4. Rhys

4

RHYS

Y ou know what the worst part of being bullied is? The waiting. No no, just hear me out.

The words and jeers and shoves all suck. Clearly no one's debating that. It's the gut-twisting anticipation of the next blow that really does you in. It has you on edge for hours or days at a time, wondering when or where it will happen. If you happened to pick up a good old fashioned, homegrown bully of the schoolyard variety, then there's no real escape for you because they are always there.

Switching schools doesn't always work, nor is it always an option, so you're forced to walk the halls with clammy palms, cold sweat snaking down your spine, and blood pressure so high it would make your cardiologist cry. And I should know…nursing student for the win.

You find yourself constantly checking over your shoulder. If you pass them in the halls, you feel nauseous and instinctively brace yourself for impact. And if nothing happens, you go to bed with a false sense of security that it's over, but you try not to trust that since that's what they want. To catch you unaware and deliver that sickening blow.

So see, the waiting? Yeah, it's the worst.

Tuesday was that day for me. I thought I had left this kind of crap back in secondary school, but bullies are like Herpes. Once you're infected, you're never truly free of them. They might change shape and be different each time, but the end result is the same .

By the time Wednesday morning hit, I was a bundle of nerves and anxiety, which is a super great look on me. Ever seen a nerd spaz out? It's not pretty. Minimal safe distance is fifty feet (or the first six rows might get wet).

Micah even noticed how distracted I was and asked me repeatedly if I was okay. I could have told him what happened with Hawk on Monday, but I knew from lengthy experience there was nothing he could do to help. I'd just have to avoid Hawk and ride out his unfortunate fixation on me. He would come and go like the weirdly attractive Herpes outbreak he was.

However, I was confident going in for my Wednesday morning lecture that I could withstand anything he threw at me. I didn't mean to brag, but I was pretty good at handling bullies. I'd had enough of them growing up that I knew the best ways to avoid, ignore, and persevere.

But now that I'm thinking back on it, maybe I wouldn't have had so many bullies if I had actually been good at handling them…woah. Insight! Okay, so I'm screwed. Good to know.

I shook off that negative, unhelpful thought as I ambled in for my Pharmacology class. I made my way up the tiered stadium seating and slunk to the back rows as usual. Distractions were like catnip to me and paired with the dreaded Spotlight Effect my social anxiety conjured up, I typically had to sit as far back as I could manage in my classes.

I lucked out that the back row was empty and only had a couple of people in the rows directly below. I plunked down into my seat, dropping my backpack and making an obnoxiously loud noise that had several heads turning toward me.

Yep, that seemed on brand…whoops.

I pulled out my notebook and pen, face flushed from my embarrassing clumsy moment and got myself settled as I waited for Professor Graham to start. As assistant professors went, he was very good at what he did and made the rather dry subject fairly interesting. Didn't hurt that he was young and good looking. I wasn't opposed to having some intelligent eye candy teaching my courses. It could have been worse.

I had about ten minutes before class officially started, so I whipped out my phone and reflexively opened Instagram and navigated to Connor's profile. It was a move that I did out of habit now, which only proved how pathetic I had become. I scrolled through the photos mindlessly, having seen them all enough to practically sketch them from memory. Nothing had really changed on it. The last post was still the Bahamas picture, and it still soured my stomach. My thumb hovered over the direct message button as I contemplated reaching out to him.

“He's cute. If you're trying to make me jealous, it's working,” an amused voice rumbled behind me. Every muscle in me tensed and the air froze in my lungs.

Hawk glided into the chair next to mine, effortlessly smooth and practiced. Ugh, of course the cocky, vexing fartknocker would sneak up on me. Makes total sense.

I kept my gaze trained on the podium below me and did my best to freeze him out and ignore him.

“Ah, so you won't talk to me, huh? You shy after our official meet-cute yesterday? I mean, technically that was at the party, but we'll just call that one a mulligan,” Hawk rattled on.

“Nope, not shy. I just hate you,” I replied.

“Why cutie, you wound me. Here I was coming to ask you out and everything,” he said, tone lined with fake disappointment. I made the mistake of looking over to glare at him when I caught his smirk that was dangerously hot. Any hopes I had of my hatred killing my annoying attraction to him went up in smoke.

It was fine. It didn't mean anything. Even Ted Bundy was considered attractive, but people still hated him plenty.

But if I was being completely and unfortunately honest with myself, I most likely would have fallen for Ted's charms, started imagining I could be the one to change him, fantasized about being Rhys Bundy, and then tragically ended up on the wrong end of his crowbar. But that was not happening here!

