Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Skyla

M y teeth are practically chattering together as I wrap my arms around myself, walking as quickly as I can just for the sake of trying to warm-up. It only took me another twenty-feet of walking to realize that I’m still locked out of my dorm.

When I pass by the pool, I pause. I doubt it’s unlocked, but it’s worth a shot. At least they have showers.

Please, please, please .

I repeat the word over and over again, hoping and praying the door will give, but all my hopes are dashed in an instant when I pull, only to be met with locked resistance. Damn.

I turn on my heel, heading to I don’t even know where, when I hear the door open behind me and a deep voice rasping my name.

“Skyla?”

My head whips around, locking eyes with a dripping wet Ronan. He’s wearing a t-shirt that is soaking by the second and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he leans against the door, keeping it propped open as he does.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowns at me. “You’re wet, dirty, and bleeding.”

I look down to see my palms are cut open, a small drip of blood coming from my right hand before splashing onto the light grey pavement. When did that happen?

“C’mon,” he says, with a nod inside the building.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I rush inside, slipping past him and into the warm hallway. A shiver runs through me as the heat pricks my skin. I feel a large hand rest against my lower back and turn to see Ronan nodding to me.

“Let’s go clean you up.”

I shakily nod as I begin walking. He guides me easily, not removing his hand from my back the entire time.

When we are in his office he gestures to the empty seat across from his desk, before he crouches down and begins rifling through a cabinet. In no time he’s pulling out a first aid kit, taking out a few alcohol wipes as he kneels before me.

His large hands tenderly take my own away from my lap, holding them out to him palms up before he speaks.

“This probably won’t feel great.”

He takes the wipe and runs it across my cut. I sink my teeth into my lip as I cringe. God, it’s way deeper than I even thought. How did I not notice until now? How did I not feel how much it stings until now?

“You won’t need stitches,” he says softly, almost to himself.

His strokes are careful, but thorough, as he brushes away chunks of dirt and blood. Eventually it stops hurting, instead of focusing on my hand, I stare at the gentle giant before me.

Not a word is spoken between us as he dutifully cleans my hands, bandaging them up as soon as he’s finished. I move to pull my hands away, but he stops me, tightening his grip as my eyes come to his. Those deep blue eyes staring at me intently, practically pinning me in place.

“What happened?” he asks.

I swallow roughly, before I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh.

“Asher.”

His eyes narrow at me.

“Explain.”

Turning my head away, I shake my head, too tired and honestly too defeated to get into it right now. I just want this night to be over.

He doesn’t seem to accept my silence, holding his gaze on me and seemingly waiting me out. I don’t give in, though and he lets out a rough breath before he stands.

“C’mon. You can shower in the locker room.”

He moves to a cabinet to the side, pulling out a few small bottles and what looks like a shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he walks through his office door. I follow after him as he leads me just outside the locker room, pausing at the entrance as he hands me the mini bottles of shampoo and bodywash, along with a black Gallows Hill shirt and sweats.

“Towels are in there. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone coming in. Make sure you keep your bandages dry.”

“How am I supposed to do that when washing my hair?” I question.

He rolls his lips together for several seconds, that signature stoic look on his face.

“Do you need me to do it?”

A thrill runs through me, the thought of those strong fingers running through my hair. The warm water running against my skin—

“Clothed, obviously. Your clothes could use a rinse anyways,” he adds.

Disappointment pangs through me, though I don’t know why. It’s not like him washing my hair is going to lead to us sleeping together. He’s not going to strip away my virginity right here and now, nor would I want him to. Right? Right.

I nod. “That would be great. Thank you.”

He dips his head and I slowly make my way inside the locker room. They only have one, probably because there is only a men’s swim team so there is no need for a women’s locker room.

The perimeter of the room is surrounded by lockers, the middle has several benches and a line of showers. I step up to the first one, turning the water on for a moment as I allow it to heat up. Once it’s warm enough, I take a step into the spray, practically melting into the warmth despite the heavy soaked feeling of my sweater and jeans against my skin.

I let the water run through my hair, trying to resist the temptation to run my fingers through it as my makeup begins washing away. God, what is it with Ronan seeing me without makeup? Either bad timing or something more cruel. He’s probably seen me barefaced more in this last week than my father has seen me from puberty up, which I guess isn’t saying much.

