Grey_The Encounter

by Allison White

  He shrugs. “You intrigue me.”

  I look at him as if he gained another head. “How messed up are you?”

  “What do you mean?” Does he really not know how much he’s been messing up my life, my routine?

  “Are you kidding me?” I exclaim. “You’re mean to me. So damn mean. But it’s not just that. You switch from laughing and calling me princess to being a complete ass and telling me I’m worth nothing to you. I’m not equipped to deal with such erratic behavior, and I sure as hell don’t want to deal with it. Not when I’m supposed to be focusing on my studies.”

  He looks angry, but more at himself than me. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  I wait for him to say more. But he doesn’t.

  “That’s it? You’re sorry? Grey, you can’t just keep messing with my feelings like this!” I scream.

  “You have feelings for me?”

  “No! Of course not! Stop dodging my words!” My cheeks are hot, and so is my blood. He’s infuriating!

  He takes a step toward me. “You stop dodging mine.”

  “No!” I jab a finger at his chest and back up one step; he watches me with a look that makes my heart do a flip. “Don’t do that! I’m mad at you!”

  “I can tell.” He takes another step forward, and I take another back. “But I can also tell there’s a much bigger reason for your being upset.”

  “You told me I meant nothing, and now you’re looking at me as if I’m some delicious piece of meat!” I shout.

  “Shhh…” He puts a finger against my lips as he takes another step toward me. I take another backward and end up against the edge of my study desk. My heart is pounding dangerously against my chest, and my lips tremble for a split second. I am cornered by a vicious panther. And I’m right. I am a freaking piece of meat. “Why don’t you just admit your feelings for me?”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. “I hate you. You’re a crude, indecisive little man.” I look up at him with cold eyes.

  He laughs. “I’m nowhere little—trust me.” My cheeks find a burning source for heat. He picks me up and puts me on the desk before I can process what’s happening.

  “Oh, I think so,” I sputter.

  “Are you sure?” His hands are splayed against my hips. They burn through my thick sweater and lick against my heated skin.

  I don’t trust my words, so I nod. “Mm-hmmm.”

  He bites his lip and taps my nose. “I think you really mean the opposite.”

  “N-no, I don’t.” Dang it! Why did I speak? Now he knows I’m putty in his hands.

  He confirms my thought by smiling like the Cheshire Cat just discovered he won the lottery. “Oh, I think you do, Liv.”

  “Don’t call me that.” My voice is quivering, but my words remain firm. I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Why not?” He’s leaning in. I’m leaning back, but he grips my hips, and I let out a sound I wish I could take back. His lips are a hair away from mine, and his eyes are burning two holes into mine. “Because I make your heart hurt…?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? And how does he know that…? Not that it’s true or anything…

  I don’t know how, but I find my hands gripping his firm shoulders. “Don’t do this, Grey.” If he leans in one more inch…I will not be able to push him away. Because I’m positive I will pull him in. Ugh. The bipolar emotions he radiates onto me are driving me crazy. I’m supposed to be screaming at him and telling him to leave me alone. And yet, here I am, wondering what his lips pressed against mine would feel like. And against other things…

  No, Olivia. You need to control yourself and your ridiculous hormones. He’s just playing you!

  “Then stop me,” he whispers, his voice low and velvety, and I make that breathy sound again. He smirks, knowing what it is, though it’s unknown to me. This bastard. He knows I can’t and won’t stop him. He’s manipulating me. Again. And I can’t nor will I ever attempt to stop it. He has me in the palm of his hands, and he’ll do with me whatever he pleases. And I’m willingly letting him.

  “Grey…” I whisper, closing my eyes, bracing myself for what’s to come next. I’ve seen movies with Louise, of the main girl’s firework-worthy kiss and the pop of her leg. I know it’s supposed to be special and big and forever engraved in a girl’s brain.

  But none of that happens.

  All that does is the fire-meant-to-burn-down-a-village-worthy-nothing and the pop of my eyes.

