“I’m sure it’s fine. You don’t exactly weigh a feather, you know.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I gasp and pause when placing another ornament. This one’s a miniature snow globe. I thought it was cute when we went shopping for decorations. He was just as grumpy as he is right now. He really doesn’t like this holiday. And knowing why, I get it. But I still want to do everything to make him comfortable and not have him do something that would displease his little Scrooge heart.
“Of course not,” he says. I frown and lean over. He smiles as I press my nose against his, clutching his cheeks. His tough exterior is cracked as I stick my tongue out and lick his bottom lip.
“You just…” he sighs and shrugs. “You know why I’m not exactly best friends with this holiday…” An image of him, sixteen, spending Christmas in a new state, bloodied and broken both physically and mentally, makes my heart ache.
“I know…” I have to distract him, even if it means I may have a little stain on my image of Christmas. I’d do anything for this man. Anything. “You feel like getting away tonight? I can finish decorating by myself. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”
“No, no, I don’t mind.” He smiles, but I know he doesn’t mean it.
“Put me down.” I straighten and wobble when he sets me on my feet. Light-headed, I twirl on my feet and place my hands on his chest, craning my neck back to look into his eyes. “I know I’m pushing it already with the tree and the pajamas.” I tug at my snowman print pajama, which I also bought for him as a matching set—he’ll never wear it—and he laughs. “So let me take you out tonight and make you forget a little. Like you did last night?” Images from last night flash through my mind, and I know they do for him too, because he smiles that crooked smile and narrows those dark eyes.
“All right…yeah.” He nods. “But where are we going?”
I take a deep breath and tilt my head. “Ever heard of a ‘kegger’?”
Chapter Forty-Two
The so-called “kegger” is just off of campus, in an empty lot. There are a lot of people, all dancing, with a massive bonfire cascading a soft orange glow across the lot. Beer kegs are everywhere I look. I’m both shocked and intrigued, finding people hand-standing over the kegs, downing the beer while people cheer them on and hold them up. I wonder why people do stupid things like this. Why not just stand up and drink? Why do they have to be upside down with all their blood rushing down to their faces?
“Hey, look, it’s the Douchebag Olympics,” Grey jokes and nods to a line of frat boys hanging upside down over kegs.
“Who do you think is going to get the gold?” I cross my arms and lean against him, watching as they are cheered on. “I have money on the one in the middle.”
“Mr. Chubs?” He chuckles and clicks his tongue in his cheek. “No, no, no—I’m going with the one on the left. More muscle means more strength. Meaning he won’t fall over so easily.”
“But more chub means he has more to prove,” I counter, feeling horrible the moment I say it. He’s laughing way too hard. I face him with a shake of my head. “Oh God. That was mean. I take it back.” Then I turn to the line-up of frat guys, cup my mouth, and scream, “I’m rooting for you, middle guy!” The muscled guys wearing snapbacks and tight coats holler at me but stop when Grey takes a single step forward, wrapping an arm around me.
“You came!” Jaimie runs over to us with a huge smile.
“Shhh, the fatty’s coming down.” Grey holds up a finger, and I move my attention to the guys. And sure enough, the middle guy’s arms are wobbling, like thin licorice shaking in the wind.
“You’ve got it, middle guy!” I cheer him on, pumping my fists in the air.
“What are you guys doing? Oh, betting on the fatty to go down?” Jaimie slings her arm over mine, so I’m squished between them both, like an ice cream sandwich.
“Stop it, guys!” I whine.
Julia walks up and glances up from her phone, looking at us with a perplexed expression. “What’s going—oh, yeah, ooh, fatty’s going down!” she hollers, laughing as I give her an attempt at an evil eye.
“Okay, that’s enough—oh, wait! He’s going down! No, no, no—stay up! I bet on you!”
We all watch him tumble to the ground. They holler while I hide my face in my hands. Jaimie playfully pinches my cheek, but I groan and sink into Grey’s chest. He laughs, and I can’t hold back my smile.
“You lost,” he gloats, and I roll my eyes.