He takes a step towards me, squirting a small amount of shampoo into his hands, gesturing for me to turn around. I do as he says, allowing the spray to run down my front as his hands begin lathering my hair. At first, his movements are rough and jerky and I wince as he yanks on my hair. Soon, though, his fingers reach deeper, slowly beginning to massage my scalp. I let out a pleasured groan that has his movements pausing. Damn it. That’s what I get for opening my mouth, I ruin a perfectly good thing.

To my surprise, he continues a moment later. I do my best to stay quiet as his fingers work through every single strand of hair. I’m practically putty in his hands as he washes the beer and dirt from my hair, replacing the smell with something fresh and a touch masculine. You won’t hear me complaining, though.

“Rinse,” he rasps roughly. I turn around to face him, keeping my eyes locked on his as I lean my head back under the water.

Only a second or two passes before he closes the distance between us, leaning over me as his hands massage my scalp a bit more, rubbing out all the shampoo as he does. I feel his breath against my neck and when he looks from my hair to me, my stomach flips. Without meaning to, I feel my teeth sink into my lower lip, pulling on it slightly. Ronan’s eyes snap down, watching me with rapt attention. I don’t know how long we stay like that before he’s shaking his head and ripping away, like touching me physically burns him.

“Go ahead and dry off. I’ll walk you back to your room once you’re dressed,” he says, practically jogging out of the locker room before I can even tell him I can’t get into my room.

I stand there for several seconds, allowing the water to pour over me for just a little bit longer before I shut the shower off. Quickly, I peel off my soaked clothes, tossing them on the ground before slipping on the shirt and sweatshirt. They are both at least five sizes too big for me, so I end up rolling the sweatpants several times and tying the shirt off into a crop top.

Wrapping my clothes up with the towel, I walk out of the bathroom to find Ronan leaning up against the wall. He pushes away from it quickly, as his eyes rake over me for only half a second before he looks to the floor roughly.

“Let’s go.”

“I don’t have my key, I left it inside my room.”

He nods before moving into his office, grabbing out a key card. “Master key,” he explains.

I frown at that.

“I’m not sure I like the idea that people have access to my room whenever they want.”

“Not people, just me and the dean.”

My head tilts to the side at that.

“Why you? The dean and the swim coach? Seems like a strange combination.”

His jaw tightens as he gives me a look of irritation.

“Is that how you say thank you?”

“No,” I answer flatly, causing him to let out a gruff laugh. Or maybe it was a bothered huff. Either way, he scrubs his hand against his jaw and shakes his head.

With that, he heads for the door. I follow right behind him as we leave the pool, shutting the lights off as we go before stepping outside. The crisp night air instantly bites at my wet head, and I shiver the entire way until we make it to the Parris dorm.

As soon as we get there, Ronan smashes the elevator button like it has personally offended him before stepping to the side. When the elevator opens, he makes a sweeping motion with his hand as I step inside. He follows in after me, and soon the doors are opening again once we’ve reached my floor.

We walk down the hall until we’re outside my door. I point at it in silent communication and Ronan waves his key card over it, forcing the locking mechanism to whir on command before I push it open. Instead of just walking inside I turn to look at him, so many words, yet none at all resting on the tip of my tongue.

He doesn’t wait around for me to say anything, though. Instead, he turns, moving to the elevator before hitting the button once more. His blue eyes turn to mine as he speaks softly, just before the doors open.

“Good night.”

“Night,” I say, my voice being cut off midway as he steps inside the elevator, the doors shutting right behind him.

My head is pounding, and I’m not sure I’ve been so ready for a week to be over in all my life as I step inside my dorm. I don’t bother turning a light on. Instead, I numbly walk over to my bed, pausing when I see a white rose and a note on my bedside table. I squint at it, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness with only a stream of moonlight illuminating the room.

The note is scribbled in messy handwriting, and I already know exactly who it’s from.

Welcome to Gallows Hill.

My lip curls up in disgust, as I shake my head and crumple up the note, tossing the rose and it into the trash. I don’t know why he is so hell bent on harassing me. I have literally done nothing to him, other than exist. Is he mad that I’m marrying him? Well, same here.

Fucking asshole.