  “What the hell is going on here?” my mother booms, slicing the tension with a machete.

  Chapter Twenty

  They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I’m not saying that I suddenly died on the spot, but it felt something like it. Piano lessons, her yelling at me to do better, and the accident—they all scrolled across my brain like a horror movie. I swear when I heard her voice, I felt my blood run cold. This must look terrible from her point of view. Her usually obedient and intelligent daughter propped up on a table with a boy in all black in front of her, a bare inch away from her lips. I must look like a total disappointment.

  “Mother!” I screech nervously, my voice shaking, eyes wide. I push at Grey’s chest, but he doesn’t budge.

  When I look into his eyes and at his upturned mouth, I feel panic. Not right now, please, NOT NOW! I practically scream using my eyes. He squints and grants me mercy, stepping back. I hop off the table and steel my fingers on the hem of my hoodie and tug it down.

  “W-what are you doing here?” I stutter.

  “I wanted to come by and make sure that you’re on track for school, since I’ve been so busy with the hospital. I tried calling you earlier, but you ignored my call.” Her blue eyes are burning bright with flames. She shifts her head to my right, and I clam up and pray he’s camouflaged into the wall. “Who the hell is this?” She steps inside the room, and I take a minimal step back.

  I discreetly glance at Grey, who is watching me with a worried expression. I widen my eyes and pray he doesn’t make her even angrier than she already is. He could tell her that he’s a robber who was trying to rob me and got caught in the act. But of course, he could never do as I request. He’s his own irritating, rebellious person.

  “This is Grey. Her boyfriend and I’m hoping soon-to-be fiancé.” He flashes her a grin and holds out his hand.

  She eyes his hand like it’s a serpent and tightens her claw—sorry—hand on her Prada handbag. “Excuse me?” The shrill in her voice makes me cringe, and I shoot a devious glare at him. “Olivia Renee Westerfield!”

  “He’s joking, Mother.” I nervously laugh but stop when I notice her intense scowl.

  “You mustn’t joke like that!” Her eyes shift over to Grey, and she reiterates, “Tell me who this…this punk is right now!”

  Grey chuckles mockingly. “Punk? What is this, the 80s?”

  “He’s a friend.” I nudge Grey, and he nudges me back.

  “I hardly think you could be friends with…him.” The way she’s looking at him as if he’s a barbarous cave man with a mission to take away my purity, and the way she said that makes my blood boil. I’ve never noticed how judgmental she is until now.

  “Well, I am,” I say and quickly backtrack. The fire in her eyes lick at my skin. “I think you should go, Grey,” I add quietly.

  He looks at me with an unreadable expression, and I plead with my eyes for him to not snap and say something rude to me. Not in front of my mother. If he does, she will swear to keep him away from me so I’m able to focus on school and make her proud, even if she lives hours away. She has her ways.

  He lets out a ragged breath. “I’ll see you around, Liv.” He offers me a wink and walks away. He makes a funny face behind my mother’s back, and I can’t help but laugh. Catching her glare, I quickly cover my mouth and watch him go out the door and close it after him.

  “I hope you won’t comply with his request, because you will not be seeing him ever again,” she snarls, balling her hands in fists at her side.

  �
��Why not? You can’t say who is and isn’t my friend,” I say, knitting my eyebrows together.

  She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Oh, yes I can. If they’re an obstacle in the way of your goals.” I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. “And Liv?” she scoffs and shakes her head. “Since when do you let people call you that? He’s worthy of the opportunity?”

  “He may be a bit eccentric, but he isn’t an obstacle. I have it under control, Mother.” Why am I defending Grey? She’s right. But I also can’t let her discredit him so much. A part of me cares for the confusing bastard. “And I think it’s time I let that silly rule go. It doesn’t faze me as much.”

  She scoffs and throws her hands in the air. “Oh, yes! Because having some punk between your legs is having it under control.”

