an accountant. I just got so flustered when it was time to come up with my summer semester schedule, I panicked. I think I might have ended up picking the first classes I saw because there’s no other explanation why I’m suffering through this.

The rest of my classes are okay. It’s a lot of work—more than I expected I would have—and the panic that rises every time I check the online portal and see another assignment is enough to land me on my ass.

I’m in the kitchen, considering whether a ‘W’ would look terrible on my college transcript, when Rhys waltzes in looking absolutely edible. His sweats are hanging low on his hips and he’s wearing that stupid fucking backward baseball cap. And because there really isn’t a God, he’s shirtless, and I can see all the muscles of his back flex as he heads to the fridge. When he turns around, I quickly duck my head so it’s not completely obvious that I was checking him out.

I focus on my homework and almost get it, when a throat clears and draws my attention away.

“What are you doing?”

I think that my jaw drops. Is Rhys willingly speaking to me? Things have been an entire new level of uncomfortable since I headbutted him. No huge altercations have happened, but it’s been tense, nonetheless. I’ve been waiting for some kind of retaliation, tiptoeing around the penthouse as if he’d pop out any second to attack me. I can see the evidence of our last blowout still on his face, a deep bruise that’s yellowing on the bridge of his nose.

“You going to say anything?”

I realize I’m just gaping at him and shut my mouth. Clearing my throat, I gesture at the obvious. “Homework.”

“And because I'm not a dumbass, I know that,” he quips with an eye roll. “Can you be more specific?”

“It’s for my accounting class,” I explain, breathing through my nose to call back some patience. This is the first conversation we’ve had where we haven’t been screaming at each other, and I don’t want to ruin it. Still, I can’t help my smart mouth. “If you’re such a genius, why don’t you help me out?”

I expect him to just walk away and lose interest, so it shocks me when instead, he rounds the island and sits beside me.

“Let me see,” he mumbles, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pair of glasses.

Holy shit.

“You wear glasses?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry as he puts them on. Jesus Christ, they’re not just any glasses. They’re thick, black-rimmed, and make him look like a porn star. Like fucking Superman.

He raises an eyebrow, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Yeah?”

“Okay,” I croak, subtly adjusting myself as he takes my textbook. He looks it over for a minute, then glances at my laptop.

“Okay.” He points at the chart on the screen. “We’re dealing with debits and credits. This question is asking you to interpret the graph.” As he leans in, his shoulder rubs mine, and my breath hitches. Is this really happening?

“So, this column is the debit and that one is the credit. You following me?”

How can I when he’s this close to me, half naked, wearing his porn glasses, and sending mixed signals to my half-hard dick?

I nod through a gulp. “Yeah.”

“So, it’s weird, because debits and credits are different in the accounting world than in the banking world.”

“Because a credit is money you have going in?” I question.

He nods. “Exactly. But in this chart, your debit is what you’re liable for and your credit shows which account is going to fulfill it.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Um, okay?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he questions blandly.

My cheeks heat in embarrassment, and I chuckle. “It’s a bit confusing. Hell, how did you even know what it was?”

“Because I can read,” he scoffs, pointing at the open textbook. “It says it right there.”

That hits me the wrong way. I’ve always struggled to keep up in school, finding that it was hard to pick up new information. I had to bust my balls to graduate and damn near sell my soul to get into college. I was never Ivy League bound like Rhys and Elton, and I’ve never resented them for it until now.

“Well, if I’m such a dumbass, don’t bother helping me,” I snap, yanking my textbook away.

His eyes widen before they narrow. “Did those words come out of my mouth?”

But I’m on it and not willing to listen. I shoot up out of my seat. I should be smarter than this, more careful. He’s trying to make an effort here, but he’s making me feel so stupid, so inferior, and I… I can’t handle it. “You’re just a genius, aren’t you? So much smarter than the rest of us.”

“Calm down, Everest,” he warns, but I don’t listen. I just keep going, knowing I should keep my mouth shut, but doing the exact opposite.

“Rhys and his big brain. Too bad it’s busy rotting away slinging cocktails to drunk assholes.”

He scoffs, getting up and shaking his head. “Fine. I tried the nice shit, and it didn’t work. Go fuck yourself. You’re such an idiot. Enjoy flunking out of college.”

Spinning on his heels, he takes the stairs up to his room. His words linger with me, though.

The reminder that I’m completely in over my head rattling me enough to where I don’t get a single piece of work done for the rest of the day.