Page 68 of Beautiful Defiance

22

LEIGH

For the rest of the week, Seven and I fall into a routine. At school, he picks on me every chance he gets, which isn’t often. I learned his habits and avoid running into him and his friends and teammates.

At night, around midnight, he’ll come into my bedroom through the window. We talk about everything under the sun. Go over the good and the bad of our day too. It’s nice having someone to talk to. Nice having an “enemy” who only wants to “never be just friends,” whatever that means.

I’m scared to ask Seven. Something more is happening with us, and I don’t want to ruin this weird rhythm of us hating-to-love and loving-to-hate one another thing between us.

In other non-Seven news, Thomas texts me every day. We even had a video chat. That was nice too, though I felt like a traitor for laughing at his corny jokes.

But I have a feeling Alistair and my mom are smiling down at me from heaven for giving Thomas the chance to be a father to me. Henry and I text daily too. His messages are along the lines of “how is your day?” and “make any friends?” My favorite is, “any guy giving you a hard time? Let me know and I’ll kick his ass.”

I don’t know what to think of Henry’s sudden overprotectiveness other than one—he’s kissing up, desperate for someone to keep an eye on Hannah and talk sense into her constant partying. She is gone nightly since Thomas and Eleanor left for their trip. Two, he has serious problems at DU and is overcompensating by putting my well-being at the top of his overcompensation list.

Curious, I trolled him and his ex-girlfriend on social media. The redhead is stunning. The guy she cheated on and left Henry for is equally stunning.

The guy is a senior and is on Dumas’ football team. He’s a jerk too. There is a video of him taunting Henry, calling him a loser. Henry didn’t make the cut for the football team.

Henry doesn’t take well to the public shaming. He throws a punch. The jerk sidesteps him and throws his own punch, knocking Henry on his ass. Henry’s face swells up, and he staggers to his feet. He goes for round two, but his friends hold him back and haul him out of the view of the camera. I recognize the guys with him. They were with Henry the night he tried drowning me in the pool.

Fuming, I call Rue. She answers right away.

“What’s up?”

“Got plans this Saturday? If not, let’s go on a road trip.”

“Where?”

“Dumas.”

“Aren’t you working at Queenie’s?”

“I have this Saturday off.”

“Why Dumas?”

I run my plan by her. “Is two days enough time to get everything set up? Can we stay with your sister?”

“I can do you one better, but Red will have to come with.”

I like Red, so it’s not a problem that he tags along. “The more the merrier. Thanks, Rue, I appreciate it.”

On the day of the party, I sit out on the bleachers and watch the football team practice. The same jerk gives me a hard time. As we agreed on when he dropped me off, Malice takes back his word in front of a crowd during lunch period. He and I are not an item. He was toying with me and his teammates. A joke, that’s all.

I don’t miss the triumphant gleam in Seven’s dark eyes, followed by him clenching his jaw when the jerk cackles and loudly says, “Jinx. I knew you were playing us, bro. Who wants to date her anyway? She’s fucking weird.”

That was Tuesday. I stayed for practice and made it on the activity bus right as the doors closed. Someone must have told the driver to wait for me. Yesterday was the same old story, with me sticking around at Seven’s practice and then studying at my place. Seven came over with sweet treats for me and protein-loaded snacks for him. We snacked and studied. When dinnertime rolled around, we took turns picking what we ate.

Monday was pizza. Tuesday, teriyaki. Yesterday, burgers. He didn’t mention Malice or his jerk teammate. We talked about the first thing that came to our minds. Yesterday, it was our ideal pets.

Mine is a big dog. Him, too, the meaner the better, but a softie at heart. Why doesn’t that surprise me? Seven wants a dog that reflects who he is. I told him he should get a pug. I hear they snore.

For my comment, he got me on the couch and tickled me. Wanting to get back at him, I stuck my hand down his mesh shorts and pinched his ass cheek. I expected a yelp but not the deep groan reverberating against my chest.

Turned on by him being turned on, my hands slid to the front of his shorts, and more forward than I’ve been with him, I touched his erection, my fingers gliding over his thickness and the velvety tip of his penis. He hid his groan in my neck, and out of breath with need, I stopped touching him. He pulled me on top of him, out of breath too, and we stayed like that until he softened and our breathing returned to normal.

Being with Seven has me wanting to give him my everything. My dreams. My doubts. My heartaches. My failures. My defiance. My body.

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