Page 40 of Unsteady

“Why?” I ask, regretting the word vomit immediately as Rhys looks up, a little shell-shocked and a little confused, but the corners of his mouth lift slightly. Freddy is smirking, walking backwards and making himself scarce. “I mean—”

“Want me to stay?” he asks, the smile aching to burst forward is barely held back. He stays where he is, like I might scare off if he gets too close.

“I’d like to see your stamina when you’re not fresh off an adrenaline high crash.”

He lets out a quick laugh, so unbidden that he looks nearly shocked by it, before shaking his head and closing his eyes, stalking towards me.

Before he gets to me, a different body cuts him off, pressing me into the wall and grinding down—ignorant of present company and oblivious to my disinterest.

Sean—last name redacted since I can’t seem to remember it—seemed like a good idea when he joined me on the dance floor earlier in the evening, considering he’d been a regular hook up of mine during the absolute downfall of my life last semester. It seemed even more like a good idea when he’d started drawing circles and massaging my calves while chatting away about nothing I cared to hear. His hands are strong, rough enough that they might leave a mark, so I’d subtly hinted at him earlier.

But it seems after seeing only Rora come back down, he took that as an invite.

“Are you trying to eat me?” I snap, shoving him off in spite of the embarrassment of this happening while Rhys can see.

I hate that prick of self-consciousness as much as I hate the immediate, obvious flush to my cheeks. It’s not the hooking up I’m embarrassed of—I’ve always been unashamed of my sexuality; my choices to do what I want with who I want. Hook-ups only, that’s my MO and I refuse to apologize for it; if men don’t have to, why should I?

I enjoy myself, and get what I need—most of the time.

So, why does Rhys being here make my stomach hurt?

“That’s the plan, babe.” He smirks, crowding into me again. “Ready now?”

My face only flushes further as I shove him off,again. “Not interested, actually. Get. Off.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He laughs, backing off barely an inch, but enough to notice someone lurking behind him. Spinning on his feet, he braces back against the wall, angling to my shoulder like he might slip around me at any moment, nodding his head towards Rhys with a quick smile. “Oh shit. Koteskiy, hey.”

The drawn outheydoes nothing to erase the tightness around Rhys’ eyes. Still, he plasters a smile across his mouth and drops his chin in a quick, cool acknowledgement, before his eyes are back on me. It’s hard to wrestle with the want in my chest, making my heart thrum with the effort not to sprint towards him and use him like a personal shield from the ghost of my lowest moments.

“Gonna make it to Frozen Four this year?”

“That’s the plan,” Rhys replies, hands shoved into pockets, quirking an eyebrow at my tense stance. “Okay, Gray?”

His question to me isn’t any softer, but something about it is different… familiar. Genuine, but quiet, like the soft sadness etched permanently into his eyes that no one besides me seems able to see.

“Gray?” Sean mocks, laughing, his arm dropping onto my shoulder like a heavy weight. I wonder if I stopped trying to stay upright, would I sink into the floor? “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Koteskiy says, at the same time I blurt, “No.”

Rhys’ gaze turns darker, a feat I didn’t think possible, before I shrug Sean off and slink away from them both.

Sean guffaws loudly, the sound grating to my ears. “Koteskiy, huh? Upping the competition this year, Sadie?” He bumps me with his hip, green eyes on fire as he takes me in again.

It’s my fault that he feels this way, because what he’s saying isn’t wrong—it’s completely true. Last semester, I spent an exorbitant amount of time playing with his drunk frat buddies just to get some kind of fire beneath him, so he would pull me upstairs and wreck me instead of trying to romance me. If Sean sees Rhys Koteskiy as some sort of game between us, it’s only because I put that thought there.

I should be nicer about it, but I find myself somehow angrier—at myself, at Sean. Even at Rhys for whatever painful dance we are doing with each other.

“That’s not what this is,” I finally concede, hating that a part of me still wants to grab Sean by the hand and lead him into the now-vacant bathroom, let him slip into my body while I close my eyes and only think of Rhys. His deep brown eyes gazing up at me perched on his lap and the sound of his heavy breaths against my skin…

It would be so much easier to leave after that, to pull down my dress and get the hell out of this suffocating house.

But, Ican’t.

“Listen—”

Whatever Sean is going to say is cut off sharply, as Rhys grabs a hold of his shoulder and stops him as he attempts to crowd me again.

“Having trouble hearing?” he says, shoving Sean back hard enough that he trips, despite the fact that Rhys has barely moved. “She’s told you to get off of her repeatedly.” His voice is calm even as the storms gather in his eyes.

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