“Congratulations,” I say bitterly.
“Oh, don’t be like that. Let’s get some alcohol in you, hmmm?” He nips at my nose, and I snort in laughter and push his shoulder back. “Where’s the cooler at?” he asks Jaimie, cupping my cheek, tipping my head back. He ignores my laugh, a smile dusting his lips.
“Over there.” Jaimie turns and points it out. “But take a look around. It won’t be hard finding alcohol. Weed, on the other hand—”
“Where the fuck is Tyler? I need my fixings,” Julia groans and drops her head against Jaimie’s shoulder.
“You really shouldn’t do drugs. The effects long term are—” I start.
“Have fun finding your weed guy,” Grey says with a nod, covering my mouth with his rough palm. I try and lick his palm to get him to let go, but he either likes it, being the freak he is, or doesn’t mind in general, because he weaves us through the crowds of keg-standers and dancing bodies with ease.
“Gross.” I make a face when we finally reach the cooler.
“Don’t be a baby,” he groans as he rummages through the cooler. A few seconds later, he pops back up with a pink wine cooler, strawberry flavored, for me, and a beer can for himself. I roll my eyes at him, open the drink, and start drinking. It tastes sweet; I like it, and I wonder how he knows me so well. He pops his beer open, takes a sip, and cocks his head with a smug smirk.
“We’ve done a lot of things where you can’t act all…innocent.” He winks.
I nearly choke on my drink. “Grey,” I whine lowly. “Do you have to be so…” I look around and whisper, “Dirty all the time?”
“It’s how you like it, bebé,” he rasps and takes a step toward me. I clam up and take another rushed swig. He laughs and digs in his pocket before popping a cigarette in his mouth. I raise an eyebrow and feel my heart bounce as he lights the stick. I really don’t like when he smokes. It’s horrible for his health, but that slips out of my mind when he takes a deep breath and exhales just before tipping my head back and placing his mouth over my open one.
My heart is beating beneath my tongue while smoke swirls atop. I breathe out quickly, feeling heated and weirdly aroused. I wrap my arms around his arms and arch my back as he cups my lower back. He breathes into my mouth, and smoke tendrils tickle my nose as it slides between our lips, swirls through our hair and into the open air. The kiss is sensual, and the smoke passing between us and clouding around us makes me feel incredibly…bad.
I slowly pull back and press my forehead against his, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I try to catch my breath but end up laughing and reveling in his. “What the heck was that?”
“Dirty,” he whispers, his voice low and raspy.
“Wow…” I whisper.
He laughs and pecks my lip before standing straight, taking a swig of his beer. “Let’s go, mi inocente pequeña princesa.” I crack a wide smile and giggle when he spins me, guiding me toward the people dancing. (My innocent little princess.)
“Wait, I promised you a good night, and I am giving you that.” I look around for a stronger drink. “Aha!” I grab a Vodka bottle and wiggle my eyebrows.
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not the best drinker.”
“Excuse you? I am the best of the best drinkers in the world.”
“Yeah, right,” he says, doubtful.
But he doesn’t say anything as I pour him and myself a drink in Solo cups on the table behind the cooler. I hand him a cup and hold mine up. We clink plastics, an
d he eyes me before I motion the cup to my mouth. He laughs and tips his head back, downing most of it. I widen my eyes and try to catch up. My throat burns, and I question why I did that. I nearly choke, and he laughs as I chuckle. I pour a little more, and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“I am an adult, Grey. Don’t look at me like that.”
“All right, all right.” He tips the cup back, and I do the same. That stung worse than the first time, and I don’t know why. I take swigs of my cooler drink, enjoying the way it fizzles on my tongue and makes my throat burn slightly. His smoke trails in the air and wafts gently as I pass through the thick clouds as we walk. Finding us smack dab in the middle of the dancing mob pit, he suddenly whirls around and wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his chest.
