Bound to my High School obsession

Chapter 5: Exposed

The cold glass of water sat untouched on the counter, condensation pooling around the base like a ticking clock. My hands were shaking too badly to lift it anyway. The gray, muted dawn light was pouring completely unobstructed through the wide kitchen windows, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor and illuminating every corner of the room.

The house felt entirely too bright, entirely too open. The violent roar of William’s SUV had faded into nothing but a terrifying echo, leaving us completely vulnerable in a house that was supposed to look like nothing was wrong.

"Drink the water, Annabel."

Anthony’s voice broke the silence, rough and commanding. He hadn't moved an inch from where he stood near the refrigerator. His broad frame blocked my view of the back patio, his crystal clear blue eyes unblinking as they tracked the rapid, uneven rise and fall of my chest.

"I can't," I choked out, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, trying to hold the pieces of my shattered reality together. "They really left me. They actually left me here to keep up appearances."

"They did," he said, offering no sugarcoating, no gentle lies to soften the blow. "William was clear. The house has to look occupied. No boarded windows, no drawn blinds, no hiding in the dark. Which means the rules have officially changed. Go upstairs. Get out of that fleece robe and pajamas. Put on heavy, practical clothes. Jeans, a thick sweater, and boots."

I blinked up at him, my panic momentarily flaring into defensive anger as I looked at the bright, open kitchen. "Why does it matter what I’m wearing if we're just playing house?"

"Because if anyone looks through those windows, I need you ready to move," Anthony stepped closer, the sheer gravity of his presence forcing me to look up. "And remember what I just told you. From now on, you don't leave my sight. That means we move together. There are too many glass lines in this place for you to be wandering around alone."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You're joking. I'm going upstairs to change my clothes, Anthony. You are not coming into the bathroom with me."

"Try me," he murmured.

Turning on my heel, I marched out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs, my knees trembling so badly I had to grip the wooden banister for support. The morning sun was hitting the landing, making me feel horribly exposed, as if a dozen eyes were already fixed on the back of my neck. Beneath the terror of William's mess, a different kind of anxiety was blooming. I could hear the heavy, deliberate thud of Anthony's boots right behind me. He was trailing me so closely I could feel the heat radiating off his body, a shadow I couldn't shake.

When I reached the bathroom at the end of the hallway, I spun around and tried to slam the heavy wooden door right in his face.

Thud.

His large hand caught the edge of the door frame effortlessly, stopping the wood just inches from his nose. He didn't even blink. He stood tall, completely blocking the doorway, his massive shoulders taking up the entire frame.

"Anthony, back off!" I snapped, my voice rising in pitch. "I need an inch of privacy. Just an inch!"

His crystal clear blue eyes scanned my panicked face, reading the genuine exhaustion written all over me. His jaw tightened as he glanced over his shoulder at the open hallway window, calculating the lines of sight from the driveway. He didn't step back, but he compromised.

"I’m closing the door, but it stays cracked exactly one inch," Anthony commanded, his tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "I need to hear you. You have exactly five minutes to change, Annabel. If I hear a window open, or if you take a second longer than five minutes, I'm walking through this door. Do you understand me?"

"Fine!" I hissed.

I pulled the door until it hit his hand, watching him retreat just enough to let it settle against the latch, leaving a narrow, dark sliver of an opening.

Safe behind the barrier, I immediately collapsed against the sink, burying my face in my hands. The tears finally came, hot and fast, but I forced myself to cry silently. I couldn't let him hear me break. My hands shook violently as I tore off my robe and pajamas, pulling on a pair of thick denim jeans and a heavy wool sweater.

As I frantically tied my boots, my mind spun in vicious circles. I was terrified of the invisible threat my stepfather had left at my doorstep, terrified of the very glass windows that let the sunlight in. But worse than that, I was terrified of how intensely my own body was responding to Anthony. Why was the untouchable god of Sheridan High School risking everything to play shield for me in this fishbowl? It didn't make sense. He could have run with Chase. He could have washed his hands of this entire family.

Instead, he was standing guard outside my door.

"One minute, Annabel," his rough voice cut through the silence from the hallway.

I took a deep breath, wiping the tear tracks from my face, and gripped the handle. When I pulled the door open exactly on the five-minute mark, Anthony was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

As I stepped into the hallway, his posture shattered.

The sharp, distinct sound of his breath catching in his throat cut through the quiet corridor. His striking blue eyes swept over me, starting from my heavy boots, moving slowly up the tight denim of my jeans, and lingering on the oversized sweater that swallowed my frame before finally locking onto my face. For a fleeting second, the stoic mask completely dropped. A heavy, aching longing flashed across his features—a look so raw and full of unsaid years it made my heart stop. He looked at me less like a bodyguard and more like a man who had waited entirely too long to have me right here, completely in his space.

He swallowed hard, his expression hardening back into a disciplined mask, though his chest still rose and fell with that ragged breath.

He didn't say a word. He simply stepped into my space, his large, warm hand gently but firmly wrapping around my forearm to guide me back down the stairs, keeping his body positioned between me and the hallway window. The keys to William's heavy-duty truck were heavy in my pocket, a reminder of the agonizing role I had to play. I wasn't just hiding in plain sight; I had to go out there, drive his routes, and act like everything was fine while the target on my back grew wider by the second. As Anthony's grip tightened protectively around my arm, I realized that whether I was inside this house or out on the open road, I was completely trapped in his orbit.