Chapter 5: Soft Like Thunder: Chapter 4

I FINALLY GOT THE CALL. I’d been waiting for it ever since I’d filed a claim on my car’s insurance policy. I shouldn’t have been surprised my dad had let it fester. That was another way of exerting his control. He left me to wonder when he’d call, then he’d decide when it had been long enough.

“Sit down, Theo.”

Andrew Whitlock was the father I never wanted. He wasn’t a bad guy in an evil villain sense, but he wasn’t a good man either. He’d been mostly disinterested my whole life but had flipped a switch a couple years ago. Now, I was in California, experiencing what it was like to be Andrew’s pet project.

I took a seat opposite him, his grand, mahogany desk between us. The nameplate at the edge of his desk shined like it had been recently polished.

“Hey, Dad.”

He clasped his hands together on top of a stack of papers. “Tell me about the car.”

“Someone vandalized it while it was parked outside the T.” I scrubbed at my jaw. “It’s my fault for parking on the outer edge of the lot. Unfortunately, the cameras didn’t reach that corner.”

It wasn’t a question of handing over Helen. My father, along with my stepmom, could more than afford to repair the car—a car I didn’t give a shit about. And I got the feeling Helen could not.

But withholding her name wasn’t about doing her a favor. No, this was entirely about a chance to stick it to my dad.

“Do you think I should foot the bill for that?” he asked.

I lifted a shoulder. “Do or don’t. I didn’t want the car in the first place.”

His dark brows came down over his even darker eyes like thunder bolts. “Do you expect me to believe you want to go the next three years without a vehicle? More if you don’t find an adequate-paying job post-graduation?” He leaned back in his chair, his clasped hands resting on his soft gut. “I don’t get this car repaired, you’ll be back in this office within a week telling me how right I was in the first place.”

I turned my palms up. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Theo.” He slapped his palm down on the leather arm of his chair. “I’ve put up with this lackadaisical attitude for months now. I’m done. I should have been done when you quit wrestling, but what can I do? I can’t force you to go back. All I can do is sit back and watch you screw up and hope you’ll see the error of your ways.”

I shook my head hard. “There was no error when I quit wrestling.”

It was laughable that he believed he’d sat back and done nothing when I told him I’d quit wrestling. He’d thrown a lamp across his pristine living room, then went on a ten-minute rant about work ethic, quitters, success, and how I was my mother’s son, through and through.

There was no letting it slide, not when it affected Andrew Whitlock’s reputation. As the president of Savage U, he enjoyed having a son who was a star athlete at his university. He’d never once been to a match, not a single one, but he took my accolades like they were his own.

His nostrils flared. His artificial tan became mottled with red. “I disagree. But beyond wrestling, you ended a relationship with a girl you should have been planning to marry. You’ve turned down multiple invitations from Miranda for dinner and brunch. And now this with the car. You’re becoming someone I’m not proud to call my son, and I won’t stand for it.” He leaned forward in his chair, locking his gaze on mine. “You will not embarrass me on this campus.”

My gaze on his never wavered. “That isn’t my intention. Last semester, I maintained a three-point-five GPA and earned the respect of my teachers. I don’t know…I’d think that would hold some weight.” He didn’t respond, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest was all I needed to see. My GPA wasn’t big and flashy, like being one of the best collegiate wrestlers in California. A three point five didn’t make up for the loss of bragging rights and status. Dear Father was disappointed.

I pushed my palm down my thigh. “I’ll call Miranda and schedule a meal. It’s been busy with the start of school. But I’ll call her.”

His nod was sharp. “You do that.”

Miranda was my stepmom of three years. She was fine. Decent for someone who’d grown up in a mansion with servants and the finest of the fine. She’d married my dad for love, which blew my mind since I found him utterly unlovable. Seeing them together, I couldn’t get a bead on if he returned the love to Miranda or her millions in the bank.

I’d turned down her invitations more as an excuse not to see my dad. Since she was more self-aware than Andrew Whitlock would ever be, I had a feeling she knew. But I could do a dinner to keep the peace.