The music reverberates through me and makes my heart pump to the beat. I sling my free arm around his neck and drink using my other one. I glide my body against his and lock eyes with him. I feel…sexy with him staring at me like this. I have never danced with him before, and it feels just right and carnal, with him eyeing me, smoking a cigarette. It draws my attention to his lips. And all I want to do is stand on my tip-toes and taste his toxic lips and wash it down with this cooler.
“Spin for me, princesa,” he says coolly, his gaze slicing through me.
I do as I’m told and attempt to dance like those naughty girls in the movies. I sway my hips from side to side and revel in the fact that I can be so unlike myself. A few months ago, I would never even dream about drinking and dancing erotically against a guy. But now, now it’s my dream to be my utter raw self around him. I want to do bad things with him, to him.
“Well, if it isn’t the slut and her monster of a boyfriend,” a high-pitched voice drawls.
“Oh, come on.” Grey groans.
We both turn around and find Diana glaring at us, attempting to kill us with her striking blue eyes. She has her arms crossed over her busty chest that is practically on show with her tight, ripped shirt. Her eyes narrow, and she cocks a brow.
“Just leave us alone,” I ask nicely, taking a swig of my cooler, placing my hand over Grey’s as he inhales smoke, openly glaring at the devil with flaming red hair in front of us.
“After you punched me in my fucking nose?” she exclaims, pointing to her bruised nose. She clucks her tongue in her cheek and smirks. “Don’t you think it’d be unfair if I didn’t return the favor?”
“Touch my girl, and I will not hesitate to destroy you,” Grey threatens, hardening behind me.
“I’ve got this, Grey. It’s okay.” I turn and give him a warm smile. I finish my drink in a long swig and turn back around. “Listen, Diana, I don’t understand why you and I hate each other—” Boy, am I really tipsy. “I think we should hug it out and maybe go, you know, talk. No violence. No fighting.”
Literally, how much liquor was in that drink? Or maybe it was because of the straight vodka before…I should seriously stop going to parties.
“Babe, I don’t think—” Grey starts.
“Here’s this for ‘no fighting.’” Diana smiles sarcastically before raising her fist.
Grey pulls me back, but I feel a snap of energy and rage and the need to settle this tension between us, and I push him back and pivot on my feet. I grab her fist, drop the empty bottle, and throw my own fist across her jaw. Her head snaps back, and I lunge forward, tackling her to the ground.
A crowd instantly surrounds us and cheers me on. I feel horrible, but the rage overpowers me, and I find myself punching her over and over. I don’t know when, but I do know my fist meets the ground once or twice. She reaches up and tries to grab my hair, but I lean up and send my palm across her face.
“Is that Liv? Oh my God! Whoop her ass! Whoop her ass! Whoop her ass!” Jaimie shouts somewhere in the crowd.
I think I laugh like a maniac, like I’m having fun, and pick up her head and smash it back down on the dirt ground. She cries out in pain, and I holler a battle call, doing it over and over, then go back to punching her.
“That’s for planting that earring on him,” I grunt, then punch her. “That’s for trying to break us apart every chance you got,” I exclaim, then slap her. “And that’s just because you’re a meanie!” I slap her over and over with both hands.
“Okay, I think that’s enough, Ortiz.” I am suddenly lifted off of her. I think she passed out. Or I killed her…
“Oh my God, I killed her!” I screech and am rewarded with a crowd and the person holding me laughing.
“Trust me, she’s still alive.” Grey chuckles behind me, walking me away. People clap and cheer and tap Grey on the shoulder, but that trend instantly stops when he growls at them. “You got ’em good, princesa,” he whispers in my ear proudly before kissing my cheek.
“I did ’em good,” I say and nuzzle my face in his neck.
***
“I had more fun than I thought I would,” I admit as we enter the apartment.
“We can have more fun right now,” he says, his breath fanning across my neck.
“What are you—ah! Grey!” I scream as he grabs my waist and lifts me into the air. I lean down and collide my lips onto his, tasting the bittersweet taste of the beer on his lips and the cigarette stain on his tongue. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he groans, stepping back into the apartment. But he nearly trips and falls over something, I think one of my shoes.