“Look, you parasitic buttworm, I have no interest in playing this game with you. I'm here to learn and this is an important class for my major, so begone before someone drops a house on you,” I snapped.

Hawk dramatically gasped and clutched at his chest, gaping at me like I slapped his grandma. “Rhys, I am scandalized. I had you pegged as being too sweet to be so cruel…I have to say I'm a little disillusioned. You surprised me. You really did.”

“Yeah, well I hate to be predictable,” I snarked under my breath. I pleaded with all Heavenly forces above for this class to start and for Hawk to be sucked into another dimension or something. I chose to believe anything was possible .

“Okay, seriously though. I came to apologize,” Hawk said quietly. I whipped my head in his direction, convinced I heard him wrong.

“I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I must have had a small stroke because it sounded like you said 'apologize',” I said slowly. A giant, neon “danger” sign was flashing continually in my head, but as with all good warnings and red flags, I simply ignored it for curiosity's sake.

Hawk leveled me with a hard stare. I was beginning to wonder if they pumped hallucinogens into the air like they did at Vegas nightclubs because he almost looked…sincere.

“I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry I came on a little strong, but I really want to start over and see if we could maybe be friends.”

My brain shorted out and I couldn't stop from blinking incessantly. It was like my eyes were trying to hit the reboot button to get me back to normal functioning. Somewhere in my conscious mind, I was aware that this was a trap. I knew it, I felt it. I should have told him to take a long walk off a very short cliff. I should have been outraged and cursed his miserable existence. I should have said no .

That's not what came out of my mouth.

“Okay?” The word slipped out without my permission, and even though it sounded more like a question, Hawk took it and ran with it. Ran real far with it. He probably took it to Canada for all I knew.

His face morphed into a grin that would have knocked me on my butt if I hadn't been sitting down. Without a second of hesitation, he grabbed my phone from my hand and opened my texts.

“Hey! Give me that!” I blurted out involuntarily, lunging for my phone. He lifted it in his left hand, holding it far out of my reach as I saw him type in a number and shoot off a text to someone. He then tossed my phone back to me with a smile as I fumbled and tried not to drop it.

“What is wrong with you? What did you do? Do you even have friends? I mean, your blatant klepto tendencies can't be doing you any favors in that department!” I rushed out as I swiped back to my text screen to see the potential damage.

Out of my periphery, I saw Hawk pull out his phone and unlock it. “Thanks for the concern, but I do indeed have friends. And now you're one of them. See?” Hawk wiggled his phone in front of me to show a text that said “Sup hottie?” that came from my number.

“You stole my phone to get my number? Did simply asking politely for it go out of style or something? ”

“Yeah, that's so mid-2000's,” Hawk shuddered. “This was way more memorable. And I was guaranteed your number this way. I like it when the odds are in my favor.”

“I bet your 'pretty privilege' ensures the odds are freaking stacked in your favor. Effie Trinket would be so proud,” I grumbled, fighting the urge to move seats.

“Aww Rhys, you think I'm pretty? That's so sweet of you,” he grinned at me.

I closed my eyes and took a deep steadying breath. I will not snap, I will not snap, I Will. Not. Snap.

“Fine. Congratu-freaking-lations. You got my number. Your business here is concluded and you can be on your way,” I said shortly. Just as I said it, Professor Graham strolled into the room and up to the podium.

Oh sweet and sour sauce, thank you! Someone up there loves me!

“I'm so sorry I'm a little late, class. Forgive me. My meeting ran late,” Professor Graham projected across the cavernous room. “Don't forget we have a quiz coming up on psychopharmaceuticals and their effects on the body, so be sure to go over your notes before Friday. Last time, we looked at the various neurotransmitters and how they contribute to mental health imbalances, so that's where we'll pick up today.” The lights dimmed in the room as the projector powered up on the screen at the front of the room.

Hawk leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Jesus, this sounds boring as shit. What major are you exactly?” He asked, but I was having a hard time concentrating as his scent washed over me. It was spicy and warm, like bergamot and amber…or something equally annoying that smelled good. I don't know why I expected him to smell disgusting. I was nowhere near that lucky.

I let out a frustrated breath. “I'm a nursing major, and you are distracting me. Also you're not even in this class! Why are you still here?” I whisper-shouted under my breath, very conscious of my noise level so I didn't draw the professor's attention.

“Eh, a tiny technicality. So where did you get the contacts, Sweetness?” he inquired, still speaking close to my ear.

“Contacts? My eyes are all natural, thank you.”

