Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6)

by Allison White

  “How do you know where she lives?” I ask.

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Yes, of course.” I take his hand and lead him to one of the couches to the side. After we sit on the plush sofa, I turn to him and raise my brows expectantly.

  He lets out a heavy sigh, like this has been weighing on his chest for a while. “Well—don’t rat me out or anything or I’ll unfriend you on every social media account, but I may have snuck into the records storage place and stole her address information?” His voice rises at the end, like a question.

  I gasp and shake my head. “You didn’t.”

  He nods his head, cheeks fused with pink. “Oh, but I did.”

  I can’t believe it. The nerd is secretly a bad-ass…sounds like a poorly written teen fiction story. I’d totally read it if it featured this bowtie-wearing, Prius-driving baddie.

  “Why are you smirking at me like you’re proud?” he exclaims.

  I drop my smile and clear my throat. “No reason.” I rub my lips, erasing the smirk. “I just…why do you think you went through all that trouble?”

  Pink turns to a bouquet of roses. “She’s just too nice of a person to be abused in that way.”

  My teasing smile drops. “You’re right.” Although…“But breaking into a top-classified place…?” I let my words hang in the air, but he snips the invisible thread and lets them crash into the ground.

  “Don’t even start,” he warns, pointing a finger at me.

  I laugh and raise my hands. “Okay, okay…”

  He sighs and eyes me up and down.

  “What?” I shrug.

  “Nothing, just…thinking,” he says vaguely, then looks out into the crowd.

  “About?” I push his shoulder, and he looks at me seriously.

  “I was just wondering how you’re fine after you told Grey…” He trails off, the music getting too loud for me to hear anything. Does it have to be so loud? I can barely hear myself complain about the loud music!

  “What was that?” I scream over the music.

  He leans forward and tries again, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

  “Tell him what?” I scream, leaning forward.

  “Did you tell Grey about you turning down the paid internship in New York?” he bellows.

  The entire party is silent, staring at us as the DJ apologizes for the music tuning out the exact moment Matthew screamed like a banshee on crack. The music turns back on, and people whisper and stare at us with disgust.

  I look around for Grey, hoping he didn’t hear, but lo and behold, I find him staring at us with a horrified expression. Cutting his eyes from me, he says something to David before storming through the crowd. I follow him until I’ve lost him but hear a door slam shut.

  “Oh, for goodness sake…” I face-palm myself while Matthew slowly inches away from me.

  Chapter Seven

  “Grey, wait!” I push through the crowd, feeling my heart beat out of control. A million and one questions and thoughts run through my mind. Like why is his first reaction to run away from me, rather than ask me more about it? Why is he upset if he heard that I turned it down? Am I in the wrong for not telling him about it? I know I definitely am for not even bringing it up when it was still up in the air. I guess this is God’s way of punishing me for not being open with him when I still had that amazing opportunity, too scared of losing him.

  I find him in our bedroom. The party noise quiets when I shut the door beside me. I scan my eyes over the dark room, the only light being the moonlight pouring through the window. When my eyes finally adjust, I find him sitting on the trunk in front of the bed, his head in his hands. He looks so distraught, deep in thought, and hurt. But he doesn’t look angry, like I thought he would be. He usually freaks out when something big happens, so why is he so quiet? This is quite unnerving…

  “Grey, before you say anything, I turned down the deal.” I take cautious steps toward him, like he’s a beast who will pounce at any moment.

  “That’s the problem, Liv.” He lifts his head, and his eyes, nearly blending in with the dark, make me feel heavy with guilt.

  I sit next to him and nervously bounce my leg.

  “What did Matthew mean?” he asks softly, and I let a moment pass, waiting for him to correct himself and scream.

  But after I’m sure he’s going to be calm, I answer him. “I was offered a chance of a paid internship run by TPC, which is really hard to get at my age, and…and a spot at NYU.”

  “Jesus, fuck, Liv.” He jerks back and stares into my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “Because…I had to choose between the internship and you.”

  “Why would you think that?” he says incredulously.

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t have come to New York with me,” I tell him, frustrated at the obvious. “You told me so yourself.”

  “No, I did not.” He stands and paces the room, running his hands flat against his hair, pushing it back. “Fuck, Liv, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me? I thought we were supposed to tell each other things, especially big, important shit like a paid internship.”

  “I didn’t want to take the deal if it meant losing you.” I stand up and interrupt his pacing. He looks at me with wide, crazy eyes, his hair tousled and veins popping in his neck.

  “You should have talked to me about it in the first place!” he shouts.

  I take a step back. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

  “Damn right I am.” He rolls his eyes and leans against a wall, rubbing his lower lip.

  “So are we done here? Can we stop fighting?” I plead. I hate it when we fight; it usually blows up in our faces in the worst way possible. We aren’t at our best when we’re at each other’s throats or, worse, nowhere near them. Too stubborn in our own ways that we rather distance ourselves than communicate.

  “No, we can’t stop fighting,” he says, pushing past me to stride over to the window. With his arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he looks like a pouty child throwing a tantrum.

  “Why are you mad if I turned it down?” I ask curiously. I wouldn’t think he’d be mad I chose him over anything, no matter how big or small. He’s selfish when it comes to me.

