Tyed(19)

I step into the shower and turn the faucet on all the way, making sure the water is steaming hot. I stand beneath the stream, dropping my head backwards and enjoying the water against my bruised skin. It’s easy to get lost in thought when you’re in a hot shower.

The water is comforting against my skin, and my mind drifts to my favorite guy in the whole world: Charlie Hunnam. I wish Jax Teller were here to sponge my back. I allow myself to get lost in this fantasy momentarily when Ty's stupid face floats into my thoughts. Sneaky bastard.

Get. Out. Of. Here.

My body is my temple and my temple only accepts blond British dudes who ride Harleys.

But I still can't believe he's banged someone else the day before he almost kissed me...

Right, I promised myself I'm not going there. Shush, Blaire. Change the subject.

I resort to singing in an attempt to drown my thoughts. I start humming “Blank Space” (the I Prevail version, of course), murdering the song cold-heartedly, missing every single note possible, as loud as I possibly can for distraction. Every windshield in the gym parking lot is about to explode into a million pieces. Wolves are howling their agony at the sound. And I continue, undeterred.

I roar the lyrics, shutting off the water and enveloping myself in one of the complimentary towels. I wipe the water drops from my face and peek around the plastic curtain separating the shower stall from the locker room.

Bang! My jaw drops to the damp concrete floor.

Beyond the mist awaits Ty, and he is leaning against the wall, between me and the locker where my clothes reside. His arms folded on his chest, a huge grin on his face.

I let out a hysterical shriek and pedal back into the stall, shivering.

“Really, Barbie? I’m the one who should be scared after this. Silence really is f*cking golden.”

I tug the towel tighter over my breasts, pulling at its hem to make sure my lady parts are concealed. This is so crazy I don’t have the time to dwell on the fact he deeply insulted my singing. I can still hear the TV in the background. The host is talking about the guy standing in front of me.

Since these two warriors first met, it seems like they’ve gotten under each other’s skin. It’s been escalating for a long time…

“What are you doing in the girls’ locker room?” I shriek again.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bite.” His eyes scan me head to toe. He shakes his head, eying my hand clutching the towel. “Unless you want me to.”

He is wearing a black suit, tailored perfectly to his wide shoulders and a crisp white shirt open at his throat, revealing a tiny sliver of tattoo.

“Why are you here?” I repeat, squeezing myself past his lethal body to my locker.

“* patrol.” He doesn’t butt out of the way, even when he sees me squirming in an attempt to escape the unavoidable brush of our skin. Then he must notice my face paling, because he finally awards me with a serious answer. “Scott said you were looking for me.”

Let’s just hope both of them will fight clean, the commentator says from the screen.

I tug my underwear and jeans up my thighs under the towel, extra cautious not to show any skin.

As usual, Ty is staring. And as usual, he isn’t trying to hide it in any way.

“And did it not occur to you that it’s the girls’ locker room and that I might—shock, horror—be taking a shower?”

“It did. That’s why I came in.” He flashes me one of his signature, dimpled smiles.

Whoa, good shot by Wilder.

The more articles of clothing I put on, the more confident I feel. I get straight to the point before he bombards me with more reason to stutter. “I was looking for you because I want to interview you. Can you spare me ten minutes?”

“Nope.” He swivels to the door and starts marching.

“Wait!” I cry. My head drops when I realize how desperate I sound.

I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!

“It’s vital for my assignment,” I say quietly.

He comes to a halt, his body still angled toward the door. “I don't do interviews, and even if I did, it’s not like the article will ever get published. It’s just a stupid school thing. Don’t have the time to waste on this shit. What’s in it for me?” He suddenly sounds half-interested.

Monrose is putting up a fight against Wilder, but Wilder is too loose and confident to make a mistake…

“Don’t be an ass,” I tell him.

This makes him turn around.

“I see feisty Barbie is back.” He takes a few steps closer, the right corner of his lips pulling into a crescent.

“Give me ten minutes with you.” I swallow. I watch the TV from behind him, and see how he throws a head kick, his opponent dropping to the floor. Ty wastes no time leaning down and squeezing his opponent’s head like a vicious snake, until the referee steps between them. Monrose taps the floor multiple times with his right hand, signaling his submission.

Ty takes a few long steps and stops when he is mere inches away from me. Face to face. Nose to nose. My pulse rate edges up three notches.

Thump.Thump.Thumpthump. Thumpthumpthump.

“Ask me,” he purrs, sending tremors down my spine. I swear those dark, demanding eyes are drinking my soul, emptying out every coherent thought I possess, burning my skin, his pupils feeding the flames.