“Nope. Call a foul on that one. There's no way your eyes can legit be purple. Never heard of that before in my life.”

I was beginning to take so many steadying breaths that I was actually beginning to feel lightheaded. “Well, they do exist. It's a rare blue-gray combo that makes them appear violet. Elizabeth Taylor was famous for having violet eyes.”

“Ah. Who's Elizabeth Taylor? Is she on OnlyFans or something?”

I nearly choked on my spit as my face burned with annoyance and embarrassment at the ridiculous conversation we were having a little too loudly.

“No, you uncultured swine. She was an old Hollywood Starlet. How have you never heard of her? You know what? Nevermind. It's not important. Violet eyes are a thing. Now you've learned something,” I forced out in an indignant rush.

“Yep, my scholarship money has been well spent. That's the type of shit they should teach you here.”

“I swear, people like you are the reason warning labels like 'don't eat the paint' exist,” I mumbled, eyes flying to the ceiling as if the answer to getting rid of him was glued up there.

“Ouch! That wasn't very nice, Sweetness. I thought we were trying to be friends now?” Hawk taunted.

“Okay, why do you keep calling me Sweetness? It's highly irritating…plus it's making my sweet tooth act up,” I grouched. I was desperately trying to pay attention and take notes, but he was making it impossible to concentrate.

“I don't know. It just fits. You're all sweet and innocent. I've noticed you don't curse. Is that a personal choice or are you like one of those churchy kids who wants to get the Holy Stamp of Approval, so they don't swear at all? Inquiring minds want to know,” he asked, stroking his chin like a cartoon villain. It would make him look so childish and stupid…if it wasn't also kind of adorable.

Wait, what? Where did that shiz come from?? Get it together, you walking Bundy victim! Why don't you go moon over a mugshot while you're at it?

“ Did you take something for that size problem of yours because you're twice the dick you were yesterday,” I scowled. I didn't notice my voice had gone up a level until a curly brunette two rows in front of us turned around to shush me. I didn't mean to be so crude, but every word he spoke cranked up the dial on my irritation another click. And it didn't help that his annoying scent was still surrounding me and having an undesirable effect on my circulatory system. As in it was circulating my blood down to my nether regions.

“Gasp! You said a naughty word! That's the first one I've heard from you, violet eyes. Well done. I was beginning to think you weren't capable,” Hawk praised, giving me a silent golf clap.

“Oh for the love of Freud, can I please listen to the lecture now? I really need to focus on this class,” I begged him, frustration giving my voice an edge that I hoped worked to shut him up.

To my absolute surprise, Hawk held up his hands in a placating gesture and leaned back in his chair. He was silent and appeared to be intently listening to the lecture on Serotonin and Dopamine. I finally let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding and relaxed into my chair, ready to take notes.

I didn't know how long I was absorbed in the lecture before I felt Hawk's hand slip onto my upper thigh. I jerked violently at the unexpected contact and let out a strangled noise. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't exactly a quiet one.

“Excuse me, is everything alright back there?” Professor Graham called up to me. I saw most of the heads in the room swivel my way. I was fairly certain I was red enough to pass as a life-sized “Grope Me Elmo” doll with Hawk's hand slowly inching up my thigh despite the eyes on us.

“N-no sir. Everything's f-fine. I'm sorry,” I stuttered out, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. If the professor noticed, he didn't let on. He merely turned back to the screen and continued teaching.

When I was sure everyone had turned back toward the front, I swung my head toward Hawk. “Holy Hitchcock, what do you think you're doing??” I bit out as harshly and quietly as I could.

He seemed wholly unaffected by the minor scene we had just caused, and the hand planted on my thigh started massaging the muscle there. That let out a slew of tingles that I felt throughout my lower body. I hated that I didn't hate it at all.

Except for when I thought about who was responsible for the sensation.

“Let go of me,” I growled, attempting to grab his hand and pry it off my leg. Hawk just gripped tighter and removed my hand with his free one.

“Uh uh, Sweetness. You need to be careful. Don't want to alert the professor to what we're doing,” Hawk whispered, his voice carrying a sweet but poisonous edge that had my stomach dropping.

“ I'm not doing anything. You're?—”

Hawk's hand crept up to the junction of my groin, his fingers inches from my dick as he continued the massaging motion. I let out an involuntary moan that I did my best to stifle.

“Exactly,” Hawk said smugly. “You're not doing anything, especially stopping me. See, I have a theory that you want this. That you've probably never had another man's hands on you, and you're dying for a taste. Tell me I'm wrong.”

