Into the Light (University of Isles #2)

14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

I was so tired and had been sleeping on and off in Rain’s bed before I went to go find him. I found him behind the house talking to Pico while smoking a cigarette. The patio light cast him in a glow that had him shining so brightly in the darkness of the night.

There was something so familiar about him, too. I was drawn in his direction. It was so different from when I first felt captivated by Ash. There was so much push and pull between us, but with Rain, in some weird cosmic way, I knew I was supposed to be here with him. Maybe not even in a romantic way, but that we would take this journey together.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he guided me upstairs toward the bathroom, which was across from his room.

“Hold on,” he mumbled before disappearing into his room and bringing out a stool. “Sit.”

He brought the stool to sit in front of the counter in the bathroom and shut the door behind us. He emptied the contents of the grocery bag which included a mixing bowl, paintbrush? It was some tool I’d seen at the salon. And some other tubes I didn’t recognize.

I shook my head, not understanding what was happening but trusting him, regardless.

“What’s happening?” I swung one leg over the stool, but before I could sit, he grabbed me by the waist and spun me around, instructing me to lean back.

“Why?” I questioned, but complied, and he gently placed a towel around my neck. My head was tilted over the sink, and he ran warm water over my hair. “I’m dying your hair back to its original color. If I were an expert, I’d give you any color you desire, but I hope your natural shade is okay?”

I paused, lifting my head abruptly to look at him. He was busy mixing something in a bowl, his eyes on a piece of paper. “What are you doing? Get your hair back in the water,” he instructed.

Instead of obeying, I continued to stare at him in disbelief, my mouth hanging open. I wasn’t sure if I fully comprehended what he was saying. “You’re dying my hair?” I asked, seeking confirmation.

“Yup,” he replied, still not looking at me. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Wait, do you even know what you’re doing to get it back to normal?” I asked once more, still in shock. For a moment, he glanced up at me, then back at the paper and laughed.

It was the sweetest melody filling the small bathroom—deep yet filled with joy, and if I thought my heart was going to burst earlier, it was now on the verge of exploding.

I couldn’t help but think how much I appreciated him for his care, laughter, and for simply being him.

The shock of the situation lingered, and the thought of even liking him in this way scared me. What he was doing for me, shocked me in the best way possible. It was a simple, gentle gesture, yet it was changing my life in a profound way.

As he continued to mix the dye, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much I had hated my hair. My once lustrous locks had become a mess of mismatched colors.

And here he was, offering a solution, taking the time to fix what had been broken. He wasn’t just repairing my hair, he was mending something deep within me.

His focus never waned. It was as if he had done this a hundred times before, though he claimed not to be an expert. As the minutes passed, I relaxed into the unexpected intimacy of the moment. There was an unspoken understanding between us, a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second.

When he finally finished mixing the dye, he looked at me with a small satisfied smile. “All done,” he announced, as if he had completed a masterpiece.

I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the dye. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice filled with genuine gratitude.

He met my gaze, his deep-blue eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, I felt like he could see right through me, as if he knew the tangled mess of emotions I had been carrying, and for the first time, I didn’t mind. It was as though he was peeling away the layers, revealing the real me underneath.

As he put the dye on my hair, I closed my eyes and let myself embrace the sensation. It was like a cleansing, not just for my hair but for my soul. This simple act of kindness was changing everything, and I was no longer scared of where it might lead.

He slowly painted the dye all over.

“Your neck okay?” he asked, and I laughed because even though I was in a shared fraternity bathroom, this was the experience I was supposed to get at the salon.

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes as his hands worked through my locks. The peacefulness was calming while he concentrated on working on my hair.

“So according to these instructions, you gotta let it sit on your head for twenty minutes.”

I pulled my hair up into a bun on top of my head and lifted off the bowl while sitting on the stool.

“Okay,” I said in a hushed tone. There were a few silent beats between us as he closed the bottles on the countertop and then looked back at me.

“Rain?”

“Mm-hm?” he murmured. There was no thinking right now. No thoughts in my mind other than happy ones. Because for the first time in eight really long months, I felt . . . loved. I grabbed his hands and placed them on my thigh.

“To keep your hands busy,” I whispered.

“Leave them here?” He chuffed, awkwardly leaning over with his hands on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow, and I chuckled.

“I guess you can move them around or something . . . if you need it.”

His hands rested on my thigh, and the sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The warmth of his touch was both maddening and exhilarating.

