Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I try to swallow down the overabundance of saliva in my mouth, and my throat burns in protest. There's no way to hide how attracted I am to Bennett. All the confirmation he needs is in his hand. Literally. My defenses spur to life at his silent accusation.

"You know how to turn men on," I say with as confident a voice as I can muster.

"Men? Or you?"

I shrug stiffly. "Both. But don't get it twisted, Bennett. I'm not attracted to you."

Bennett removes his hand and raises a brow. "You sure about that?"

My anger builds at the condescension in his voice. I can't, fucking stand him. Everything about him is loathsome. And you know why? No, no need to get out a pen and paper to take notes. I could list this shit out in my sleep.

I hate the way he plays me. I hate his personality. I hate his lack of morals. I hate his selfishness. I hate that he's a better swimmer than I am. I hate that he knows it, too. I hate that he tried to get with Annie. I hate that he tried to turn the swim team against me. I hate that he doesn't care about all of the above.

Tears of fury build in my throat as the final, painful reasons tick through my head.

I hate that he knew Roland was gay before I did. I hate that he's in love with Weston. I hate that he's willing to fuck me over at a chance to be with him.

But more than anything, I hate myself for wanting him...despite it all.

"Very sure," I say evenly.

Whether it's because he can hear the quiet rage in my voice or because he can see the fury in my features, the smirk from Bennett's lips begins to fade.

"You got something to say?" he asks in a quiet, warning tone.

I square my shoulders to him. The alcohol in my veins has done far more harm than good for me this evening. I narrow my eyes to slits and lean forward.

"Yea," I mutter. "Tell that fuckhole Weston to mind his own business. If he wants to know if I'm gay, he can ask me himself."

Realization bursts through Bennett's features. He stumbles back a single step, temporarily dazed that I'm privy to him and Weston's little plan. I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe for Bennett to apologize tell me things have changed since then.

Instead his look of shock quickly turns to rage. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Kind of hard not to when the two of you were practically fucking in the kitchen."

Alright, that's a bit of an exaggeration. My jealousy pats itself on the back for the witty remark, but my pride cringes. My possessiveness is trickling in to the conversation, and that will lead to a whole, new can of worms.

Bennett grabs my shirt and slams me against his bedroom wall. The impact burns through my back, reminding me of our altercation in the men's bathroom all those weeks ago. His arms pin me into place, and his gaze becomes frenzied.

"If it wasn't for you, Roland would have never been with Weston in the first place," Bennett hisses. "The only reason those two were together was because Roland needed a side dish of dick until you were ready to waltz out of the closet. That dude you call a best friend was only using Weston. That's it."

I shove Bennett off me and brace myself for another attack. "Like how you were supposed to use me?"

"Yea," he answers shamelessly. "Exactly like that."