24. Rhys

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rhys

It’s a pain walking into the penthouse with my arms full of groceries and my phone plastered between my cheek and my shoulder.

I unceremoniously drop all the bags as the line continues to ring and fucking ring until it goes to voicemail.

“Hi! It’s Everest! Please leave a message after the beep!”

“Everest Hill, pick up your damn phone,” I growl, gripping my phone so tightly I swear I hear the glass crack. “Also, your voicemail sounds like you snorted sugar. Do something about that.”

Slamming my phone down on the counter, I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I begin to pace, wondering where the ever-living fuck Everest is. We have one day to hurricane-proof the penthouse, and while the storm isn’t here yet, the weather is already going to shit. Is he really this stubborn? Risking his life just to avoid me?

A sort of jittery mess fills my stomach, an uncomfortable churning that makes me shuffle from one foot to the other restlessly. It’s suddenly very dry when I swallow and my fingers tingle as they twitch by my sides. I know what it is I’m feeling. Oh, yeah, I definitely know, and I don’t like it one bit. If I could just jump back to how I was earlier, I would. If I could take this feeling, ball it up, and chuck it off the balcony, I wouldn’t hesitate.

Because I hate the fact that I’m so worried about Everest that I’m damn close to losing my mind. What if he’s hurt? What if his car got stalled somewhere or stuck and he gets caught in the storm? Or worse, who is he riding out the storm with if it’s not me?

I wait just a few more minutes before I get up and walk toward the entryway, putting on my rain jacket without knowing I’m doing it. Just as I finish zipping myself up and grabbing my keys with no particular destination in mind, the elevator doors open.

And Jesus Christ, I can breathe again.

I don’t dare show Everest the overwhelming relief coursing through me as I take in his handsome yet solemn face. His normally styled blond hair is a bit poofed by the humidity, curling slightly at the ends in a way that makes him look his age. He glances up at me, eyes guarded, but the angry pink flush that covers his cheeks gives him away. He’s acting like I’m going to lash out at any minute, wary of me, and he’s not entirely unjustified.

“Ow!” he shouts, rubbing his arm where I delivered a particularly harsh punch. “What in the fresh fuck?—”

“Where have you been?” My relief at seeing him mixes with the absolute annoyance that I had to worry about him in the first place.

He shrugs me off easily. “None of your business.”

“How could you be out on the streets at a time like this?” I yell, following and blocking him as he tries to sidestep me to the stairs.

He raises one eyebrow and turns to look at the window beside him. When he looks back at me, he snorts. “A time like this?”

My stomach sinks with something akin to embarrassment as I glance out the window. Sure, it’s raining, but it’s more of a drizzle than anything else.

“A time to remember to turn off your sprinklers? Or maybe put the succulents out?”

“Don’t be a prick. There’s a fucking hurricane coming,” I snarl, even though I’m not too sure why I sound so angry when I feel the exact opposite. He doesn’t take the bait and simply stares at me blankly, almost apathetic, before trying to walk around me. I panic once again and reach for him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He inhales a deep breath, hanging his head. When he raises his eyes, they don’t meet mine. They’re big and watery, his jaw clenched and his cheeks red, as if he’s?—

“Baby, have you been crying?”

I don’t know what possesses me to ask that. I also don’t know why the word baby crossed my lips so easily as anything but a taunt, but one look at those big green eyes shimmering with tears shatters the last of my will. Everest is no longer the fucker who taunted me about my life, pointed out my failures, and broke my future. He’s just Everest, the little kid who could do no wrong, who always managed to soften me in a way no one ever has before.

“Talk to me,” I say quietly, cupping his cheeks when tears start to fall. “Fuck, what happened?”

“I-It’s not-thing,” he stutters. Wiping his nose, he tries to move around me. “F-Fucking let m-me go, Rhys.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” I snap as a different kind of panic consumes me. Then a thought hits me. “Was it Knox? I’m going to fucking kill him?—”

“Oh, quit it!” he yells, slapping my hands away. “For the last time, he’s just a friend !”

“Then what is it?”

“Rhys, let it go!”

“Fucking tell me what’s wrong!”

“I failed!” he screams, throwing his hands up in the air, tears now freely falling. He sucks in a sharp breath, almost crumbling in on himself. “I… I failed, okay?”

Torn between taking his trembling body in my arms and giving him some space, I raise an eyebrow. “Failed what?”

