23. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

S tretching back, I lift my arms above my head and groan. Dax must be the only guy in the world who thinks a study date is exactly that; studying. The library chair has long since made my ass go numb and any attempt at jesting is immediately shot down. High above my head, a domed skylight shows that evening has fallen. I outstretch my leg, accidentally brushing Dax's. He quickly whips his back, keeping his eyes firmly on his textbook across the table. No one likes studying that much, I decide. This isn't about studying; this is about Wyatt.

"Fucking cockblock," I huff. Dax's brow raises and he peers up at me.

"Excuse me? "

"Nothing." Hunching over my book, I return to my highlighting. We decided to divide and conquer for our essay, which I reckon was Dax's excuse to sit on the opposite side of the table and ignore me. The yearning still lights his blue eyes, but he's keeping it under strict control. I wasn't sure if he'd even be there, at the end of my therapy session, with milkshakes as promised. He was, but none of the flirtatious touches were. Being interrupted by Wyatt's rage has really done a number on him.

Around us, the low hum of chatter picks up. I watch it pass through the tables, the excitement building and smiles growing. Whispers grow into giggles, flurries of students packing up and leaving. My curiosity grows as a pair of girls lean over the table, showing phone screens to their friends. Retrieving my own from my backpack, where it has remained on silent since therapy, I finally see what the fuss is about. A Fall Ball happening in a couple of weeks.

"Hey, have a look at this," I slide the device over to Dax. He glances over it, his shoulders remaining just as rigid. He makes a grunting noise and returns to his notes. I wait for a few moments, stewing over my options.

A ball could be fun. Part of embracing the experience and all of that, but I can't show up alone. I doubt any of the girls I vaguely know will pass up the chance to have dates on their arms. Dax would be the perfect date. He's thoughtful and sweet. He's never once touched me without an invitation, always happy for me to take the reins and when we kissed, it was purely unexpected chemistry. I want to see what else we can do, what else we could be, if he'd allow it.

"So…Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

Mid-sip of his water bottle, Dax chokes, his eyes wide and panicked. "But…I…" he seems stuck between confused and pained. "I thought you liked me?"

"I do," my cheeks flush. "That's why I'm asking."

"No, clearly you have a fucking death wish for me." Dax closes his book and swallows hard. "After this afternoon, if Wyatt saw me taking you to a ball, he would tear out my intestines and hang me with them." I slump back in my chair, lips pursed. Yeah, Dax is sweet and thoughtful, but he's not as bold as the others. Chewing on that thought, the tension grows thick between us. Suddenly, the two chairs either side of me are dragged backwards and I find Garrett and Huxley crowding my space.

"No need to pout, Peach," Garrett tucks my hair behind my ear. "Axel is already taking you to the dance."

"He is?" I ask at the same time as Huxley does. There seems to be more that the blond hanging over my shoulder wants to say, but I turn a quizzical gaze on Garrett. "Why?"

"Why wouldn't the hottest guy want the hottest girl on his arm? It's status quo," Garrett smirks and shrugs. I'm not buying it. Now most of the library has emptied out, the three men sitting around me hang on some unspoken truth I'm yet to know.

Garrett reclines, threading his hands on his lap. As his smirk falls away, the weight of his burdens finally shows through. His eyes are still dark from bruising, but beneath that, there's the hint of sleep deprivation. His mouth tilts, worry framing his unusually stoic features. I feel an ache to bring the smile back, to run my fingers through his brown hair and ease his troubles, but hiding behind a mask isn't the answer. I need to know what's tumbling around his brain as much as I need my next breath. Finally, Garrett sighs, his dark eyes traveling to the window.

"Axel deserves love. Fuck knows, he deserves it more than any other fucker in this world. He deserves to be with someone who can flaunt him, kiss him in public, hold him through the night. He deserves it all."

I look around, finding neither of the other two will meet my eye. Reaching out, I push my fingers in between Garrett's to hold his hand.

"From where I'm sitting, he has all of that. With you."

Garrett's laugh is bitter, that smile returning to push everything else into the background.

"You give me too much credit, Peach. It's because I care for him, I won't move on without finding a suitable replacement. "

"Oh, how romantic." I deadpan. "How did you know my lifelong dream is to become a scapegoat for someone too afraid to admit he's in love with his best friend?" My question goes unanswered. From the side glance Huxley gives me, it would appear I've summarized what everyone is thinking but would never say. As fun it is peeling back the layers to Wyatt's tormented friends, I have a hard enough time keeping up with my own issues. Packing away my books and planting my bag on the vacated chair, I lean on the back of it.

"If Axel wants to take me to the Ball, he can grow some balls and ask me himself." Arms instantly wind around my waist, a firm chest pressed against my back. Heated words are whispered into my ear, making me warm in all the right places.

"Avery, will you go to the Ball with me?" Axel breathes. I shudder at his unannounced appearance, wishing there weren't four sets of eyes watching me equally blush and melt. It's hard enough to remember we're still in public. Every day, these boys give me another naughty impulse. Very soon, something is going to have to give.

My lips part, a shallow breath escaping. Whiplash. That's what this feeling is. Chronic whiplash. Every time I think I have a handle on my life, they appear to spin the world on its axis. It's impossible to understand what I can't control, and even more impossible to keep them away. I seriously need to get laid, I muse to myself, as the immediate available options stare at me, hanging on my response.

"Yes, Axel. I'll go to the dance with you."