He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding what to do next. Then, slowly and tentatively, his fingers traced delicate patterns on my thigh.

“Like this?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes.”

My breathing quickened as his hands moved higher, inching up beneath the hem of the dress. He was so close to my core, but he didn’t venture there. Instead, he continued to trace those tantalizing patterns, watching me while moving his hands.

As the minutes passed, the room seemed to close in around us, and I was acutely aware of every sensation: the heat of his hands on my thighs, the rapid beat of my heart, the electric charge in the air. It was a touch I hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity, one that awakened a deep, primal longing within me.

As our gazes locked in a silent understanding, a potent current of longing flowed between us. In that intimate moment, we shared a profound desire that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken yet palpable. It was a yearning that echoed in the charged air around us, leaving me both exhilarated and trembling.

“Rain,” I breathed out, my voice sounding more like a moan than the initial warning I had intended it to be.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, locking his gaze on mine.

That was the question. Did I want him to stop? No. Did I need him to stop . . .?

He paused, as if reading the conflicting thoughts in my head, before pulling my dress back down. I didn’t realize I could feel like this again, that my body and mind had the ability to feel wanted, turned on, and desired by someone who wanted me.

But this was Rain, and Rain was so close to him . I was disappointed in myself for not having a definite answer to give him.

“It’s . . . it’s complicated—”

He held up a hand. “I get it, Ember,” he whispered before turning away from me and adjusting his pants.

“Wait—” I giggled like an immature teen. “Are you . . . hard?” I asked, and he tossed a look over his shoulders.

“Of course I am, mi pareja. Jesus Christ. I just have to look at you and I am fucking hard.” He threw his hands in the air when he finished. “That’s the fucking problem.”

I laughed with him, and then he came back over to look at my hair. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“The guy Tana was fucking admitted to what happened. I . . . convinced him to give me the instructions.”

“You hurt him?” I was surprised, because while Ash used physical force to get what he needed, Rain never struck me as the type.

“I did,” Rain confessed.

“It’s refreshing that you actually tell me the truth when I ask you a question. I never feel like I am digging for something from you.”

“I think that’s how it should be. My mom was always kept in the dark by Mr. Ortiz and my dad that when I was younger I promised myself I’d never become that way. I just feel like there’s no point in keeping secrets from you,” he whispered, and I grabbed his waist, opening my legs so he could stand between them.

I grabbed his chin, bringing him toward me, and something in the air shifted between us. It was hard to put into words or even explain, but I felt . . . safe.

“Thank you for making me feel this way.” I gestured around us, hoping he’d understand what I meant.

I didn’t know what was happening between us, but I knew there was something. I just didn’t think I was ready just yet to do anything about it. There was so much stuff left unsaid about Ash and so much I needed to tell Rain that it still felt too fresh.

“You deserve to feel this,” he murmured, and grabbed my jaw, tilting my head up. He pressed his lips against my forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an intimate gesture, but it awakened something deep within me.

There was something to be said about the fact I had met Rain first. I’d kissed Rain already last year. I knew what he tasted like, what his lips felt like against mine, but it wasn’t what I felt in this moment; this was so much more tender.

“I need to wash the dye out of your hair.” He pulled away from me and shook his head before I laid back into the bowl of the sink.

“Does it look okay,” I asked as I could see the dark brown water falling into the bowl out of the corner of my eyes. He stood next to me, his fingers threading through my hair, taking care to clean it.

“Think so,” he responded but furrowed his brow as he rinsed my hair.

After a few moments, he gave me a towel and I lifted off the bowl, then he dried me off and turned me around so I could see myself in the mirror.

“I know it’s wet still, but I think we got most of the . . .”

I was in shock as he rambled. My hair felt more alive. The bright pieces were gone, and nothing felt out of place. Marissa was right. A good hair color could make me feel like myself, but little did I know that I needed my own prince charming to come to the rescue.

“This is perfect. I feel . . . good,” I whispered, realizing how transformative this entire night had been. It was something I knew I needed for me to heal, to move forward. With grief, there was no moving on, but I needed to learn to live in the present again.

“Of course.” Rain agreed before opening the door. It was well into the early hours of the morning, and I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I let out a large yawn.

“Come on,” he whispered, and I jumped off the stool and followed him to his room.

“Are you going to take me home?” He looked over at me while I took a seat at the edge of his bed.

“No,” he said quite matter-of-factly.

“Oh?”