“As for the car,” Dad’s fingertips turned white as they pressed down on his desk, “it will be repaired. This is your last chance, though, Theo. My patience is running thin. You will toe the line or I will cut it.”

“I understand.”

I fucking dreamed of cutting ties with this man. And I would, the minute my diploma was in my hand. Until then, I was stuck listening to his rants and throwing him a bone of cooperation every once in a while.

“I really hope you do. I don’t want to have this type of conversation again. Keep your nose clean and in your books. No more bullshit.”

Because I was done with line of bullshit, I forgot myself for a split second and saluted him. “Aye, aye, captain.”

His out-of-shape body went taut, and the fingers pressing into his desk went so white, I wondered if they would snap clean off.

“Get out, Theo,” he groused. “This isn’t the projects. Take that trashy attitude with you and don’t let it out the next time I see you. I won’t stand for it.”

I rose, thunder reverberating off the walls of my chest. I could take a lot from him, but when he brought up where I grew up with my mother, violence filled my veins. He was lucky I had more self-control over my body than I did my mouth. Damn lucky.

Swiveling on my heel, I stalked to the door of his office. Hand on the knob, he called out, “Make sure to contact Miranda. I’ll be checking with her.”

I raised a hand, forcing my fingers to straighten from a fist. Then I walked the fuck out, asking myself for the thousandth time since I met Andrew Whitlock on my fifteenth birthday how I could be related to such a dumb fuck.

I still didn’t have the answer.

With two hours to kill between classes on Thursdays, I wove through the stacks to claim the spot I’d discovered last year. It was the perfect location, out of the way and quieter than any other part of the library. A big part of the reason I’d maintained my decent grade point average was because of that spot. I’d gotten some intense studying done there since my freshman year.

After the meeting with my father, I needed the quiet to come down from the furious high he always brought on.

Except…my spot was occupied.

I couldn’t stop the grin from taking over. The little tiger herself was sitting in the armchair tucked in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest, a highlighter between her teeth, a pencil impaling the mass of shiny chocolate hair piled on top of her head. Not a shred of makeup on her face that I could tell except for her red, red lips. She held . Her brow was pinched as her eyes darted over the page.

She looked cute and cozy. She was probably getting some good studying done.

That didn’t change the fact that this was my spot, and I needed it.

“Get up.”

Helen’s head jerked back. Her eyes landed on me, and the highlighter fell from her mouth when she scowled. “What did you say?” she hissed.

“I said, get up. This is my spot. For the last year, I’m the only one who’s used it. Don’t know how you found it, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s mine.”

She snorted softly. “You’re funny, Theodore.” Then she went back to reading her play.

I’d had enough. Not even a week into the school year, and my patience was worn to scraps. So, I wasn’t really thinking when I bent down, scooped Helen Ortega up, plopped her on the floor, and took over the chair. It was an act of pure impulse.

Helen was up from the floor as soon as I settled. I looked up at her, blinking. She fumed like a little raging bull. It was cute, but I was pretty well done with this interaction. I took out my phone and opened the reading app to my chem textbook. Helen was still standing over me, but I ignored her. It wasn’t like she could move me out of this chair. She’d have to try harder next time.

“You fuck,” she muttered.

From the corner of my eye, I watched her face away from me and toss her arms out to the side. It didn’t register that she was backing up until she’d planted herself on my thighs and wiggled deep into the chair, her back pressed to my chest. It also meant her plush little ass was dangerously close to my dick.

“What do you think you’re doing, Helen?” I whispered beside her ear.

She lifted her book in front of her face. “I’m reading, Theodore. Be quiet. We’re in the library.”

I dropped my phone on the arm of the chair and clamped my hands on her hips. “The thing is, Little Tiger, I have a girl on my lap, I’m going to think she likes being there and might get ideas.”

“Well, your ideas would be wrong. I’m here to study. It’s not my fault you placed yourself under me.”

“Helen…” I rumbled, “you’re on my dick, baby.”

Her head tilted to the side, giving me a glimpse of the barest smirk ghosting her lips. “Oh, am I? What if your girlfriend sees? I’ve heard she’s a bitch, but is she violent? To be honest, I’m not in the mood to fight.”

