003

Astrid’s POV

In my fright, I had hit the floor hard, the impact rattling straight through my bones.

“Ow… damn it!” I groaned, tempted to massage my aching behind but I couldn't as a shadow loomed over me almost instantly.

“You always make an entrance like that, or is this a special performance?” He drawled forcing me to look up.

My fury was blazing and humiliation was burning even hotter.

Ocean Rhett was now standing over me, barefoot on the hardwood floor, completely unapologetic about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

My eyes betrayed me as they began sliding down his body before I could stop them.

They traveled from his broad shoulders to his chest that had been built from years of hockey and discipline.

Faint lines of muscle pulled tight when he shifted, his skin warm and golden in the morning light.

I swallowed, pressing my thighs together.

My gaze drifted lower, going over his stomach, the faint ridges of muscle there and then down to that sharp V-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Oh, no.

I snapped my eyes away instantly, heat flooding my face, my heart slamming so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Despite the awkwardness, he was annoyingly composed and completely unbothered by the fact that I had just fallen out of his bed half dressed.

“You…” I scrambled to my feet, clutching the oversized vest tighter around myself.

“What the hell happened last night?” I demanded.

He didn't give an immediate answer, he tilted his head, dragging his eyes lazily over me.

“Good morning to you too.” He smirked.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare do that. Did you sleep with me?” I forced the last question out.

And that wiped the amusement off his face, just barely.

“Yes, I did.”

The answer was immediate, too immediate to be rehearsed.

With my heart in my mouth, I searched his expression, my pulse hammering. “You’re lying?” I whispered, tears burning the corner of my eyes.

Shoving his hand into his hair, he shrugged.

“If I'm lying, I’d enjoy it more,” he said dryly.

Seeing I was going to lose it completely, he pushed his hands forward.

“Relax, you passed out in the bar fully clothed. You had jeans on… I couldn't let you sleep on that so I gave you my vest and slept on the couch.”

I exhaled sharply, relief mixing with something I refused to name.

“Then how did you end up beside me?” I questioned.

“You woke up screaming at three a.m, I had to come on and soothe you.” Grinning now, he added, “You refused to let go of me so…”

I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or grateful. But instead of going for any, I chose anger.

“This doesn’t explain why I’m in your apartment.” I snapped but I didn’t get a response.

Ocean turned away from me only to start walking toward the kitchen like he had all the time in the world.

I followed him immediately, my bare feet slapping against polished floors.

“Hey,” I snapped. “I asked you something.”

“You asked five things,” he replied calmly. “Pick one.”

I stalked after him, still wearing nothing but his vest, which brushed the tops of my thighs every time I moved.

His apartment was massive, open-plan, modern, all steel, glass, and muted colors. It screamed Ocean Rhett, controlled, intimidating and expensive.

“Why did you bring me here?” I demanded.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and tossed it to me. “Because you were drunk, because you were crying, because you passed out cold and because I’m not an asshole.”

I caught the bottle clumsily. “That’s debatable,” I said under my breath, watching the corner of his mouth lift.

“Yet here you are.” He smacked his lips.

Glaring at his back, I scowled, “Stop deflecting.”

He turned to face me, leaning casually against the counter. “Stop interrogating.”

“Then stop being smug!” I challenged him, earning myself a full smirk.

“You look cute when you’re mad.” He chuckled.

“I am not cute,” I snapped. “I’m furious.”

“You’re wearing my vest.”

“I didn’t ask to!”

“You didn’t refuse either.”

That did it because that instant, I marched toward him, jabbing my finger into his chest.

“This isn’t funny. I woke up next to my ex-boyfriend's rival with no memory of the night before. Do you know how that looks?”

Ocean looked down at my finger, then back at my face. “Do you care how it looks or how it feels?”

I stiffened and then slowly, I asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said evenly, “that Reis didn’t look half as concerned about you last night as you think he would’ve.”

My stomach dropped at once. “You don’t get to talk about him.”

“Why?” he challenged. “Because it hurts?”

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable then he straightened. “I know what happened.”

“What?” I blinked.

“With Reis,” he said. “And Hannah.”

My throat tightened as memories came rushing in. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know he kissed her in the hallway,” he said bluntly. “I know you saw it and I know you walked out looking like someone ripped your heart out.”

With my pulse racing in my ear, I stared at him. “You were watching?” I whispered.

“I was there,” he replied. “Unlike him.” He added

His response made anger flare hot in my chest. “So what? You dragged me here out of pity?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Out of opportunity.”

That word made my skin prickle and it forced me to keep my whole attention on him, “Opportunity for what?”

Ocean’s gaze sharpened, something darker flickering beneath the surface. “Revenge.”

A short, disbelieving laugh burst out of me. “You’re unbelievable.” I chuckled, crossing my hands on my chest only to tug the vest downwards.

“You didn’t say no.”

“I’m saying it now,” I snapped. “You want to use me the same way Reis did… to get back at him, huh.”

“That’s not what I said.” He tried to defend himself.

“That’s exactly what you said,” I shot back. “You hate him, you want to hurt him and suddenly I’m useful.”

Ignoring my rants, Ocean stepped closer. “You were already hurting.”

“That doesn’t make me your weapon.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it makes you motivated.”

“I’m not interested,” I said flatly. “I don’t want revenge. All I want right now is my clothes.”

Adjusting the band of his sweatpant, he studied me for a long moment, then nodded.

“Laundry room,” he said.

Confused, I frowned. “What?”

“Your clothes,” he said. “I washed and dried them.”

“You… what?” I gasped, disbelief washing over me.

“You smelled like tequila and regret,” he replied. “I figured you would want them clean so I helped.” He smacked his lips then shrugged.

With my hands folded by my side, I swallowed hard, my pride stinging in my throat.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Still did it.”

Rolling my eyes, I brushed past him. “Where?” I demanded.

He pointed down the hall, saying, “Second door on the left.”

When I got to the laundry room, I grabbed my clothes without saying thank you, changed quickly, and stormed toward the front door, my head spinning with too many emotions to name.

I was halfway out when footsteps pounded behind me.

“Astrid.” He called but I didn’t stop.

“Astrid,” he repeated, louder this time only then did I turn sharply.

“What?”

He stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable. “You’re walking away from an advantage.”

“I don’t want your advantage.”

Tilting his head, he smirked but that simple gesture of his sent my heart racing at once.

“What if I tell the whole school what happened last night?” he asked calmly.

“You know, I don’t need proof to make them believe you slept on my bed but I do have one.”

Before the words could sink in, he lifted his hand.

My breath caught as he waved my earrings in front of my face.