“Stay with me?” he muttered. His shoulders slumped forward as he reached out for my hand. His eyes had deep circles underneath them and as much as I wanted to stay here for him, sleeping in the same bed was so personal.

“Okay.”

He took his shirt off, leaving every curve and etch of his torso on full display. His skin was flawless, free of tattoos, just golden hues of beauty. We stared at each other, unmoving.

His hands moved up toward the waistline of his jeans in an erotic way, and I swear I stopped breathing as he unbuckled and unzipped his pants.

“Do you like what you see, Ember?” he asked in a raspy voice. I gulped. The only thing I could do was nod.

“You don’t have the cave tattoo,” I whispered.

He shook his head then shrugged. “Everyone is supposed to get one, but I never felt like I fit in. Mr. Ortiz never hounded me to get it.”

He slipped out of his jeans, and his abs rippled as he bent down to pull them off. He stood in front of me in his boxer briefs, his entire golden body on display like that of a statue. My eyes closed, imagining my hands circling around his tight chest.

I took a deep breath before I exhaled and opened my eyes, staring as he pulled on a pair of gray sweats.

“N-no shirt?” I asked before he chuckled.

“Do you want me to wear one?”

“I mean, that is not my decision, it’s totally up to you.” He laughed again, and I sounded like a fucking idiot blubbering away.

“Turn around and scoot over,” he demanded, and I did what he instructed before he slipped into the bed and laid next to me.

As I gazed at the wall, he encroached upon my personal space.

“When we were younger,” Rain began, his voice tangled with the weight of his memories, “Mr. Ortiz would chastise Ash about not making his bed properly. We shared a room until we were teenagers, so I’d often sneak into his bed late at night when I heard him crying, facing the wall.” My heart ached at the thought of a young Ash enduring such beratement from his only family member.

“You were strong too, Rain,” I remarked, a heaviness in my own words. “He was forced to grow up fast, but you were thrust into a caregiving role when you were just a kid yourself.”

Rain chuckled, though it held no mirth, more like a sigh of disbelief. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” A somber silence settled between us, with only the patter of rain against the window providing a soundtrack.

“I’d lie down with him,” Rain continued, his voice softer now, “and just stay there in silence until he eventually calmed down and drifted off to sleep. It was a tough household for him . . .”

I turned around slowly, my eyes inadvertently locking onto his bare chest. “I can’t even begin to imagine how tough it must have been for him, and how much love you felt compelled to give him.”

Rain nodded, and I thought I glimpsed a tear tracing a path down his cheek.

“You were mine the moment you laid your lips on me,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Until he met you.”

Suddenly, it hit me. I, too, had become that person in Ash’s life, though I hadn’t fully comprehended it until now. Rain must have grappled with a whirlwind of emotions when I entered the picture.

“And then, suddenly, you had to share that role.” I realized, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

“Yeah,” Rain confirmed, a hint of resentment in his tone. “I resented you for a while, but there was also this inexplicable connection between us. I felt the need to protect you, too. It’s one of the reasons I couldn’t participate in the initiation.”

“Really?” I responded, as Rain rarely spoke about such matters.

“It just felt too intimate,” Rain explained. “Aside from the fact that I find it utterly ridiculous.”

“I know Marissa and Pico enjoy it, but I don’t think I could ever do it again,” I admitted.

“If you were mine,” Rain murmured, his fingers gently tilting my chin upward. “I’d never share you.” His possessiveness startled me, as I had always envisioned myself with someone equally possessive, not someone who could share.

“Do you regret it?” Rain asked, his voice laced with hesitancy.

“No,” I replied without hesitation. “I consider it a life experience, but honestly, it’s not something I’m eager to repeat. I think I have other . . . preferences,” I confessed, my cheeks warming at the admission. It was a word I wouldn’t have uttered years ago, but I had evolved since then.

The corners of Rain’s lips twisted slightly. “You have other preferences, mi pareja?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” I stammered, feeling my cheeks flush even deeper. “Yes,” I finally admitted.

“Oh,” Rain responded, not pushing further. “Me too,” he whispered into my ear, and I turned to face away from him. I sensed his hand hovering near my waist, and then he shifted so his back pressed against mine. He lifted the covers, enveloping us both. Sleep began to claim me, but amid my drowsiness, I couldn’t help but reflect on everything Rain had done for me today—the risks he had taken, the confessions he had shared, and the deepening connection between us.

It was a revelation I hadn’t anticipated, but it kindled a fire of affection and desire within me that I couldn’t ignore.