Rhettie?

Cassian

Rhett is looking at me with shock plastered on his face, his mouth open and opening and closing like a fish. He’s confused because why the fuck would I, of all people, save his ass out there on the rink when I’m not even supposed to be there.

I smile and wrap my arm around his shoulder. “You’re literally injured, Rhett, and now you’re in practice? I told you not to come. Glad I decided to stop by.”

By now, Rhett has realized what game I’m playing because he shoves my arm and glares down at me harshly. But the damage is already done. I can hear the frantic whispering from his teammates, and best of all, Cassidy Green is standing at the other side of the bleachers, filming the whole interaction for her TikTok account. She’s a popular puck bunny, and half of Blackridge follows her account where she posts everything about them from training to hangouts, parties… This is going to keep the entire campus talking for weeks—Rhett Reed, the mighty bad boy captain, needing a protector to fight his battles on his own ice. I am completely emasculating him in front of the people who are supposed to fear him. A few more stunts like this, and it won’t just be his tough-guy reputation on the line; everyone will begin to question his orientation.

Just then, his coach skates over, looking furious as he glances between me and Jacob, who is still groaning and trying to pick himself up off the floor.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you on my ice?”

“Someone close to Rhett,” I say smoothly, giving him a sweet, innocent blink. “And he’s injured badly, so I’m here to take him back to the dorm. Also, you lot are violent folks.” I give a mock shudder, pretending to look disgusted by the sport, and slide my arm right back around Rhett’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Rhettie,” I murmur.

Rhett tries to pull away, his muscles tensing, but I keep my grip firm. He can’t actually fight it because his body is too weak from the beating his father gave him, so he’s forced to lean into me, stumbling slightly as I guide his body off the ice. For a second, I want to feel pity for him because of what he is going through, but I push the thought to the back of my mind.

He deserves every bit of this. He deserves every bad thing that comes to him.

The moment we are away from prying eyes, Rhett snaps.

“Whatever fucked up game you’re playing needs to fucking stop,” he seethes, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Rhettie??? Are you fucked in the head? And why take me away from training?”

I drop my arm, the fake sweetness instantly evaporating from my face. I look at him, completely unbothered by his anger. “If you’re so pissed off, why don’t you just go back to the ice?”

Rhett lets out a frustrated breath. “Because you’re not letting me!”

I burst out laughing just then. “Wow. You make it sound like I’m your mommy, Rhett. Grow some balls and make your own decisions.”

I don’t wait for his response. I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving him to limp back to the lockers alone. I know he’s not going back out on the ice because his coach won’t let him play now that he knows he is injured.

By the time Rhett makes it back to the dorm room, I’m already sprawled out on my bed, tapping away on my laptop. He looks even more exhausted than before.

“Took you long enough,” I snicker.

“Well, thanks to you, my coach gave me a long talk, and the only reason he is not kicking me off right now is because of my injuries. I hope you got what you wanted.”

“Nah,” I smirk. “Not even close to getting what I want.”

Without saying a word to me, he grabs a fresh change of clothes and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

I smile, stretch my arms over my head, and decide to head down to the vending machines to grab a drink, leaving my laptop sitting wide open on the desk.

When I walk back into the room ten minutes later, clutching a soda, the atmosphere has completely changed.

Rhett is standing by my desk, still in his sweatpants. Hus hair is damp from the shower, dripping slightly but he isn’t moving to do anything about it. He is staring at my open screen, gripping the edge of the table so hard it has become bent. The expression on his face is beautiful—betrayal, shock, fury.

He slowly turns his head to look at me, and damn, if looks could kill, I’d be gone.

“Woah, should I be scared?” I tease.

“What the fuck is this?”

I blink at him, taking a sip of my drink slowly as I close the door behind me. “What do you mean?”

“You started the fucking petition!” Rhett yells, pointing a trembling finger at the screen, where a change.org page is brightly displayed. The headline reads: Remove Rhett Reed as Blackridge Hockey Captain Due to Gross Negligence and Unprofessional Conduct. It already has over four hundred signatures from the student body, even though it’s only been three days since I put it up immediately after his game.

“Oh, that?” I ask carelessly, walking over and shutting the laptop screen halfway. “I forgot I even sent that out after your disastrous performance at the last game. Wow, look at those numbers. People really seem to agree with me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Rhett yells, stepping into my space, his eyes flashing with rage. “This is my life, Cassian! My father is going to kill me if the board sees this!”

I don’t flinch. Instead, I let my smile spread even wider. It’s time to play my favorite game: gaslighting.

“Why are you yelling at me, Rhett?” I ask in a very soft and patronizing tone. “First off? Why did you invade my privacy and check my laptop?”

“You left it open and I saw my picture!”

“Even so,” I reply, “you had no right. It’s a violation of my privacy, and if you hadn’t been performing like garbage on the ice, no one would have signed it. You brought this on yourself. Plus, how are you just knowing about it? Your little girlfriend didn’t tell you?”

“Don’t bring her into this!” he roars. “And I was distracted because of you! That performance was—”

“Because of me?” I chuckle, stepping even closer as I interrupted him. “I was just in the fucking stands, minding my own business. Why were you even looking at me in the first place, Rhett?”

“Because I—”

I don’t let him finish. “There are thousands of people in the stands and I’m the only one capable of distracting you? Is that a confession you’re trying to make, Rhett? Eww.”

Rhett opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. He just stares at me, completely paralyzed by the trap I’ve laid for him.