28. Everest

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Everest

“Okay, your turn.”

I nibble on my saltine sandwich, stuffed in the middle with deviled ham and Cheese Whiz. Rhys and I are facing each other, our legs wrapped around each other’s hips with a sheet pooled at our waists. We’ve been talking about everything and nothing, taking advantage of the fact that we’re still trapped due to the hurricane.

I snort, nearly choking on my saltine. “That did not happen.”

“Hand to God,” Rhys says. “When I tell you I nearly died, I mean it.”

“I don’t believe someone actually threw up on you.” I try to picture it but get too grossed out. What I can picture, though, is the look on his face after having a customer puke all over his XO shirt. I can practically see the angry twitch in his brow and the barely restrained outburst on his lips. “What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do. I called her ass a cab and put her on the no-serve list.”

“That’s unbelievable,” I laugh. When he stares at me a second too long, I become self-conscious, wiping my chin in case there’s some deviled ham on there. “What?”

He leans forward, settling his lips over mine as he runs a hand through my hair. “I like your laugh.”

Despite the fact that my face is on fire, I try to play it cool. “Oh, so I get compliments now?”

He nibbles gently on my bottom lip. “Yes. One compliment per horrible shit I’ve said to you.”

“I like that,” I mumble, kissing him back, scooting closer so I’m practically on his lap. “Does this mean I need to give you compliments too?”

Chuckling, his nails scratch down my bare back. “It’s only fair.”

“You’re so hot in your glasses,” I confess, fiddling with the frames that rest on his nose. “It’s like getting fucked by Superman.”

“I think you mean Clark Kent,” he corrects. He gives me one final kiss before pulling back. “You like that kind of stuff?”

I shrug, taking another saltine sandwich. “Sometimes. I mostly like sports. You?”

“Reading and sketching. Although, most of what I do is just work.”

“Do you like XO?”

He thinks it over, tipping his head side to side. “For the most part. My boss is chill and the people are cool.”

“Your coworkers, right?” I question. “They seem like it. I don’t really know them too well.”

“I don’t hang out with them much, but we can fix that,” he says, almost as if in passing, but the simple sentence strikes me.

We . As in, part of a unit. The idea that there’s a ‘we’ in the first place is what has my heart stupidly racing. “Yeah, okay.”

With a sigh, he pushes me until I’m on my back and he’s on top of me. Regardless of our position, I know he’s not trying to make a move. He just hovers over me before resting his head on my chest. “Britt is a know-it-all but down to earth. Butch can be a bit boring, but he’s loyal as hell. Cassius is quiet and Skylar is…”

“Is Skylar,” I finish, which earns me a nod and a chuckle. “He seems great.”

“He’s been making fan art of us.”

I don’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it’s flattering as hell. On the other, can we call that creepy? “What do you think it’s of?” I ask, even though I’m not too sure I want that answer.

He smirks, seemingly far too amused by my question. “Maybe something dirty?” Bending down, he trails his lips up my neck. “Maybe we’re both naked and your tight body is on all fours as I plow you?”

I tip my head to give him better access, a whine leaving my lips. Fuck what I said about him not making a move. I’ve changed my mind. “Uh huh…”

“Or maybe this perfect mouth is wrapped around my cock?” he murmurs, running his finger against my bottom lip.

Pausing, he frames my face in his large hands, which causes me to open my eyes. “Rhys?”

“It could be me and you,” he begins, smoldering eyes full of longing burning through my soul. “We could be holding hands on the beach. Lying in bed together, wrapped around each other.”

My breath hitches as I let out a shaky smile. “Yeah?”

It seems so sweet. Tender, almost. Like we’re more than new friends who like to fuck. I don’t know if I want that with Rhys, but I won’t lie and say the thought of us having a real relationship doesn’t make my stomach swoop and heart flutter. But it’s too soon to consider that, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

“What about you?” he asks after a second of silence.

I raise a teasing eyebrow. “Do I have fan art of us?”

“No, smartass,” he snorts, rolling off me to lie on his side, his head propped on his hand. “Are you liking school?”

I open my mouth to answer, but something stops me. A flash of hurt and humiliation. The memory of how crushed I was when Rhys called out my lack of intelligence. I know we’ve moved past it, but the sting lingers, and it throbs now with the subject of my insecurities being brought up.

“It’s fine,” I say passively, averting my eyes to the comforter. “School is school.”

One finger tips my chin up to meet Rhys’s brown gaze. It’s soft and soothing, settling the barely-there tremors my body wants to release. “Be honest with me.”

When he looks at me like that—so full of understanding—with a want to get to know me, I can’t resist. Rhys was always my safe space growing up, and if I want him to be that again, I know that I have to open up.

“It’s not good,” I rush out, my face hot with embarrassment. “I thought I could handle the class load this summer, but it’s really hard. I’m struggling to keep my grades up and some of the material just doesn’t make sense. I know I’m stupid?—”

“You’re not stupid,” he snaps.

“But that’s what you said.”

His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and he looks regretful. The way his brow furrows and the subtle fall of his face tell me that my words hurt him. But his words hurt me too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, meaning it, almost like he wants to reach out to me, but stopping himself. “All those things I said?—”

“They’re true,” I chuckle weakly. “I’m everything you said. Privileged, self-centered, stupid. I need validation because…”

He raises an eyebrow when I trail off and his hand comes to rest on my side. “Because?”

“Because I’m so afraid I’m not good enough.”

Not smart enough. Not talented enough. Not as great as Elton. Second best. Only special because of the one sport I can no longer play.

“Baby…” he mumbles, finally dragging me into his arms. “None of that is true.”

A tear slips down my cheek as I bury my face in his chest. “It is.”

“No,” he growls. Rubbing the back of my head, he presses a lingering kiss on my forehead. “You don’t have to feel that way anymore, Ev. I’m here now and I got you.”

And I breathe those words in, ingraining them into my memory, clinging to them.

Because I hope that’s true.