He sniffles as he slips his backpack off his shoulder, opening it and rifling through until he pulls out a thick packet. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he shoves it in my hands, embarrassment heating his cheeks. I take it slowly, smoothing the edges out until I see the prominent ‘F’ stamped on the front. “Is this your biology test?”

He nods, still sniffling as he stares at his feet. “I… I thought I was going to do well and— fuck —you were right. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” I try to say softly, but it comes out as more of a snarl.

His head snaps up as his red-rimmed eyes lock onto mine. “Yes, you did.”

“I—” But there’s no argument I can make. I was already doubting the shit I said to him, thinking that maybe I went too far, and this just proves I did. “I’m sorry.”

“Right,” he snorts. With a shake of his head, he snatches the packet out of my hand. “This is exactly what you wanted.”

I rear my head back just as he pushes past me. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, cut the shit,” he snaps, turning on his heels and looking down at me from his step on the stairs. “Fucking with me, fucking me, it’s just been a way for you to get in my head. Did you get what you wanted, Rhys? Are you happy now? I’m going to fail this class and prove how pathetic I am.”

“Everest,” I say through gritted teeth, blood boiling as he ignores me and continues to his room. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Why?” he yells over his shoulder. “Want to gloat?”

“Hey!” I bark, snagging him by his elbow just before he can march into his room. Spinning him around, I press him against the wall next to his door and brace my forehead against his. My chest heaves, breaths coming out in harsh puffs as I try to get a handle on what I want to say.

Because it’s all such a confusing contradiction.

I used to have no problem with the idea of him floundering or suffering because he deserved every bit of it, but now? Seeing it in front of me changes that. I’m too soft for him to fight the fact that I just want to take care of him the way I used to.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, brushing my thumb against his cheek, catching a tear as he tries to tear himself away. “I mean it, Ev. I’m sorry the test didn’t go well.”

He doesn’t look like he believes me, still trying to fight against my hold, but something within him must cave to the affection because he sighs as his eyes drift shut. “I’m in way over my head, Rhys. I’m not smart like you or Elton. I’m just…”

“Just what?”

He opens and closes his mouth, but decides to stay silent. That’s okay. While I want to hear what he has to say, I’ll take this. Feeling him relax against me and give in to the comfort is enough. It soothes a part of me I didn’t realize was craving it. It’s different from the way I craved winning the fucked-up game we started, and different from the way I craved some sort of revenge to rain upon him. I’m still hesitant and wary, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles after a long moment when my fingers find his wet hair. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I was just at the library trying to study.”

I hum, my lips quirking into a smile when he lets out a small whine as I pull on his blond strands. “Next time you want to study, just ask me.”

“That didn’t work so well last time,” he jokes, but there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity as his eyes flutter open to meet mine.

“I’ll help you,” I insist.

“Because you promised Elton you’d look out for me?”

My breath hitches as I stare at him. With his head tipped, I can see all the light freckles that dot his nose. His lips look plump, red where he’s been biting at them, and I’m drawn to it. Drawn to the idea of what they’d feel like against mine. Maybe slightly chapped, rough, with his stubble scraping against my skin as I?—

I take a step back, clearing my throat. “Yeah.”

He nods slowly, rolling that same tempting lip into his mouth. Taking in another deep breath, he collects himself, somehow plastering on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Thank you, Rhys.”

“No problem,” I say. To break the tension, I take his wrist and tug him away from the wall. “Come on. Help me get the shutters up and then we can look at your curriculum.”

“Okay,” he says, letting me guide him down the hallway and to the living room.

We prepare as best as we can, making sure all the shutters are up, organizing the food I bought, and laying out all the lanterns and candles anybody that’s ever lived in Florida has in spades.

As the storm clouds roll in—gray, violent, crackling with thunder—I feel a different storm brewing, much more turbulent than anything nature could throw at us. The fear I felt when I didn’t know where Everest was rears its ugly head again, even though he’s right in front of me and in one piece. The unpleasant churning in my stomach returns, but this time it’s when he excuses himself to take a shower, leaving me to sit and think about what happened. I know I dropped my guard, let myself feel anything other than loathing for him, and he could take advantage of it.

But I don’t run from the feeling this time.

And I wonder, when we’re caught in the eye of the storm, what shards of hate will remain between us.