“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. I laugh and trail a kiss down his sharp jaw.
“Clumsy much?” I tease. He growls at me, and I laugh and pepper kisses all over his face.
He stumbles and puts me down, searching for the light. As he does, I begin to take off my coat when I see a dark figure sitting in the living room. I let out a scream and tug on his arm. He looks at me, confused, before looking at where I’m staring. He quickly hits the lights.
A woman with heavy eye-bags and messy, curly hair smiles at me. But I think it’s aimed toward Grey. What the hell? Who is she?
I watch as his face literally drains of color, leaving a pale and shocked Grey. “Mom?” he croaks.
“Hey, baby.” She waves, and I freeze as she grins at us.
Chapter Forty-Three
I am frozen, my breaths hollow. I’m afraid to move an inch, because I don’t know what to do. I’m shocked. Beyond shocked, really. Neither of us ever expected to see her, just sitting in the dark, waiting for us to come home. She looks kind of shocked to see me, but that doesn’t falter her ear-grabbing smile. What is it with mothers breaking into his house? This is insane.
“Well, don’t just stand there.” She chuckles and nervously balls her hands to her chest. Her voice is soft, kind of rugged, though. Like she has a cold. I can hear her accent more; it’s thicker and clearer than Grey’s. “Give your mother a hug.” She opens her arms with hope etched into her slightly wrinkled face.
I look to Grey and hold my breath. He hasn’t moved any more than I have. And he still looks pale, like he’s seen a ghost. His hands are balled at his sides, and sweat gleams on his forehead. It looks like he’s burning from the inside out, and he’s going to explode.
“Get out.” His voice is so soft, so frail, that I almost don’t hear him or believe he even spoke at all.
“What?” She looks confused and rubs her elbows.
“I said…to get the fuck out!” He yells at the top of his lungs and huffs out, clutching his hands so hard, blood creases into his fingernails.
The air is still, and I can faintly hear his fuse break. Without saying another word, he storms off and slams a door shut behind him so hard, I think I hear it crack and a splinter shatter to the ground.
I flinch and gulp down a tennis ball-sized lump lodged in my throat. I don’t know if I should go after him or do something about the weeping woman in the living room. Of course I know. I turn to the hallway to run after him, but the woman crying out like a banshee stops me in my tracks for a moment.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she whimpers, wiping at
her big, black eyes. She looks at me like I’m supposed to help her somehow. But I don’t know if I can or if I even want to. She hurt Grey. And I don’t care if she’s his mother or not. No one hurts my man then thinks I will be on their side.
I just shake my head, not knowing what to say without blowing up on her. I run after Grey. All that matters right now is him. He must be feeling so overwhelmed. He was like a dormant volcano, much like my erratic mother. Built with so much tension, so many emotions, and he’s going to blow. He’s expected to. I mean, the woman he’s refused to speak to for five consecutive years just suddenly shows up in his apartment. Of course he’s going to be pissed. I would be too.
I find him sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking, head in his lap. His struggle to breathe snatches my breath away. I rush over to him and wrap my arms around his quaking body. His sobs and my soft words in an attempt to coax him fill the air.
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.” I press my lips to his temple and gently weave my fingers and tug at his dampen hair.
“What—is she doing here?” he croaks, hugging me so close to his body, I almost can’t breathe. But I’d give him my every breath if it helps him.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly, not knowing what else to say.
And then he breaks.
A switch is flipped.
He breaks free from my grasp and punches the wall. Over and over, screaming and cracking bones. I cringe and jump into action. I run over and try to pull him away, pleading and tearing up. My vision is blurred, and my heart is in my mouth.
“Stop! Grey, stop! You’re hurting yourself,” I scream, and he whirls around and closes his eyes. I choke on a sob as I watch him shake his fists as he moves his hands to his hair and grabs tightly.
He is completely broken. Her showing up cut open a wound it took five years to somewhat close. But she’s sliced a surgical knife through the barely stitched wound, and blood is pouring out like a volcanic explosion.
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