  “Because…because, fuck! What you turned down was a big fucking deal.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m the fucking reason for it. I’m—I’m holding you back.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  He grumbles, looking out the window. “You’re better off without me.”

  “You must be pretty damn high to think that.”

  He doesn’t answer me.

  I sigh and cup his face, forcing him to look in my eyes. “You do not hold me back, Grey. You’ve propelled me forward, if anything. I’m more confident in myself, and you showed me love when all I knew were plans and abandonment. But you, Grey, because of you, I am who I am today. A girl who is madly in love with you, who knows to choose happiness, rather than emptiness.”

  “Mmmm,” he hums, holding me into his chest. “You wouldn’t have even thought twice about it if I weren’t in the way…”

  “You are not in the way. You are my way.”

  “Stop being cheesy. I’m trying to be mad at you,” he groans, rubbing his nose against my forehead. He tries to hide it, but I can see his lips betraying his tough façade. “I can’t be in your way. I want you to strive for better than me—”

  “Shut up,” I demand harshly. He frowns at me, and I roll my eyes, seeing how pathetic he looks and how stupid he’s thinking. I love him. He should know this by now. After all we’ve been through, after all I have given up for him, this shouldn’t be a doubt in his mind.

  I push him back onto the bed and take off my shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, gazing up at me with lustful eyes.

  “Showing you that you’re it for me.” I tug my pants down and kick them and my shoes away. As I take off my socks, I say, “No program, internship, m
oney, nor anything your stubborn mind can conjure up will stand in the way of us.”

  “You don’t have to fuck me for me to understand that we’re a couple,” he says, but he doesn’t protest when I straddle him.

  “That’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because I love you and because I apparently need to reassure your thick brain of that.” I lean down and grip his hair. He groans, and his hands grip my hips. I grind myself against him, sucking under his chin.

  “But—” he starts.

  I cut him off by covering his mouth with mine. I kiss him with everything I have, grinding against him, showing him that he is the only one for me. Nothing else compares to him. I don’t think anything ever will.

  I pull away and whisper, “Would you have come to New York with me?”

  “Fuck no, I hate New York. I told you that,” he says breathlessly as he unzips his pants.

  I pull them off and give him a pointed look. “I knew you wouldn’t go with me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  “But that opportunity, by what you told me, was once in a fucking lifetime—” He looks to the ceiling, falling into that beautiful but ruptured mind.

  I lean over his face and cup it. “Grey, you are a once in a lifetime. If I had accepted, I would have been miserable. We’ve already tried being apart. It doesn’t work. Ever. So don’t think of it as a wasted opportunity. Think of it as the beginning of the rest of us.”

  He sighs heavily but nods. “Fine.”

  I smile slowly, laughing. “You are the only guy who is hesitant to have sex with his girlfriend because she chose to stay with him. Do you…do you not want to do this?” I sit back onto my feet, covering my chest, feeling weirdly self-conscious. I’ve become so confident with this, but if he doesn’t want it, want me…then it’d just hurt, and I’d be a major fool.

  He sits up quickly and pulls me onto his lap. “Oh, I still want to fuck you.” He smirks and switches positions so he’s straddling me, my hands pinned to the bed underneath his large hands. “But on my terms. To show that you made the right choice.”

  “There was no other choice, only you.”

  His face twists up a bit, and I know he’s being self-conscious himself, thinking I’m being held back by him.

  I reach up and cup his face gently. “Don’t think like that, Grey. Stay with me.” My voice is soft as I trail my thumb against his soft lips. He closes his eyes and slowly nods, slowly coming back to me, slowly accepting nothing else matters but him. Our love is too magnificent to be tested by an internship. I learned that the hard way last time, but this time, I am stepping back and being confident with who I want to spend my life with, possibly the rest of my life. I’m choosing the love of my life.

  Just to cement the idea and ground him to me, I lean up and attach our mouths together. Sparks fly as our tongues mold against each other, tasting familiar spots we’ve claimed our own. I could kiss him a million times and never grow tired of it. Each time is like the first time. Minus the slight hatred and confusion I had back then.

  Back then, I was admittedly afraid he’d mess everything up, derail my plans. And he did, greatly. But I wouldn’t change anything. He has changed me, sometimes for the worse, but overall, for the better. I’ve seen the middle ground, the gray…and I never want to leave.

  Not when it makes me feel alive.

  In no time, we are both naked. He enters me slowly, and I grip his hair for balance. One hand on my hip, fingers digging into my skin. The pain converts into blinding pleasure. His strokes in me are slow and meaningful. This is passionate love-making. I arch my back and kiss all over his face, feeling his lips drawn up into a slippery slope of a smile. He catches my wandering lips, kissing me with love and fire between his smooth lips.

  I scratch his back, dragging my nails intently, eliciting a moan from his parted lips, reverberating inside of me. He lifts one of my legs, then hits my G-spot perfectly. I moan loudly, glad for the noise coming from outside. He fills me completely, soul, mind, body—and everything in between.

