Page 10 of Unforgivable

“About that though…we're gonna need to do something to fix that sooner rather than later, Rhys. You really screwed some things up for me, and I'm just trying to make sure things don't get…messy.” Hawk's casual words were said almost innocuously, but that dark look in his eyes pierced straight to my core.

“But that's a problem for another day,” he sighed as if it was an inconvenience for him to put it off. “Gotta get going. It's been nice chatting with you, Rhys. I'll see you around—” he leaned in close, his lips ghosting over my ear. “Soon.”

A shiver involuntarily ripped through me, and there was no doubt Hawk noticed. He strolled off, whistling a tune that was digging at my memory as I rushed up the steps into the building.

As I settled at a table in the back, it hit me what he had been whistling. Dread seeped through my bones and I knew I was in deep trouble.

Every move I make, every step I take…

He'll be watching me.

4

RHYS

You 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.AndI 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 photosmindlessly, 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.

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