I’d forgotten how soft his lips are. How gentle his hands can be.
The impact of that thought knocks the air from my lungs, yet I still cling to him, my fingers forever dragging his hoodie closer.Bending slightly, Everest lifts my bare thigh, the stretch of the compression shorts seeing my knee hitched over his hip. He presses his crotch into me, and I gasp into his mouth. He’s hard. Rock hard, deliciously hard. Spots pepper my vision behind closed lids, the roll of his hips being felt all the way through my core and up my body.
Our mouths become feral, neither of us willing to lose the challenge for control, neither of us willing to surrender first. Brazenly, I roll my own hips in response, relishing every hard inch of him. Everest groans low in his throat, his teeth nipping at my lip, his fingers splayed across my ribs. The vibrations from the music bleed into us, giving the moment a desperate, feverish edge.
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing else. Not Reid. Not the canvases. Not the shitty lacrosse practice where I lack all of the respect I’ve earned. Not the therapy, the fear, the questions, or any of the things I don’t want to name. There’s just Everest pressed against me, his mouth branding promises he hasn’t spoken, his presence loud enough to drown out everything I don’t want to feel. I kiss him harder, reckless and unfiltered, because if I’m going to fall apart, I want it to be entirely on my own terms.
Then, somewhere beneath the heavy bass and the mingling of our rushed breaths, there’s another sound. A repetitive roll of vibrations from a distant source. I turn my head to the side, pricking my ears as the room starts to take shape around me once more. Everest uses my distraction to trail his lips over my jaw and neck, his dick and chest pinning me in place as his hands roam. Yet, I’ve locked onto the sound now, and my eyes drop to my gym bag. Through the mesh pocket, the light of my phone flickers, darkens, and then brightens again.
Shit.Thiago.
“Hold up,” I breathe, arching just enough to wedge a sliver of air between us. The loss of contact feels abrupt, like stepping back from a fire too quickly. Everest’s head lifts from my collarbone, his lashes slow to rise. Within his hooded green eyes, a familiar heat blazes. He’s slow to regain control, his cheeks hollow, his lips bruised and parted. A far cry from the smug heir he allows the rest of the world to see. A part of me almost says fuck it, and takes everything he’s willing to give me, but then my phone starts vibrating again. So instead, I hang my head. “What’s happening right now?”
Everest exhales a faint, humorless sound.
“You tell me,” he stands straighter, slowly lowering my leg from where it was curled around his waist. “You dragged me in here. You stepped closer.” His gaze drops to my hands, still twisted in the front of his hoodie, before lifting again. “You’re the one in control.”
For a brief, terrifying moment, I don’t know whether I want to shove him away or pull him closer. I settle for neither, forcing my fingers to loosen as I push him a shaky step back, the echo of that kiss still buzzing through my veins.
“This didn’t happen,” I state hoarsely. Everest doesn’t react at first, his eyes searching mine. Whatever he sees there seems to sober him, the moment recalibrating to the usual disdain we hold for each other. Shifting his posture and squaring his shoulders, he locks everything back into place, drawing the line between us that should have always been there.
“Whatever you say, Meg,” Everest replies, his jaw tightening. Reaching down, he rearranges his erection without shame, a small smirk returning. “It’s not like I don’t have other options anyway.”
Without waiting for a response, Everest unlocks the door, and slips out into the hallway as if something monumental hasn’t just detonated between us. I stay where I am, staring atthe blank space he left behind, my skin still buzzing and lips bruised. I am such an idiot.
I wanted a distraction, proof that I wasn’t unraveling, and instead, I handed Everest an advantage over me. Another regret he can dangle over my head. As his footsteps fade and Reid’s music swells through the wall again, all that’s left is the hollow awareness that kissing Everest didn’t make me strong. It makes me desperate.
Chapter Seventeen
Leaning one-handed on my desk, because it’s the only thing keeping me upright, my phone is pressed against my ear as it rings out for the fifth time. I know she’s not picking up, since I’m currently watching her through the webcam, yet I forcefully press redial and try again. Meg’s been standing against the wall in a daze, a wealth of emotion filtering across her face. She’s filthy, muddied from practice in her lacrosse jersey and skort. Her hair is a mess, hardly clinging onto its ponytail, but that’s because Everest fucking Calloway had his hands raking through it. I’ll be dealing with him later.
Gradually, Meg’s back slides down the wall until she’s hunched on the floor. Beside her, the discarded towel andclothes wait next to the gym bag her phone is trying to vibrate its way free from. I hit redial again.
Dragging her focus across the carpet, she reaches out and plucks the phone from the side pocket. Finally, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Opening my mouth to greet her as casually as my tightened chest will allow, the tune in my ear is cut short. I pull the phone away, staring at it. Within the next second, a message comes through.
Meg:Sorry, held up at practice. I’m tired, going straight to bed. Talk later.
I step back, dropping onto my mattress with a defeated flop. The bedframe groans, whilst my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing. I can practically feel her slipping away, but what did I expect? That our video games and text messages would be enough for her? Maybe naïvely I did.
Yet, I can’t take my eyes off the computer screen. I can’t seem to give her the space she clearly needs.
Meg sits with her knees drawn up, her forearms draped over them, and head tipped back for a long while. Her chest rises and falls unevenly, breath hitching every now and then. She looks wrecked, despite the lack of tears or outward emotion.
I knew going back to the academy was going to be difficult for her, but I thought we had more than a couple of days before she started becoming distant from me. This morning, I was sending her a breakfast box and flowers. This evening, she’s kissing someone else and withdrawing from me. I wasn’t prepared for how much that would hurt, but it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have been watching.
My thumbs hang over the phone, before I settle on a reply that is simple, but no less needy.
Thi: Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
Lying back, I clutch my phone to my chest, as if loosening my grip will mean losing the fragile connection I have left to her. The only sound comes from the ceiling fan gently thundering above, since I had the good sense to switch off Meg’s audio when Everest was devouring her face.
I peer back towards the screen a few times, unable to convince myself to relax. At one point, Meg scrubs a hand down her face and pushes to her feet, taking her towel with a defeated slump to her shoulders as she leaves to shower.
The next time I check, she’s back, pulling an oversized T-shirt on, her hair curling from the water dripping through it. She crawls into bed without turning off the light, rolling onto her side and tucking her hands under her pillow. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, exhaustion finally dragging her under. I don’t move. I don’t blink. I just watch, my reflection faint in the darkened glass of the monitor, eyes sunken and mouth set in a hard line.
Throwing my arm over my eyes, I finally allow myself to settle. What a mistake that was. The thoughts racing around my head seem to pick up speed, opinions creeping out of the shadows to toy with me. I know she’s strong beyond belief, but she’s also struggling with vulnerabilities that remain hidden from the world.
I was a fool to think that being here for her virtually counted for something real. That she wouldn’t seek out someone who can hold her, possess her, fuck her, even if her current choice in men is questionable. Maybe if she had chosen someone worthy of her, I’d be able to let go. But as soon as I think about it, I scoff. There’s no one worthy of her, not even me.
