“Do I want to live…? [W]ould you like to live with your soul in the grave?” — Heathcliff Earnshaw.
And even after preparing my mind that I wouldn’t swim ever again, I was forced to participate in the practice trials, by my ever helpful best friend, Niall. I couldn’t put to mind how much annoying he was and what harm would it do for him, to not to defy me for once in his life and just let me be? College was enough of a shit as it was, and I didn’t exactly need myself to join the swimming team to make myself more miserable. But Niall Renault was Niall Renault.
Junior year in this particular college in LA, had already gotten my knuckles in a twist. Like, who was even supposed to know that majoring in English would be that hard? Presently, I was being draped over by soft white sheets which were glowing beneath my hell of an attractive body, as I turned over to the other side to sleep in some more blissful minutes.
“Wake up, you lazy fuck.” A uncalled for, strong push almost toppled me over the bed, when my sleepy eyes adjusted to the intruder, slowly making an expression of sheer anger, as I somehow retained my balance on the bed by the edge of a knife.
“Niall, seriously? Leave me the fuck alone, man. Was it not enough when I applied for a spot in the swimming team just because you were being a bitch?” Irritation slipped in through every word which I spewed, and I noticed the guy crossing his arms over his chest in adamancy. Knowing that he wouldn’t back off, I gave him a hard stare, suddenly feeling the sizzling heat of summer burn against my flawless skin, already forming some red rashes.
“You switched the AC off? God, I hate you.” Harshly throwing the sheets covering me in his direction, I hoped down from the bed, noticing a huge tray of breakfast laid out on the table. But, I had to admit, this guy actually cared for my indecisive ass.
“Go, brush your teeth and have breakfast quickly. The results of swimming team participation is out. It has been pasted on the wall in the practice room. Gotta be there within 15.”
Me and Niall reached quite early, as one could say because we spotted no one in the room except us. He squinted his eyes, sizing up the result chart sheet, underlining every name with his index finger, which was printed on the paper, when finally after a minute or two, his soft brown eyes lit up in recognition after analyzing one particular name on it.
“You’re in, man.” And then, there it was : one of his most iconic smiles, which never failed to reach up to his eyes, suddenly engulfing me in a bear hug. I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t happy that I had gotten in the team. Maybe even co-curriculars were important to get one’s mind off academics once in a while.
After he let go off me, I smiled back at him, silently remembering how good of a swimmer I was back at high school. Moving from California to LA may have been the perfect choice for my step sister, but had proven to be a horrible choice for me. It was in Renault's friendship that I had found my sanity, lest all the commotion in this college would've sent me haywire in freshman year itself.
“I think we should hit up the night club today, as a celebration. After all, this is one of the most successful swimming teams that you've gotten yourself in, mate. And I can’t think of any other way you’d rather celebrate in, you cocky bisexual. ” Cocking his head to the side, he offered me a salacious grin at which I couldn’t help but guffaw.
Before I could even offer him a proper reply, hushed whispers of boys were heard from behind the door, before one of the most prominent ones kicks it open. Out of anger? Frustration? I didn’t know, either way. All I knew is, my attention snapped back at the rude boy, from my best friend when I saw him glaring at me.
Utterly confused as I was, I watched him storm to the result chart pasted on the wall beside us, quickly glancing at all of the names of the students who made it in the team. Within seconds, his cold grey eyes fixated themselves on me, as he sauntered forward, letting me get a full view of him.
I mean, lord bless the mark. Beside him being arrogant and a jerk, based off the first impression he made by the way he kicked the door down, everything about his physical features was just perfect. His auburn hair was slicked back with a few smooth strands falling on his forehead, his lips were drawn back in a dangerous snarl, which did nothing to damp down the beauty of them. The contours of his nose, the jawline and his cheekbones are cut to the finest accuracy, leaving no sloppy lines behind.
His black exercise tee was clinging to his perfectly muscled, yet lean body, his shorts barely covering the upper part of his thighs. Hard grey orbs flickered to my countenance, as he looked me up from head to toe, still wearing that sinister expression on his utterly indifferent face. I was intimidated, unnerved even, by that attractive a look, but if he was gonna be in asshole, I wasn’t the guy who'd back down. “How the fuck did someone like you,” He looked me up and down, studying me thoroughly with his eyes, fists clenched at both sides of his torso, ”get in the team?”
A/N : So, here I am with my new book and I hope you all will like it. I started writing this during quarantine, and it's almost over, so expect cliffhangers lmao.
Plus, every chapter of this book will start with a Wuthering Heights quote. I hope you all will enjoy reading “BEREFT”.
Your Dominant, GREY.