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I flip him the finger as I drop onto the couch beside him. Grabbing the bourbon, I take a swig straight from the bottle as I settle in.
“Duncan sent him to Thornton’s office during World History.”
“Jesus. What did you do?”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Rhys’ grin gets even bigger. “Go ahead, tell him who you got into it with.”
“Fuck off.”
“Fiiiine,” He says, elongating the one syllable dramatically. “He had another domestic with Bellamy.”
Phoenix laughs out loud. “What is your issue with her?”
“It wasn’t a domestic, fucker, and she was in my way.”
“It was and she wasn’t. Admit you got territorial when you saw Jeremy talking to her.”
Something ugly unfurls inside of me as I recall seeing him sitting on her desk, leering down at her when I'd walked into class.
My fists clench at the memory. I hadn’t been lying when I told him he was in my way. He was.
She and I had unfinished business, it had nothing to do with me being territorial or not. Seeing her sitting there, still wet, flush, red lips parted as she listened to him, I’d tensed up.
Then I’d heard him say he’d pick her up for something and I’d snapped, spewing vitriolic words at her that I knew would make her react.
“You’re wrong.”
“So she’s fair game then?” Phoenix asks with a taunting smile. “Because Bellamy’s fucking hot, mate. If you’re not interested, I might see if I can get a little taste for myself.”
He licks his lip in a clear provocation. He’s goading me into reacting. All I can think about is him sucking her top lip like I did today.My already black mood darkens to Vanta Black when I think about him potentially kissing her before I do.
My grip on the neck of the bourbon bottle is so tight, it's seconds away from accidentally being crushed to pieces in my hand. He should know better than to fucking play with me. If he wants a war, I’ll give him one.
“Do what you want.” I say with a dismissive flick of my hand. “You already know that Sixtine’s more my type anyway. Maybe I’ll shoot my shot if you’re no longer going to be hovering over her."
The sight of his grin wiping off his face abruptly has complete satisfaction coursing through me. It's followed quickly by violence erupting in his gaze at my words.
“Fuck you, Rogue.” He hisses, grabbing me by my collar. “Stay away from her.”
Snatching his hand, I twist it off of me, holding it at an awkward angle away from his body.
“Likewise.”
The warning clear in my voice.
I shove his hand away and he sits back in his chair with a glare in my direction.
“Since we’re all calling dibs,” Rhys says, jumping in good naturedly, “Thayer’s mine.”
"She's already someone else's."
His gaze snaps to me. "Would you let that stop you?"
Fair enough.
His voice brooks no discussion. I know that look in his eye, the one he gets when faced with an impossible challenge. If there’s someone who’s more competitive than me, it’s Rhys. That’s why he’s the captain of our football team. Beneath that disarminglaissez faireattitude, there’s a cobra waiting to strike.
He lies in wait, a charming smile on his face, biding his time until the perfect opening presents itself.
