21. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

T hankfully, Mrs. Patrick has left us to work in pairs or small groups for today's assignment. After the audition yesterday, Meg finally got her wish to relax in our pjs and watch movies. Garrett let us use his bedroom for the flatscreen TV, but only because he spent the day also in the bed and stealing most of our snacks. I didn't mind, his interest in our chick flicks was adorable. We all had dinner together before Meg had to leave. It was pleasant, and even better because there was no sign of Wyatt.

"So, when do you hear back?" Dax asks in a hushed whisper. Our desks are turned into one another's, giving more room for my highlighters to cascade over the surface .

"By Wednesday," I half-shrug, not trying to seem too smug. Miss Nightingale was so pleased to see us fly through the doors just as she was packing away, that I saw her mark a large tick next to my name on her clipboard. The guys did stick around to watch, and Axel did give me that massage as promised.

Checking the time on the wall-clock, I return to our task. By the end of the week, we have to produce a ‘Literary Analysis' essay from a provided list of novels. We'd quickly decided on To Kill a Mockingbird, as there is so much to work with.

"Okay," I sit up straight and poise my pen. "So I've divided the page into four parts. Literary devices, character development, overall structure and the relation of the theme to the time period. You start spitballing ideas and I'll jot them down." When I look up, Dax's blue eyes are shimmering, his mouth curving upwards. "What? Why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not laughing at you," he chuckles and I raise an eyebrow. "I just think it's cute you're the only one in this room not using a MacBook." My eyes drag across the desks, indeed noting that everyone else is huddled over their devices. I frown, clutching the paperback to my chest.

"But I can't annotate the pages on a screen," I pout. Dax's smile spreads further .

"I mean, technically-" he starts. My eyes dart to the clock again. "Do you have somewhere else to be?

"Hmm? Oh no, not at all. Actually, I was thinking we should head to the library after and keep going while this is all fresh in our minds. I reckon we could write the entire essay in a couple of hours."

"As delightful as that sounds," Dax leans on his hand, watching me in an almost dreamy state, "I have practice after lunch and you clearly have plans you're avoiding. A common trait of yours, as I understand it." I look away. He's referring to how I tried to miss the auditions and has just clarified that the guys do talk about me behind my back. I wonder how much they actually share, given the sticky situations I've been in with a few of them.

"Fine. Meg booked me an emergency appointment with the school counselor. It's meant to start-" The bell rings. "Now-ish." The room begins to stand and pack up, while Mrs. Patrick shouts instructions for our next lesson. Dax collects up my stationary while I make sure our notes are all neatly stacked in my notepad.

"I'll make you a deal," he says, zipping up my backpack. "I'll walk you over to the administration block for your session, and afterwards, we'll have that library date you are so eager about." I chew on my bottom lip, pretending to think about it. Quality time in Dax's soothing company rather than alone at the desk in my dorm; it's a no brainer .

"Only if you bring milkshakes," I concede with a small smile.

"Cream and sprinkles, right?" Dax steps closer and my face sets on fire. His tanned skin is flawless, his blue eyes searching mine. I forget to breathe when he's this close and looking at me so openly. Perhaps I've become too used to hidden intentions. Tilting my head back, my lips part. Pulling my bag onto his shoulder, he cups my jaw, tracing a small pattern with his thumb.

"Stop stalling. We have to go," he whispers, then smirks wide. Groaning, I stomp out of the room with him right behind.

Our luck with the weather has come to a sudden end. Rain thunders against the concrete courtyard, the sound of it covering those running between the buildings. I tuck my hair into the neckline of my gray sweater and pull the hem lower over my black skinny jeans. The Converse were a terrible choice, but they're my favorite. Just as I'm about to bolt through the doorway, a cover is held over my head. Dax holds his coat in place, urging me to run. We make it to the admin block, pushing through the huge, rounded doors.

"Who taught you to be a gentleman?" I ask offhandedly. He nudges me.

"I've always been a mommy's boy, to a fault really." Wiping our shoes on the mat, we walk down the hallways. "I've done some things I'm not proud of, but I always try to be the man my mom would have been proud of. It sees me through the day-to-day." I don't miss his use of past tense and my brow furrows.

"Dax," I breathe. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. She raised me with love and compassion. You know what it's like. You have to find the good bits and focus on those."

Rounding the corner, his hand brushes the back of mine. Electricity runs through me. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, that same tension we narrowly avoided in class rushes back. Standing over me, I'm forced to look up. My neck is exposed for his fingers to trail over and slide around my nape. He doesn't pull back this time. The chemistry we've been dancing around is blatant, my eyes growing hooded. I want his lips on me, all over me. I want the touch of a man who would never cause me any harm, someone who yearns to keep me safe. Who puts my well-being first and keeps me grounded.

A small smirk appears on Dax's flawless face as I close the last few inches of distance. From the first brush of lips, our mouths clash in a magnetic frenzy. Nothing like what I expected from the sweet Dax I've come to know. Those longing looks and lingering touches finally take over, charging the air between our bodies. Chests pressed together, hands seeking a closer connection, Dax takes my face in his palms. He tilts and opens me up to him, his tongue chasing mine. My fingers become tangled in his t-shirt, pulling him closer as if he'll disappear. As the world melts away, leaving only the lingering taste of desire on my lips, a body suddenly crashes through the center of us.

The hammering of my heart slams to a swift halt, my lungs constricting. The man standing in between us is equal height with Dax, but his focus is squarely on me. Reddened cheeks, green eyes blazing. Swallowing harshly, his nostrils flare. It's that same look from when he caught me with Garrett at the club.

"Are you able to go one day without whoring yourself out?" Wyatt steps forward. I stumble, preparing to fall until Dax catches me.

"Dude?!" he shouts, stilling Wyatt from walking away. I look up at Dax, still held at an odd angle in his arms. Those soft, open blue eyes are locked down, his jaw set. His entire face has been transformed, seeming unfamiliar from the man I'm beginning to know. Wyatt can be an asshole to me, I'm used to it, but Dax? I don't want to be the reason he loses his compassion.

"It's fine," I brush my hand over his cheek. Wyatt's head is turned, watching with a tick beating in his jaw. Taking my backpack, I straighten and square my shoulders. "I couldn't care less about Wyatt's opinions. He's always been wrong about me before." With that, I stroll away. Locating Counselor Lorna's room, I slam the door behind me and throw myself into an hour of moaning about my asshole stepbrother and his insistence on ruining my damn life.