Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I sense him before I see him, standing beside the couch and interrupting my sleep like the professional nuisance he is. Instead of opening the curtains, Roland simply clears his throat – repeatedly - until I squint up at him. The fully warm bag of peas slides down my cheek and flops onto the floor.

"What?" I croak out hoarsely.

Roland squats down to my level. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but a low-riding pair of sweatpants and his flimsy reading glasses. His bright, brown eyes study my features like I'm one of his goofy science projects for lab. He brings his fingers up to my face, poking and prodding me until I hiss at him to stop.

Then his touch softens. The frown residing across his eyebrows smooths out into a relaxed line. He hesitates before sliding his thumb along my cheek and lower jaw. He catches my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and cocks his head to the side.

"He did a number on you," he whispers.

There's a look that glosses over his eyes for a split second...but then it's gone. He clears his throat, backing away from me and reaching to the side of the couch to retrieve another ice pack. It's frozen broccoli this time. He sets it against my jaw, and the pain from last night comes back in full swing.

"Does it still hurt?" Roland asks.

The sleep is thick in his voice. He runs a worried hand through his disheveled hair. I try to smirk at his sloppy appearance but even grinning is painful.

"I dunno," I mutter, trying to move my lips as little as possible. "Maybe you should let Bennett use you as a punching bag for a few minutes and tell me how you feel the next day."

A muscle tics in Roland's jaw. I glance down his torso, noticing how defined his muscles are. Every time he takes a deep breath they flex and practically glow from the light of the kitchen. A pang of jealousy nudges at the edges of mental envy jar. I guess since there were so many other guys at practice yesterday, I didn't notice how hard Roland has been working, too.

"Things got out of hand last night," Roland grits out after a moment of silence. "You stepped out of line and nearly knocked out one of the best swimmers on our team."

"He fuckin' deserved it."

"Be that as it may," Roland says over me, "you weren't the one provoking it. Lucky for us, most of the team was there to witness it. They're willing to side with us."

I humph under my breath. If I had the energy, I'd reinforce the fact that they'd be idiots not to side with us. This entire thing was Bennett's fault, after all. Somehow he figured out who my ex was and brought her to that party as bait to piss me off.

And it worked.

I attempt to roll onto my back and groan with pain. Roland wipes a hand down his tired face and purses his lips.

"I know this isn't the best time to bring this up," he says quietly. "But there's practice tonight. Do you think there's any way..."

"I'll be there," I confirm without him having to press further.

Even though I'll be showing up to practice looking bruised and battered, it'll be the perfect, silent vindication that I'm not giving up. I study my knuckles under the light, mentally picturing how badly all my cuts will burn beneath the chlorinated water.

Roland pats the couch and stands. "I'll bring you the first aid kit to clean those up."

Bringing me ice packs?