“And what point is that?” My words are frantic. I can still taste my heart beating against my tongue.
“You need counseling,” she says matter-of-factly. Are you sure I’m the one who needs counseling? I want to say this out loud but don’t, of course.
“No, I do not.”
“Yes, yes, you do. Your silly fear for something as trivial as cars, and flashbacks are holding you back from a greater good.” She sounds truly insane.
“Mother, I cannot control my mind and its fears.”
“You can with the right treatment.” She sighs and grips my chin, glancing at me with a worried expression. “Look at the bags under your eyes. How many hours do you get at night? Hmmm? Five? Four? Three?”
“I have to attend classes and study and complete extra-curricular work; I wouldn’t have any time for therapy sessions.”
Her eyes narrow and her lips purse as she descends into deep thought. I faulted her ridiculous plan. I am right, and I know she knows I am. But it’s not just that I don’t like counseling. I aspire to be a psychologist, but it doesn’t mean I want to be examined by one.
I loathe sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a stuffy room as some stranger pokes around in my mind and forces me to relive the greatest tragic event in my past. I’d rather eat my heart out.
“You’re studying psychology, meaning you have a professor who deals in the profession.”
My blood runs cold. “Meaning?” I know exactly where this is going, and I’m scared.
“I am going to set up some sessions for you to attend every Friday. It will be only an hour, so you’ll have plenty of time to complete homework and such.” Why can’t she understand that I am not a child? I am eighteen, not eight!
“Okay, Mother.” I force a grin. No matter how insubordinate my inner thoughts are, I’d never be able to voice them to her.
***
The rest of the day is spent studying due to her demand. She’s residing in a nearby hotel until tomorrow morning, when she leaves to go back to New York. I study each subject for two hours until I’ve memorized and created flash cards for present topics. I memorize and quiz myself for another hour each subject. I finish around ten at night and am exhausted.
I take the next thirty minutes folding and making space in both my dresser and my side of the closet for my new haul of clothes. I play Beethoven and sing a little song I learned in the second grade taught to remember Shakespeare’s sonnets as I put away the clothes. I iron a few shirts and khakis for the week then shine my dress shoes. It’s like my mother’s presence sparked a fire under my butt and reminded me of how I am supposed to act: proper and brilliant.
I am finishing up the last detail for my plan for the rest of the week when my phone buzzes across my desk table. I cap the pen, figuring it is pretty late and Mother wasn’t wrong when she inferred I don’t receive a lot of sleep, and unlock the screen. I grin.
Grey: Did someone call for some Grey in their life?
A second later, I hear a sharp sound at the window above my head. I stand and push open the window, just as he’s angling his hand back with a rock in hand.
“Don’t take my head off!” I tease, and he drops the rock and rubs his hands on his thighs.
He waves his hand and bows like a nobleman. “Milady tangled hair…girl thing.”
“Girl thing?” I tease.
“Shut up, I’m not as good as at sir—Shake.” He groans. What? Does he mean Shakespeare?
“Sure.”
“Anywho, what are you doing tonight other than looking fine as shit?” He winks at me, and I let out a giggle.
“Sleeping, which I plan to do right now…”
“Fuck that.” I frown, and he shrugs. “Let’s go have some fun. There’s this new karaoke place opening up downtown, and I thought you might like singing to Glee or some nerdy shit like that.”
“I’d love to…” I trail off. My mother’s strict lectures about making her proud pop up in my head, and the words die in my throat.
“Come on, live a little, Liv.” He chuckles like he’s the funniest person in the world. “Get it? Liv? Live?” I roll my eyes and smile at him, and he waves his hand. “Anyway, no matter how much you dress like my grandfather, you are still young. And do you know what young people have to do in order to live?”
“Get their education? Find a career? Build a 401K?” I suggest, but he shakes my words away with a wave of his hand and contorts his face in disgust.
“No. Have fun, you nerd. So come on down and let’s head out.”
“It’s the night before classes,” I remind him, biting my inner cheek. Just the thought of staying out all night makes me queasy.
“Must you always be a square? I see you have your hair down, just how I like it.” He winks. “Swing that shit over and pull me up.”
“No, Grey.” I laugh and shake my head. “And you owe me a box of hair ties!”
He raises his hands with a smirk splashed across his face. “Guilty.” I even spot one on his right wrist. He crosses his arms in an attempt to hide it, and I narrow my eyes at him while a smile itches my lips. “Come on down, Princess.” His smile is wide and warm and inviting.
I want to slip on a pair of shoes and run out in the dead of night and sing Glee karaoke and visit the pool table and finish what we started last night, but I can’t do any of that. I promised myself—my mother especially—that I would focus on my studies, and that…and that I would stop hanging out with Grey.
“I can’t.” My voice is low, and so are my eyes as I snatch them away from his.
“What’d you say? I may be super sexy, but I ain’t got super hearing.”
I want to smile, but I keep my face straight and tell him, louder, “I can’t…hang out with you anymore. My…I think you’re seriously damaging my plan of achieving what I came to college to achieve…You need to stay away from me.” I’m too scared to look in his eyes because of the deathly silence that follows close after I speak.
“Is that what you really want?” The unreadable tone in his voice makes me stiffen and tears to linger at bay in my eyes.
“Yes.” No.
I finally meet his gaze, and my heart splinters. His tongue is sliding across his lips while his eyes are narrowed, hands formed into fists at his sides.
“Well, all right then. I’ll see you around, Olivia.” That stings.
I open my mouth to call him back and tell him that I was joking, but he gives me his back before I can utter a single word. I feel a strong desire to race outside and stop him. A part of me has grown attached to him. And that part is dying watching him walk away without so much as a fight.