His provocative words had my temper spiking, but the sparks flying out from where he was touching me were spreading through my groin and my words failed me. I wanted to contradict what he was saying because he was wrong, but I couldn't find the words.

“You can stop this, you know? Say the word and I'll stop,” Hawk murmured in my ear, his nose brushing my earlobe gently. I shivered and his chuckle sent a rush of breath against my neck. It was pure, freaking hell…and yet I wasn't saying no.

Why wasn't I saying no?

Hawk's hand traveled a little higher until he was right above my waistband, and then he slowly swept down to grab my dick that was unfortunately thickening in my jeans. The sensation made my hips punch forward into his hand and I bit back the groan at how good the pressure felt. Beside me, Hawk let out a hum that I felt across my entire body.

“Tell me to stop, Sweetness. Tell me you don't want me to rub this pretty cock of yours through your jeans and make you come for me,” Hawk crooned, and his salacious words forced out a pump of precum that wet the inside of my boxers.

What in the heck is happening right now? Why am I not saying no? I could have sworn I said no…right? That's a thing I just did, I'm sure of it. Except…I don't remember it. Oh ffff-fornication, this feels so good…it shouldn't feel this good.

Hawk continued to rub my cock over my pants, the pressure he was applying both delicious and frustratingly not enough at the same time. I was barely aware of the fact that my hips were canting into his palm, humping the hand that was working me over like a pro.

And in a horrifying twist of events, I almost let the worst word in the world slip past my lips.

More.

“Fuck, you're so responsive, violet eyes. I had a feeling you would be…I bet you're practically dripping for it.” He rubbed a little faster, and I bit my lip so hard to trap my moan that I was about to draw blood. “I can feel you throbbing through the denim. I bet you'd come th e second I wrapped my hand around you. You're such a slut for it, aren't you?”

His silky sweet tone was contradictory to the degrading words he was spewing, but…I couldn't say no. God help me, but I was so turned on…and I was going to come .

“Oh, please…” The words tumbled out in a pleading moan against my will. My eyes were clamped shut as I fought against the mounting pleasure that was sweeping through me, but also wanting to give myself over and let it take me. My brain had long since packed up and signed over the decisions to my dick, which was throbbing in Hawk's hand.

“Careful, Rhys…don't want to get too loud. Can you imagine if someone turned and caught us right now? If they saw you falling apart for me as I got you off in front of them?” His tormenting words somehow ratcheted up my desire and my cock let out another pulse of precum. It was insane that the thought of getting caught was somehow intensely hot. My dick pulsed dangerously and pressed painfully against the confines of my pants.

“I feel you getting close,” he growled. “Come on, Sweetness. Give it up for me. I want to feel you flood your jeans and know it's for me. Come for me like the dirty boy you are…”

His hand pressed just right at the tip of my cock and I exploded. I bit my fist hard to stifle the moan that almost broke free as my soul-crushing orgasm slammed into me. Spurt after spurt of cum drenched my boxers, sticky and warm as Hawk continued to stroke me over the jeans. It seemed to go on forever. I absently wondered if he was draining me of every bodily fluid I had until the last tremors ran through me and my cock went limp.

I fell back in my chair, chest heaving out heavy breaths that I was positive were too loud, but I couldn't find a single care to give. My head was swimming in a glorious haze and I had the strongest urge to cuddle into his arms.

That thought rammed at my consciousness and my eyes flew open, haze gone in the blink of an eye as the gravity of what just occurred settled over me.

Hawk = 1, Rhys = 0.

Next to me, Hawk was chuckling deeply, but there was no warmth behind it. I couldn't bring myself to look at him as shame and guilt washed over me. I knew I couldn't even be that angry with him because I never said no. I remembered trying to remove his hand, but I didn't even put up that much resistance against him. He told me repeatedly to tell him to stop, and I stayed silent.

And the reason I stayed silent was the most shameful problem of all because I got off on what he did to me. I…liked it.

“Mmm, I think I proved my theory right. You were such a good boy, Rhys.”

There was no sane reason on this planet or any other why my cock should have twitched at his praise…and yet it did.

“Well, that was fun. Good luck with that mess, Sweetness,” Hawk tossed out casually, and my eyes connected with his cocky gaze. “Hey, don't forget to call my coach and get that complaint cleared up. Gotta get that fixed,” he said as he tossed a wink at me.

Without another word or glance my way, he gathered up his backpack and strode out of the room, leaving me gaping after him.

I sat there for several minutes as the lecture wrapped up and students funneled out.

And I stayed put.

