See No Evil (Brotherhood Trilogy #1)(21)

He ducks out of the way and it slaps into the locker behind him, but not before spraying his cheek. His face bunches with disgust and he grabs the rag again, charging with a yell and throwing it straight for my face. I bash it away. It hits the wall and flops into the urinal.

I give it a dubious glare and then decide, what the hell, I’ve just cleaned it.

Pulling it out, I go to throw it again.

“Don’t you dare.” He raises his finger at me.

I pull my arm back and he rushes forward, tackling me off my feet and hauling me over his shoulder.

I squeal, sounding way too much like a girl. Pounding his back with the rag, I grunt, trying to think what a guy would sound like in this situation.

Trey hauls me into the shower, dumping me on the floor and turning it on full blast. The freezing water hits me and I gasp in shock.

“Shit, that’s cold!” I yell.

He’s laughing at me, enjoying my torture, so I do the only thing I can.

Lurching forward, I grab his ankle and pull. He slips forward, slapping his hand on the cold tiles as he gets covered with water.

“Ah!” he screams, arching his back to get away from the spray.

I start laughing at his girlish cry, closing my eyes and tipping my head back. It’s a weird kind of release. I can’t remember the last time I laughed or what it felt like, that unbidden, uncontrollable emotion.

Trey curses as he fumbles to turn the water off. It slows to a trickle and he slumps to the ground beside me.

“You tell anyone I scream like that and I’m gonna kick your ass.” He’s trying to be tough but his look is desperate, pleading.

I shrug and shake my head. “You’re talking to Wonder Boy, the most pathetic thing at this school. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

He smiles at my derogatory comment and nudges me with his elbow. “You’re not all bad. At least your throw’s half decent.”

I grin. “I can’t tell you how satisfying that was.”

His snicker is soft and humble. “I guess I kind of deserved it.”

“You gonna help me clean the showers now?”

He tips his head back against the tiles and winces. “You’ll spend the rest of the time trying to make me pay if I don’t say yes, right?”

“Pretty much.”

With a reluctant sigh, he gets to his feet and reaches down to help me up. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you win this one.”

I grip his hand and love how easily he can pull me up.

Our eyes lock for a moment. My hand is still in his. Small, protected. I don’t want to let go. His tongue skims his lower lip and my eyes are drawn to the fullness of it, then the strength of his chin. I want to draw lines on his face, navigate the structure. I want to taste him.

Trey blinks and jerks away from me, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.

“Better get to it.” He nods.

“Yep,” I fire back, heading to my bucket.

I can’t breathe properly. The air is suddenly hot. Suffocating.

My hoodie is saturated and I’m pulling down the zipper when I remember that I can’t. I zip it back up to my chin, clutching the strings and swallowing. Wet shirts cling to bodies. I may be strapped around the chest but I’m still a girl—thin waist, wider hips.

Trey’s a smart guy. What if he notices?

I empty the foul water down the drain. My hands are trembling.

So what if he did notice? Would it really be so bad if he knew the truth?

My eyes bulge.

Yes! Yes it would!

He can’t know. No one can.

I avert my gaze and head to the sink to refill the bucket, adding extra cleaner to combat the slimy shower stalls.

This is bad. The fact I even thought for a moment that I could reveal myself is proof that Trey makes my brain weak. I can’t keep hanging out with him.

He’s too likable.

Too strong.

Too beautiful.

If I’m not careful, he’ll be the death of me.

Spinning around, I carry my bucket back to the showers. Trey dumps his rag into it, then drops to his knees to pick it out and start scrubbing. Glancing over his shoulder, he gives me a closed-mouth smile before getting down to work.

I’m unable to move as I stare at him. The width of his back, the way his muscles move as he scrubs. His strong hands. Those forearms.

They’d hold me tight.

Make me secure.

The force with which I want them around me is terrifying.

I have to get out of this place.

If I stay here much longer, I won’t be able to resist him.





#12:

Schizo Chris



Trey



I’m not sure what to think…other than there’s something wrong with Chris.

He’s acting weird right now. Sitting two rows away from me, with this tight look on his face. His lips are bunched with determination. There’s fire in his eyes.

He showed some fight this weekend, throwing a filthy rag at my head. I should have beat him down, but his laughter and bright smile stopped me. It was actually kind of fun messing around with him…and holding his hand.

Shit!

I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. This is messed up! I don’t like him. Not that way.