Page 30 of Forged By Shadows
“Are you able to go one day without whoring yourself out?” Wyatt steps forward. I stumble, preparing to fall until Dax catches me.
“Dude?!” he shouts, stilling Wyatt from walking away. I look up at Dax, still held at an odd angle in his arms. Those soft, open blue eyes are locked down, his jaw set. His entire face has been transformed, seeming unfamiliar from the man I’m beginning to know. Wyatt can be an asshole to me, I’m used to it, but Dax? I don’t want to be the reason he loses his compassion.
“It’s fine,” I brush my hand over his cheek. Wyatt’s head is turned, watching with a tick beating in his jaw. Taking my backpack, I straighten and square my shoulders. “I couldn’t care less about Wyatt’s opinions. He’s always been wrong about me before.” With that, I stroll away. Locating Counselor Lorna’s room, I slam the door behind me and throw myself into an hour of moaning about my asshole stepbrother and his insistence on ruining my damn life.
Chapter Twenty One
Things aren’t right. In fact, they’re swiftly taking a nosedive. Wyatt storms through the house, slamming every door in his warpath.
“Hey man, you weren’t at-” I start, until another door is slammed between us, “practice.” Shaking my head, I go back to my Sudoku book. One of these days, someone needs to get him and his kid sister into a boxing ring and let them hash out their differences. I don’t see any other way, but I sure as shit won’t be the one to instigate it. Currently, Dax is mysteriously absent, while the knucklehead twins are grooming each other in the dining-area-turned-beauty-salon. There’s only so many pimple popping and plucking sessions I can sit through.
“I miss having people to talk to,” I groan under my breath.
“We’re literally right here,” Garrett replies through the open archway. He currently has a green mud mask on his face, whilst pinning an apron around Axel’s neck. Soon after, the electric shaver is switched on and my reply is lost into the air of ignorance. I try to finish my puzzle but soon give up, the repetitive buzz of the shaver grating on my last nerve. I know, deep down, it’s not the shaver’s fault I’m so irritable. It’s so unlike Wyatt to miss basketball. Aside from us, it’s his entire life. He’s good enough to go pro if Nixon allows it.
We’re used to Wyatt turning into himself, typically following trips to see his mom. It always had to be some big ordeal, some prestigious award ceremony where her perfect son had to be on her arm, parading in front of the entire world. He hated who he had to become in order to spend time with her, and I know from his drunken rambles, how jealous he was of the version of Cathy only Avery got to see. Now his mom is gone and there are no more chances for their connection to be fixed.
Yet, there was always basketball. Even when he was furious and refused to talk to anyone, he would be on the court, running drills until he couldn’t stand. I should go and comfort him, but what is there to say? Sorry I’m crushing on your sister so hard, I’ve had to jack off in the shower twice a day since she trashed my car? I couldn’t stay mad at her, and the guys down at the workshop had a good laugh at my ‘scorned lover’s’ damage. Apparently, they get vehicles with similar affiliations brought in a couple times a month.
No, I sigh to myself once again. It’s not my place to talk to Wyatt and convince him Avery might not be the villain he’s always made her out as. That’s something the two of them need to handle, and when they do, I don’t want to be anywhere nearby. Shit is going to get messy.
Tugging out my phone, I opt for some doom-scrolling to pass the time. In the background, Axel and Garrett mutter and laugh quietly. Their fascination with each other has surpassed the simple need for comfort. I’d originally been skeptical of Garrett becoming so close to Axel once we moved into Waversea. Once we’d finally been about to free Axel from his gold-digging mother. Garrett is well known across campus for his ability to be obsessive one moment, and act like you’re dead to him the next. But with Axel, he’s different. Considerate and patient.
Several reels and a fascinating documentary on knot-tying later, a notification appears at the top of my screen from the Student Message Board App. Across the room, chimes ring out and the freshly washed and pampered pair look at the same graphic I’m staring at.
Join us for our Annual Fall Ball. Saturday, October 10th at 6:30pm. Main Auditorium.
Photo Booth, Autumnal Buffet and Disco until midnight.
My eyes slowly rise at the same time Garrett’s do. Axel pockets his phone, turning his attention to setting the table. It’ll be time for dinner soon but that’s not what has Garrett on high alert - for once. His knuckles turn white around his phone, the appearance of a deer trapped in the headlights stuck between his brown eyes.
“Garrett,” I warn in a low voice. Taking a step towards him, his eyes dart to the door and back to my face. “Don’t you dare,” I breathe. Then, he’s gone. I curse, stuffing my feet in my Timberlands and taking off after him.
There’s no way I’ll let him ask Avery to that dance. She doesn’t know him like I do. Today, she’s a new shiny toy to play with, but tomorrow she’ll be humiliated and confused when he’s ghosting her.
For reasons I can’t explain, which have nothing to do with how incredible she felt curled against me in my bed, I care. I want to heal her pain and eradicate her fears. I want her to come to me after every nightmare, to cry against my chest and permit me a glimpse into her soul. She’s been through so much. Hurricane Garrett is something I can help her avoid. She’s too special to become another notch on his bedpost, and if that means I have to piss off Wyatt even more by accompanying her to the dance myself, so be it.
Chapter Twenty Two
Stretching back, I lift my arms above my head and groan. Dax must be the only guy in the world who thinks a study date is exactly that; studying. The library chair has long since made my ass go numb and any attempt at jesting is immediately shot down. High above my head, a domed skylight shows that evening has fallen. I outstretch my leg, accidentally brushing Dax’s. He quickly whips his back, keeping his eyes firmly on his textbook across the table. No one likes studying that much, I decide. This isn’t about studying; this is about Wyatt.
“Fucking cockblock,” I huff. Dax’s brow raises and he peers up at me.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” Hunching over my book, I return to my highlighting. We decided to divide and conquer for our essay, which I reckon was Dax’s excuse to sit on the opposite side of the table and ignore me. The yearning still lights his blue eyes, but he’s keeping it under strict control. I wasn’t sure if he’d even be there, at the end of my therapy session, with milkshakes as promised. He was, but none of the flirtatious touches were. Being interrupted by Wyatt’s rage has really done a number on him.
Around us, the low hum of chatter picks up. I watch it pass through the tables, the excitement building and smiles growing. Whispers grow into giggles, flurries of students packing up and leaving. My curiosity grows as a pair of girls lean over the table, showing phone screens to their friends. Retrieving my own from my backpack, where it has remained on silent since therapy, I finally see what the fuss is about. A Fall Ball happening in a couple of weeks.
“Hey, have a look at this,” I slide the device over to Dax. He glances over it, his shoulders remaining just as rigid. He makes a grunting noise and returns to his notes. I wait for a few moments, stewing over my options.
A ball could be fun. Part of embracing the experience and all of that, but I can’t show up alone. I doubt any of the girls I vaguely know will pass up the chance to have dates on their arms. Dax would be the perfect date. He’s thoughtful and sweet. He’s never once touched me without an invitation, always happy for me to take the reins and when we kissed, it was purely unexpected chemistry. I want to see what else we can do, what else we could be, if he’d allow it.
“So…Do you want to go to the dance with me?”
Mid-sip of his water bottle, Dax chokes, his eyes wide and panicked. “But…I…” he seems stuck between confused and pained. “I thought you liked me?”
“I do,” my cheeks flush. “That’s why I’m asking.”