I brushed a lock of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear, and she stiffened all over. I dragged my fingers down to her jaw, and she jerked her head to the side.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“I won’t.” My hand fell back to her hip. She returned her attention to her play. I sighed. I was done for. There was no way my brain was going to function with Helen on my lap, sending off waves of disdain directly to me.

I kept hold of her hips and watched her for a solid minute. She was stiff the entire time and didn’t turn the page. Finally, she sighed.

“Stop looking at me.”

I huffed a laugh. “

on me. I don’t know what you thought would happen.”

“I thought you’d see how ridiculous you were to hijack the chair I’d rightfully claimed and find a different spot. I underestimated your level of asshole.”

My hands slid down to the curve of her upper thighs. “I have to admit, I was taken aback when you first planted yourself on my dick, but I’m seeing the light. Now I’m not sure why I’d ever move.”

She twisted so she could look at me. “Again, your bitch of a girlfriend. Or do you not care what she thinks?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have a girlfriend. If you’re referring to Abby, I’m wondering why you think she’s a bitch. Do you know her?”

Abby Fitzgerald wasn’t my favorite person anymore, but she had a good reputation. She wasn’t overly kind, but she didn’t go out of her way to be mean. At least, not that I’d ever seen. Then a-fucking-gain, she’d blindsided me near the end of our relationship, so I guess I could have missed it. It seemed I’d missed a lot with her.

Helen’s teeth sank into the corner of her bottom lip, and her nose scrunched. “I’ve heard she’s not very nice. I’m not going to throw my source under the bus, though.”

I studied her big brown eyes and ruby lips. Up close, Helen was something else. God, she was fucking gorgeous. The last thing I needed was an attraction to this girl, but there was no denying it. Trouble was looking at me like I was dinner, and all I wanted to do was offer myself on a platter for feasting.

Then, my brain kicked into gear again, and it occurred to me what she was saying.

“Abby was a bitch to Zadie? Is that what you’re telling me?” I asked.

From the lift of her chin and twitch of the corner of her mouth, I got my answer. Still, she denied it.

“I didn’t say that.”

“What’d she do to Zadie?” She tried to scoot forward, but I held her firm. “You broached this topic, throwing out strong accusations. Time to back it up, Tiger.”

“I’m not scared of you, Theodore. And I’m not saying another word. If you had cared to see while you were still with her, I’m sure you would know exactly what I’m talking about.”

My hand spread on her stomach. “I’m not trying to scare you. We’re just talking.”

“I’m reading. That’s all I’m doing.”

“Okay.” The topic of Abby was dead, but I wasn’t done with Helen. “Read to me then.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

“Yeah. Read to me. I haven’t cracked that play yet. You want, we can take turns. Read it together. It might be more interesting that way.”

For a long beat, she didn’t say anything or move a muscle, then she gave a nod. “Keep your dick out of my ass and your hands to yourself and I’ll read with you. Only because I was just thinking I’d understand Will’s words better if I heard them out loud.”

I chuckled. “Will? Are you close, personal friends with Shakespeare?”

She shifted so her bottom was sideways on one of my thighs, her mouth quirking. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

Laughing harder, I snatched the book from her hands and studied the page she was on.

“I’m not really surprised about anything when it comes to you, baby.”

Her nose scrunched again. “None of that, Theodore. No cute nicknames. We’re studying together. We’re not friends, and your dick is never going to get closer to me than it is right now.”

I could’ve pointed out that she kept calling me Theodore, which wasn’t my name, so it was technically a nickname, but since I didn’t want her to stop, I did not.

“As fun as it is, I’m done arguing now.” I tapped the page the book was opened to. “You want to begin, or should I?”

“You.”

“All right. Let’s read some Will.”

The fuck of it was, an hour later, when we unfolded ourselves from the chair and went our separate ways without another word, I had absorbed more of what I’d read than I ever had on my own. That was when I knew, without a doubt, if Helen was in my chair the next time I sought out my spot, I’d plop her on my lap instead of the floor.

As for Helen…well, I was pretty fucking certain she’d stay right where I put her.