Page 29 of Unforgivable

“I imagine it's easier for you to think of yourself as ugly and unwanted because it keeps people from getting too close,” I continued on, seeing the vulnerability swirling in those unusual orbs of his.

“Why wouldn't I want anyone getting close?” he asked, just above a whisper. The atmosphere surrounding us was becoming stifling and a tingle zapped through my body. The need to suddenly touch him in some way hit me out of nowhere. I sank down in my chair a bit, toeing off my shoe. My foot found his leg under the table and I slowly dragged it up his inner calf.

I saw Rhys' breath catch across from me, his eyes widening the smallest fraction. But he didn't stop me.

“I think if you let someone get close, you're opening yourself up to rejection and being hurt…” I started, moving my foot a little higher past his knee and onto his thigh. I felt the shiver from Rhys' body radiate into me from our point of contact, and it encouraged me further.

“And I think you've had quite a bit of pain in your life already,” I hedged. The answer was there on Rhys' face, reflecting back a pain I knew too well. My foot made the journey higher until it met the junction of his thigh, an inch or so away from his cock. His eyes slipped close and he released a harsh breath.

“But even though you're afraid of getting hurt, you still want more…” I said breathlessly, lost in watching for every microexpression of pleasure and pain that crossed his features. I grazed his cock with my toe, not surprised to find it getting hard from my touch.

“Hawk…” Rhys whispered, one of his hands clamping down on the table's edge and his eyes still tightly shut.

“You're terrified of someone seeing who you really are, yet still craving the connection. Even if it comes with more pain, it's nearly worth the risk because of how much you want it, how desperately you need it,” I hummed, my breathing speeding up to match Rhys' as my foot slid up and down his cock, coaxing it to harden for me.

“Mmm…” he whimpered. Rhys bit his lip, unwilling to look while I played with his body, whispering secrets across the divide that could have been meant for me as well as him. That thought leeched in past the lust hovering around us, and I recognized that Rhys' fears mirrored my own. I knew his pain because it lingered in my own mind.

Despite my history of suffering and having it drilled into me how unloveable and unwanted I was, I still desired a connection. Even if I would never willingly admit it to myself, I wanted someone to want me no matter the cost. That same desire in Rhys was a tether between us that I didn't want to admit was there, but somehow longed for in the deepest parts of me. I didn't want Rhys to catch on, to see what was beneath my surface like I peeked beneath his.

I was right in what I told him. Connection led to pain, and I'd had enough to last a lifetime. If there was to be pain between us, I wanted it to be a pain I controlled. That I inflicted.

I froze on the spot, trying to draw up the anger and hostility toward him that I had forgotten in those moments. Rhys' eyes fluttered open when he realized I had stopped touching him, and his gaze snagged on me once more. He must have seen something on my face because he leaned toward me, almost unconsciously.

“Cal?” he asked gently, those purple gems holding so much concern for me that it made me feel ill. “Are you okay?”

Hearing my name fall from his lips again had my chest clenching, memories resurfacing of another sweet, gentle voice saying that name long ago. Why did that one word coming from him tie me up in fucking knots?

I snapped out of whatever stupefied state I was in and shoved my chair back. I hastily jammed my foot back in my shoe, irritated with myself for being so weak. “I'm fine. I just…need to go,” I said, snatching my backpack up fast. I stood up, unwilling to see what was written across Rhys' face at that moment.

“Wait, what's wrong? Maybe I can help,” Rhys said, his voice dripping with sincerity and it almost shoved me over the edge. Whywould he want to help me at all after what he did? After what I did to him?

I narrowed my eyes at him, my demeanor now icy and hard. “You want to know what's wrong? You. You are the problem. You want to help, Sweetness? Then call my Coach. A little footsie and a nice conversation might have distracted me for a minute, but they aren't enough to erase what trouble you brought me.”

I stormed away, leaving him and his stunned expression behind so I could remind myself why I was talking to Rhys Evans in the first place. Somehow in trying to get Rhys to drop his guard, I had lowered mine as well.

That couldn't happen again or I'd be as good as screwed.

8

CALLUM

The events of Tuesday put me in a foul mood for the rest of the week. I didn't want to be around anyone or put energy into feeling human. If I wasn't in class, I was hiding out in my room. If I had any money to spare, I would have gone out drinking if only to numb the disturbing memories and dark thoughts flooding my head.

I hadn't even bothered to text Rhys and mess with him, and his single message checking on me went unanswered. I couldn't take his attempts at being friendly after everything I had planned to do to him.

It wasn't often that I felt guilty over things or second guessed my decisions, but Rhys' being worried about me after how terribly I had treated him had a crushing weight settling on my chest. I had to distance myself to get my head on straight. I couldn't let myself forget why I was doing this in the first place. My scholarship and captaincy were still at major risk until my name was cleared, and Rhys was the key to that.

The only consolation of the last few days was the notable absence of harassing texts from Aunt Blair. Uncle Jack had somehow come through and given me some peace, but it did nothing to stem the old bitterness, fear, and rage that had come rushing back after her previous attempts at contact. His phone call hadn't helped either.

A knock on my bedroom door tore me from the intrusive thoughts. I held back my frustration at being bothered when I wasn't in the rightframe of mind to deal with anybody. “Come in,” I reluctantly called out.

Kenji and Griffin came striding into my room too dressed up for a quiet night in. I inwardly groaned since I knew this wasn't heading anywhere good.

“Alright Hawkins, Griff here tells me that you've been a royal pain in the ass this week and you've been ignoring my texts. Time to suck it up and go out,” Kenji said, his dark eyes drilling a hole into me.

“He's right, Hawk. You've been in a funk for three days and we're here to bust you out of it. It's Friday night, we're hitting up a party!” Griffin chimed, an excited smile showing off his bright teeth.

“Yeah, that's not happening. I'm not in a party mood. You two go, but remember: pics or it didn't happen,” I responded.

---