Page 5 of Worthy

I catch up to him easily, forcing him against the wall. This is the closest we’ve ever been. My breath catches in my lungs, feeling full and heavy. My brain hisses in pained pleasure at the small flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

My chest is against him, his chin digging into the tense muscles just below my clavicle. It’s a sharp pinprick, his touch, his skin burning with heat.

It’s suffocating.

My skin crawls to withdraw while yearning formore.

“I’ll walk away from whoever the fuck I want.” He presses his hands against the wall at his back, fingernails scratching along the drywall.

My hand raises, fingertips grabbing at his chin. Abel hisses, jerking away. I grab harder, digging in until his eyes crease with a wince.

Fuck, that’s nice.

Not so tough now, are you, runt?

“Not me,” I reply, feeling confident in that answer. Abel scoffs, big lips pursing, twisting with a grin.

“‘Not you?’” he parrots. “You are absolutely no exception.” My lips twitch with their own smile.

It’s been hard, so taxing resisting his little quips, the endless torment. But now that I have my hands on him…I see right through it.

He’s just as fucked up as I am.

I lift his chin up, pulling his neck taut until the cords of muscles must be aching under the tension. His throat bobs, sharp Adam’s apple rolling.

I think I want to sink my teeth into it, just to see how hard it is.

“Then tell me why you can’t seem to leave me alone.” I’m in his face now. His breath coasts over mine—hot, wet. It’s coming out faster, labored.

“Because.” He licks his lips, sharp, gray eyes peering at me through heavy lids. “I like seeing homophobic jocks like you break.”

Chapter Two

Peris

“Fuck,” I groan, rubbing my hand down my face under the spray. My skin pulls. I open my eyes, letting the water rush down my lids, over my lashes and into my mouth. Every inhale has it rushing in, on the precipice of choking me.

Exhale. It splatters to the floor.

I don’t know how long I stand there before the water splutters cold, and I jump back with a hiss, slamming the handle down to shut it off. Body plastered in goosebumps, I reach for my towel, knotting it around my waist.

My wet footsteps echo on the concrete in heavythwaps.

I reach for my duffle when my ears prick, hands stilling, the tip of my index finger brushing the very edge of the zipper. The silence is sharp, loud as it burns through my ear canals. A sense of Déjà vu washes over me in a heavy shudder, making my skin crawl.

The crackle zips through the air.

Jaw tense, I ball my hands, walking the length of the bench and around the wall of lockers. My feet skirt to a stop at the tiny bundle huddled in the corner. A wrinkle forms between my brows, eyes looking up and through my lashes to the ceiling in question before dropping them back to the black blob.

Withpink fucking shoes.

“Abel.”

His head lifts, like he was waiting for me to call his name. His eyes are a little red and shiny, the tip of his big, sharp nose wet. Cheeks pink.

“Fuck,” I breathe in the sight before me. He looks fucking wrecked. Sad and helpless.

My rock-hard dick stirs beneath my towel, and for the first time, it’s a welcome feeling where Abel’s concerned. This isexactlyhow he’s meant to look. Frail, weak. On the floor with tears in his eyes.

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