Sticky, messy, and full of regret.

Getting out of the classroom and to my apartment with my dignity intact was a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I had my textbook clutched awkwardly in front of the giant wet spot on my jeans the entire way to my apartment.

By the time I hobbled into my room, the cum was crusty and flaky which made the whole ordeal even more humiliating. I hadn't come in my pants since I was thirteen and was at a sleepover for Connor's birthday. Lots of cute boys running around in swimsuits, jumping on my back in the pool had been enough to push me over the edge and I ran inside complaining about a stomachache. Luckily my swim trunks had already been wet and I was able to rush in to change without anyone cluing in, but it was still a mortifying experience I had no interest in repeating.

That worked out just great for me.

I spent the rest of the day holed up in my room, fruitlessly trying to study for the classes I had skipped after Sir Gropes-A-Lot had ruined my jeans and my concentration in one go. I briefly considered telling Micah about the debacle in class, but his mood hadn't improved over the week and he still wasn't acting like himself. I didn't want to dump on my friend when he was clearly still struggling with the fallout of the double-date. I could deal with this myself.

Thursday and Friday passed surprisingly without incident, but my anxiety hadn't gotten the memo. I continued to look everywhere in the crowds of students, as if I were expecting Hawk to jump out and attack in the middle of the street. And the thought was only unsettling until I remembered the leg shaking orgasm he dragged out of me that day.

Then it changed to another thought entirely. One where I imagined that scenario going much differently.

With his hand down my pants and my cum on his fist.

Horrified at where my wayward mind was taking me, I shook my head vigorously to clear it as my Human Health professor finished up his presentation and dismissed the class. It was the last lecture on my Friday schedule, so I was headed home to take a long shower, make a quick dinner, and curl up in bed to drool over Anthony Bridgerton.

As I weaved through the throngs of students on the main Speedway corridor, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and instantly wished I hadn't.

Unknown

I’m very disappointed, Sweetness.

You didn’t call Coach for me. And even after that nice orgasm I gave you.

My stomach swooped as my heart thudded a little harder in my chest. I couldn't even decipher whether it was from disgust or…something else. I decided to play dumb just to irritate him.

Me

I’m sorry. Who is this?

Unknown

Wow.

Here I thought you'd be smart enough to remember who this was. Not very impressive, Rhys.

I shouldn't have cared that he was baiting me with an insult. It shouldn't have rubbed me the wrong way because, ultimately, who cared what he thought of me? I sure didn't!

Not one bit.

Me

Maybe you weren't that memorable.

Unknown

What, did my classroom handjob blend in with all the others you got that day?

If so, you get more action than I gave you credit for. Good for you, Sweetness.

If I ground my teeth any tighter together, I was going to need reconstructive surgery. I blamed my weakness in engaging with him on a very long week that had wreaked havoc on my nerves. That was the only possible explanation for why I didn't block him in a heartbeat.

Me

I guess you weren't kidding about being jealous. It's an ugly look on you, but I doubt even plastic surgery could make you look good.

Hard truths and all that.

Being so nasty didn't come naturally to me and as icky as I felt for stooping so low, Hawk drew it out of me as easily as he drawn out that org— nope! Not going there. Let's just not and say we did.

Unknown

Let's not kid ourselves, cutie. I always look good. Also there's no need for me to be jealous.

Want to know why?

No, I really didn't. There was absolutely no conceivable way that his answer could be anything remotely good. So no, I didn't want to know.

Me

Gee, I'm on the edge of my seat .

I think we've all firmly established that I'd be the first animal eaten on a nature show because I was evidently a huge idiot.

Unknown

Because the next time I see you, you'll beg me to make you come.

The blood rushed to my face so fast I felt the heat of it in my cheeks. Then it all traveled south and emptied into my dick as sinful thoughts crashed into my brain. That quickly turned into repulsion as I argued with myself that it was utterly stupid to find anything that syphilitic jockstrap said as appealing.

Unknown

Sweet dreams, Sweetness. See you soon.

I locked my phone and shoved it back in my bag as I walked into my apartment. I had too many thoughts swirling around my brain, dredging up the memories of Hawk and even older memories that carried far more pain.

Before I hopped into a cold shower to hopefully kill the loathsome erection that had sprung up after his teasing words, I grabbed my phone once more and blocked his number.

When I had eaten and settled into bed with Bridgerton spooled up and ready to go, I had a moment of madness. I was convinced that I was totally deranged and only heavy medication would help me.

I had lost my ever-loving mind and there was no finding it.

I unlocked my phone and unblocked him.