  “It wasn’t what you thought!” Yes, it was. Well, not exactly what she thought. She probably thought I was letting him take advantage of me, but he wasn’t. Maybe, but not like she’s thinking at all!

  “Oh, really now?” She puts her hands on her hips. “And what exactly was it then?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m at a loss for words. How do I answer that and maintain what I’m preaching? There’s no way around the scene she walked in on.

  “I…I don’t know,” is all I can say.

  “That’s what I thought.” She saunters over to the door and locks it. Turning around, she narrows her eyes and says, “Now I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. Sit down.” She glances at my bed. I open my mouth to protest but comply when her nose flares. I take a big gulp and fiddle with a charm on my bracelet. “You are going to stop talking to that punk, and you are going to focus on your studies like we planned. I want to receive a call from you every single day, and I want a picture of completed or in progress class assignments.” I gasp. She’s taking this a bit far.

  “Mother, that sounds a little…well, insane.”

  She stops her pacing to gape at me. “I am trying to help you!” She smooths and pats her hands at the roots of her dark brown hair. Her eyes close, and I take the time to try to gather my thoughts. What she’s asking is absolutely insane and obsessive. But she always has been consistent with making sure I’m on track, education and everything else-wise. Maybe she’s right…

  She walks over to me, bends down, and grips my shoulders so hard I wince, but I hold her intense glare and sickly sweet smile.

  “Honey, I am your mother, and that means making sure you are kept on track for a great life. I am forced to make decisions as critical as this. It is not insane nor is it unethical. Think of it as…” She pauses and hums and shrugs. “An extreme aid in providing you with a lovely life, like your father and I are leading.” I’m not sure I want to live exactly like them anymore, but she does have a point.

  When I came here, I had a strict mission: to focus on my studies and my studies alone. I was supposed to keep to myself and my school work. And that was what I wanted to do too. But Grey…he came out of nowhere and ruined everything.

  But I’m not saying that I regret giving him the time of day. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I may slightly like him. And as much as I loathe agreeing with my mother and her ridiculous condition I’m supposed to abide by blindly because I am the obedient daughter, she’s right. He wasn’t supposed to be my main focus. But then again, you can’t see through a fog of surprise. Grey instantly blended in.

  “You’re right.” I let out a sigh and look into her eyes. “But can I call you twice a week instead?” Her maddening smile and nails digging into my skin makes me retract my request. “Sorry I asked, Mother…” I let my head hang as she unlatches her claws—hands—why do I keep making that mistake?

  She claps her hands together once and sits on the chair, pulling it in front of me.

  “About this living situation. Is your roommate up to standards? If not, I can have you in a condo that’s just five minutes away from here. You wanted to live like a ‘normal college student,’ but your education is of great importance, after all.”

  I glance at Julia’s unkempt bed and Jaimie’s shiny purple leggings hanging off the headboard. My family has more than enough money, and I know that she could have me living in a family house for educational purposes, but I don’t want to move out of the dorms. They’re nice, sometimes crazy, but they’re good people. If I can’t hang around Grey, then I want to still be able to have Jaimie and Julia, even if they can be a bit out there at times.

  “No, I’m okay in here. Thanks for offering, though.”

  She shakes her head and points a finger at me. “You are speaking improperly, and your slouch is giving me a headache.” She tips her head up with the tip of her perfectly manicured nail and reaches around me, pressing her palm into my back, making me sit up straight. “There you go, doll.” She raises her calculated trimmed eyebrows expectantly.

  I stretch my lips in an extremely painful smile that showcases my teeth, which took ten years to perfect and fixed to be immaculate. “I’m thankful for your insightful tips, Mother.”

  ***

  My mother left an hour later after telling me how college is. But before she left, she told me she wanted us to get a nutritious breakfast in the morning and then take me shopping for more adequate clothing. Apparently, my university sweater and jeans—which I only wore because all of my khaki pants were dirty and wrinkled—weren’t enough to satisfy her. I couldn’t help but agree with her. I want an endless supply of khakis and dress shirts, so I won’t be able to run out of them again.