  The shadows of the dark room span across his face, making him out to be a dark angel entwining with a pure angel, but God, I don’t mind succumbing to his darkness. I welcome it with open arms. Let him consume me.

  Moaning, I push his shoulder and straddle him. I rotate my hips, savoring how good he feels in me, how warm his body is as he presses me to his chest. He pulls and pulls me, as if trying to converge with me, be so much more than this. And I press as hard as I can, feeling every inch of his body thrumming against mine. Heartbeat to heartbeat, blood pumping against blood—we are one, in every cliché way, but what I feel for him is much more than cliché. It’s just…more.

  “Fuck, I love you so much, but—”

  “But nothing,” I cut him off, tugging on his lower lip. He stares at me deeply. “Just love me.”

  He nods feverishly, covering my mouth with his. “Always…”

  “And forever,” I reply, my voice a mere whisper lost in the hurricane of my swimming adoration and commitment. I reach for the words on his back written for me, to remind me of how he feels about me, despite his hesitance to admit it. I clutch the words and grind my body against his, falling into a rhythm of euphoria.

  You are my middle ground, Princesa.

  I hold onto those words and kiss him. This is where I belong, where I will fight to hold onto for as long as I live.

  ***

  The next morning, I step through a field of landmines. Solo cups, store-bought sparkly confetti, puddles of alcohol, plastic liquor bottles—the whole nine yards. Is there no way for people to party without being a bunch of messy pigs?

  I got up about five in the morning and called TPC, asking to take a day off. I feel sluggish and tired, and I have to clean this mess of an apartment.

  I sip my orange juice as I collect and dump discarded napkins into a garbage bag. The pill that washes out any chance of reproduction travels down to the pit of my stomach. I gingerly swallow thickly and calmly place the glass in the sink. I wash my face to cool down a slight fever, take a few breaths, then get back to cleaning.

  Thirty minutes later, I stop cleaning up Solo cups when I hear a ringing. I pick up my phone from the counter and answer it, but the ringing still sounds. Furrowing my brows, I pay attention to the male voice speaking to me.

  “Hello?” I say, yawning into my hand. “I’m sorry, what?” It’s so early, and my body feels like I’m still asleep.

  “Hello, I’m Officer Daniel Fisher from the Miami State Department reporting that Dean Lorenzo’s sentencing has been decided.”

  His words fade in and out. “…he has been given a life sentence based on factual evidence and witness testimonies.”

  “He…life. Oh my God.” My voice cracks as tears stream down my face. My body freezes as I try to comprehend what he’s saying. Dean…the author of my pain for so many months…is going to be imprisoned for his horrendous crimes.

  “Yes…and the rest of his gang are being taken into custody as we speak,” he informs me, releasing a breathy sigh. Like he understands why I am so emotional. “You’re going to be given justice for that horrible night. I promise…”

  “I believe you.” I nod frantically and end the call.

  Wracked with too many emotions buzzing through me, I fall against the counter, then slide to the ground. I sob frantically, weeping so hard my body shakes. It’s finally happening. I jump to my feet and run to the bedroom where Grey is still sleeping, leaping over cups and napkins and colorful confetti. I rush into the room and jump on the bed.

  Grey is sitting up on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

  “The police in Florida just informed me that Dean was sentenced to life. There wasn’t any need for trial, thank God. I wouldn’t have been able to give my testimony. And I…” I sniffle and wipe away happy tears. “I just can’t believe it…hey.” I cup his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He’s staring at the sheets, a blank look on his face. I search his
face for what’s wrong, but he doesn’t speak. I urge and I urge and I urge, until I see his hand is clutching his phone. I bring his hand up and look at the contact: Vanderbilt Mental Institution. Is that where his mother is? Is there something wrong with her?

  “Grey, what’s wrong?”

  “My mother…she…she committed suicide.” He pauses, and a lone tear streams down his face. “And it’s all my fault.”

  Chapter Eight

  A week later, I come home to the same note but written on different colored Post-Its.

  Out training all day, fighting at night. - G.

  They’re all written sloppily, like he was dying to leave the apartment, leave me. But I don’t feel offended or upset he’s being distant because I expect it from him, have been for a week.

  When his mother died, he…changed. Her death took a toll on him in ways I’d never imagined. Prior to her death, he despised her. Never thought twice about hearing her explain what happened all those years ago, much less forgive her. But when she was found hanging in her room, something snapped in him. Not only her neck, but his curiosity for what she really had to say.

  I can still remember holding him as he silently cried. It was the worst kind of crying. He wasn’t sobbing or crying for his mother. He just sat there, staring at the wall blankly as tears rolled down his flushed face. I held him close and whispered sweet encouragement, but it didn’t seem like he really needed it. I didn’t know it then, but he had closed shop on Grey. Closed up and made sure to keep me out, not in.

  The funeral was even worse. He didn’t speak, eat, or drink the entire way to the funeral home. I tried my best to tell him that refraining from replenishing his body and not speak how he feels would slowly kill him, but he didn’t listen to me. Or he did and just chose to ignore me. Either way, he was killing himself in the process of grieving. I had to crush vitamins and force him to chug down even a little bit of water. Not even that saved him from paling and dark circles forming around his eyes.