Chapter Five

Cassian’s POV

Since last night, Rhett hasn’t spared me a glance.

He had just pushed me off with so much force and gone to the bathroom, then after several hours he went to bed but didn’t sleep.

He spent the night tossing and turning—so did I, thinking of the look in his eyes when I hovered above him.

Why the fuck am I feeling something?

I stare at his side of the room—I am supposed to be thinking of the next thing to get him riled up, I’m supposed to be planning how to dismantle his reputation piece by piece until there is nothing left. Instead, my mind replays last night on his bed that is now neatly made, and this morning as he tried on about a hundred different clothes just to look perfect.

It’s been about three hours since he left. I wonder what exactly his father is seeing him about that he’s not back.

I should have something set up by now, but my head is not in the right space.

The door suddenly swings open with so much force suddenly, hitting the wall with a loud thud. I sit up immediately only to see Rhett storm in and slam the door.

He looks battered

It’s the only word for it. His lip is split and bleeding. There is a dark purple bruise thats forming on the side of his face, and he’s holding his side like every breath hurts. His hair is a mess, and the perfect outfit he put on this morning is wrinkled and stained with blood.

I feel a sudden pang of guilt in my chest.

I know his father and have heard enough stories about Mr. Reed’s temper whenever someone in hiw family fucks up.

There are even rumors that his mom didnt die in an accident, and he caused her to die after beating her up.

So looking at Rhett now, I know exactly who did this to him, and I know why.

It was about the magazine.

I stand up before I can even tell myself not to and walk over to him, my hands reaching out instinctively. “Rhett? What happened?”

He flinches away from my touch, his eyes flashing with anger at me. “Don’t fucking touch me!” he rasps.

“You’re bleeding,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I move toward the small first aid kit I keep in my desk and pull it out then walk back to him. “Just sit down. Let me look at it.”

“I said fuck off, Cassian!” Rhett yells louder, but the effort he used in shouting makes him wince and stumble toward his bed. He collapses onto the edge of it, burying his face in his hands. “Just stay on your side of the room. Haven't you done enough?”

“I'm trying to help,” I say weakly, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and walking back over. “Plus I’m not going to let you sit there and bleed all over the floor.” I add the last part as an afterthought so he doesn’t suddenly think I care about him.

“Help?” Rhett laughs bitterly, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes. “This whole bullshit is your fault. If you hadn’t planted that stuff... if you hadn’t made him come here—“

“I didn’t make him come here, Rhett! I told you that!" I snap back, though the guilt is still eating at me. “I just wanted to mess with you. I didn’t think he’d show up and see it, and I didn’t think he'd do this either!”

“Well, he did,” Rhett snaps at me. “Let me guess? It’s another nice bonus huh? You’re reveling in my pain aren’t you?”

I reach out again, and this time, he’s too tired to fight me. I gently press the wipe to his busted lip. He hisses through his teeth, his hand reaching up to grab my wrist to stop me, but he doesn’t pull away. We stay like that for a second—me being so close to him, him holding my arm.

The tension feels even worse than last night as his eyes drop to my lips.

Suddenly, the door opens without a knock and I jump back.

Savannah walks in, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn’t even pause at the door; she just rushes over like she owns the place.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Rhett! Oh my goodness!” she cries in an irritating high pitched voice. She pushes past me, forcing me to step back. “I thought Matt was just messing with me when he said I might need to check on you.”

She reaches for his face, her fingers fluttering over the bruise on his jaw. “You poor thing. You should have called me.”

Rhett pulls back, looking instantly annoyed. “Savvy, what are you doing here? This is a boys’ dorm. You need to stop coming in here without permission. There are rules for fucks sake!”

He even has a nickname for her.

My hands clench into fists at that.

“I don’t care about rules when you’re hurt,” she says in a sickening sweet voice. It makes my skin crawl. She tries to take the antiseptic wipe from my hand, but I grip it tighter. “Rhett, stop being stubborn. Let me take care of you. I have some skincare products that’ll clear that bruise up in no time.”

She leans in close to him, her hair brushing against his shoulder.

I feel a hot surge of jealousy and anger flare up in my gut. Who does she think she is?

She doesn’t know him as well as I had. She doesn’t know what he’s been through since he was a kid.

But then I stop myself.

I feel like a fool.

No, I am a fool.

Why the fuck do I even care? I’m supposed to be the one hurting him, not the one fighting for the right to heal him.

I back away, watching them. Savannah is still whispering sweet things, trying to get him to lie down. Rhett looks miserable, his gaze flickering over to me for a split second before he looks away.

I have to remind myself who I am.

The boy who was outed and bullied until I had to run away. I’m the boy who spent years being a target because Rhett decided his reputation was worth more than our friendship.

I’ve suffered beatings before too—beatings that Rhett either started or watched with a smirk on his face.

He doesn’t deserve my guilt. He doesn’t deserve my help.

I walk over to my bed and lie down, pulling my headphones over my ears. I turn the volume up until I can’t hear her soft voice or the sound of Rhett’s pained breathing.

But even with the music blasting, I can still feel them there. I can still feel the way my heart dropped in ng chest when I saw the blood on his face.

I hate him.

I have to hate him.

If I don’t hate him, then all the pain he put me through was for nothing.

Me coming back here and changing myself to a point beyond his father’s recognition was for nothing.

I close my eyes tight, trying to force the image of his battered face out of my mind, but it is literally burned into my mind already.

I should be punishing him for every single thing he has done, so why does it feel like I’m the one being punished?