  I got five hours of sleep before she knocked on my door and told me to get ready. I quickly complied and got ready in a long sleeve gray turtleneck and jeans. She scowled at my bottom choice again, but I assured her that I’m only wearing them because they’re all I have to wear. She allowed it for one last time and dragged me off campus.

  Since she and my father attended Penn State for their master’s degrees, they know the town pretty well. She took me to a cute café that offered food that I’ve been forced to eat that supposedly makes my bones and brain healthy. We sit at one of the small tables on the outside of the shop. It’s pleasant because of the cool breeze and the heater placed in the area temper each other, keeping us chilled but warm at the same time.

  I’m peacefully enjoying my bagel and cream cheese when she complains about spice being added to her egg whites, thus cracking the perfect atmosphere and souring my mood. She does have a talent for destroying serene moments, it seems.

  After breakfast, she takes me to Nordstrom and fills up our cart with pressed dress shirts, gray bottoms, thick black tights, and a large amount of khakis. I thank her even though I can’t help but think of Grey’s endless teasing about how I dress. But I don’t dare mention his name. She’d just lose her mind and flip out on me and go over the hour-long lecture she gave me last night. I don’t think I’d have it in me to hear her half-yell and half-condescending tone directed at me once more.

  I pack in the trunk-full of clothes when we reach the car. I am almost in the clear. I haven’t spoken much since this morning because she’s done most of the talking. She wouldn’t stop going on and on about the hospital and Father’s insubordination when it came to attending formal ball after ball tiring her out, and how she was thinking of renovating the beach house in Miami for summer. I reply with “oh, really?” and “uh-huh,” and she scoops them up and continues talking and tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she drives.

  “How is your attendance? Is it adequate?” she asks as she merges onto the highway.

  “Very. I formulated a route to head from class to class with ease and precision. I arrive within three minutes, and we are given seven. Sometimes I make it in two, if I speed walk, sometimes even jog,” I tell her, knowing she will be satisfied with my answer. Though I notice that students arrive late and the teacher doesn’t seem bothered or annoyed. But still, I like to be on time, even early, for classes. It makes me feel like a good student.

  S
he nods satisfactorily. “And your iron pills, are you taking them?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Then I am stumped.”

  I look at her and note her twisted red lips and pinched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugs and glances at me with a mild glare. “How has your mind been?” She looks back on the road, and her next words slice through me. “Have you been waking up in the middle of the night screaming?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with any—”

  “Are you still anxious about getting into cars?” Her knuckles turn ice white, and I gulp and flick my eyes between the road and her growing peculiar mood shift.

  “A little, but Mother—”

  She swerves the car like a madwoman, and I suck in a sharp breath and feel myself in that overturned car. Jonah’s holding my hand and calling my name, calling for help, but I can’t help him. I’m screaming and I’m calling for help, but no one can hear me. The car, in the present, swerves to the right side of the highway, and I hold up my hands and bounce against the dashboard. It comes to a grinding halt before it can hit the divider that separates the cars crossing the overpass and the street level below.

  “Mother!” I scream. My heart is in my throat, and tears well in my eyes. I whip my head in her direction; her teeth are bared and gritted, her grip on the wheel tighter than steel. “Why would you do that?” What is wrong with this woman? I know there was no animal or human crossing. She was driving normally one second and the next—I think I’m going to have a panic attack.

  “Mother!” I scream again, and this time it snaps her out of her dazed state. Her blue eyes burn into me as she glares at me.

  “To prove my point, honey.” Her words are velvet-soft and calm. I say nothing but look at her with wide eyes, questioning if she’s lost her mind. She looks into the mirror in the middle of the car, wipes at the corner of her lips, then pulls back onto the highway, like nothing insane just happened.