That night, I didn’t dream of the accident. I dreamt of something much worse. Something that had me writhing and calling out in my sleep. The sight of Grey walking away.
Chapter Twenty-One
I wasn’t able to sleep. Not for one second. Every time I tried to close my eyes and receive a few hours’ worth of sleep, I ended up seeing those black eyes ripping into me, then bolted awake. Julia still hadn’t come back yet, so I was in the desolate room by myself with my thoughts. And all I could think about was a certain boy who seemingly found a way into my heart and made camp inside of it.
I tried meditation, pacing the width of the room, taking a cold shower, and even watching the History Channel, that usually puts me to sleep. But to no avail, I was wide awake. It’s not like I’d want to be asleep anyway. With my routine nightmare and him joining it, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to function right throughout the day. But then again, I won’t be able to now that I haven’t gotten a lick of sleep. I groan in frustration as I watch the sun rise.
After grabbing my towel and toiletry bag, I head to the empty bathroom and shower in silence with my nagging thoughts. I keep thinking of Grey and how defeated he looked and how much I wanted to run after him but couldn’t. I have never defied my mother, and I know that if I had, she wouldn’t hesitate to blame Grey and go as far as pulling me out of univ
ersity. I can’t let her do that. As difficult and off-track for what I envisioned, I have been adapting well and grown to like the college and the lifestyle surrounding it. The bonfire last night only proved to me how normal I can have my life while here.
But do I really want a normal life without Grey in it…?
Over the past three weeks, I’ve taken quite a liking to the peculiar guy. He may be cold and brooding and very hurtful to me sometimes, but there is a hidden side of him I don’t think he shows other people. The side that would tie a sock around my head to help stop bleeding. The side that would help me with my photography project. The side that would show up at my window in the middle of the night, wanting to go sing karaoke.
It just sucks that I won’t be able to interact with that side, or the other nasty side, or any side of him at all. I want to go against my mother’s ridiculously over-protective wishes, but I know I don’t have it in me. I have always listened to her. I’ve frequently dressed the way she wanted me to dress, train with the best teachers—sometimes a whole day without breaks—and I have always listened to everything she tells me.
If I were to go against her now for a guy who’s broken my heart without even knowing it, including last night, I’d lose her trust and possibly her ability to place trust in me ever again. And I cannot have that. I need her approval; I crave it. It’s what keeps me going, because she is a tough woman to please.
When the shower is over, I walk back to my room and get dressed in my clothes I put out the night before: a long-sleeved light blue dress shirt, khaki pants, light blue Toms, shoes, and a baby blue headband after I makeshift my hair into a bun. As I smooth my hands over the sides, I make a note to myself to buy a pack of hair ties. I won’t be able to function with my hair blowing all willy nilly in the air and getting in the way of my eyesight. I swipe a single layer of Chapstick onto my lips and text Mason, asking if he wants to grab coffee before class. He texts back in agreement, and with a sigh and a freshly ironed mind focused on what I came here for, I leave with a smile plastered on my face.
***
“I am on my way to Psychology now, Mother,” I inform her as I walk. As promised, she left early this morning and called to check up on me like she told me she would. But a part of me knows this will only last for about a week before she gets swamped with work and is unable to call between saving lives. Or at least, that will be her excuse.
“Good girl,” she says, as if I’m a dog. I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Now, remember your first therapy session with Ms. James is this upcoming Friday.” I ball my unoccupied hand into a fist and nod. I really don’t want to go. Ms. James is my teacher, so it will be awkward having her ask me personal questions about my past and analyzing me. Why my mother doesn’t see it that way blows my mind.
“Yes, Mother. I’ve written it down in my planner,” I tell her.
She sounds pleased. “That’s good to hear. I want to hear every detail and her diagnosis and possibly a new and improved way to help you. I can’t have my bright daughter drained of her light.”
“I won’t be, Mother,” I say, toying with the strap of my sturdy backpack. “I promise I’ll be just as bright as you last saw me.”
“That is what I like to hear,” she says, and I hear shuffling. “I have to go now, but remember—”
“I will send you the photos of all of my finished works and notes from today—I know, Mother. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down,” I reassure her, even though she should already know I would do everything in my power to make her proud of me. I’m on a great track so far, and I don’t want to fall off or fail. I’d completely crumble into nothing if either one actually happened.
“Have fun, honey.” Her voice is cheery, and I relish in the rarity of her happiness. Father must have judged an important case recently. I’ll have to look it up on the news in New York.
I miss being home, but for now, I’m comfortable here. I think I may live here permanently after college. But knowing how controlling my mother is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she made an entire PowerPoint to convince me to stay in my home state, stating all the benefits. In reality, I know she’d just want to be able to control my every move if I stay close to her. But I don’t mind; she has good intentions.
“I will, Mother. Say hello to Father for me.” I hang up after we exchange quick goodbyes.
My father and I haven’t spoken to one another in the past month. Ever since the accident, he seems to have lost his voice and spark of life. Now, he barely utters two words together, unless he’s in the court, but even then, he gives passive looks feigning boredom or scorching scowls that go a long way. I make a note to text him later, asking how he’s doing. I worry about him sometimes. Especially since he lives alone with my mother and Louise, my mother especially.
Nearing the psychology building, I raise my eyes from the ground and feel my heart plummet to the floor, splattering blood on the concrete. My books clatter to the ground, landing on my heart, making it look like a pathetic pancake. I am suddenly frozen, unable to move. All I can do is watch the horrific scene before me.
By the door is Grey…making out with Diana. And they’re vicious. His hands roam her butt that’s covered in frayed denim shorts. Her hands grip his hair. He grabs her thighs and lifts her. The way their mouths connect and nip at each other sends a dagger to my heart. I want to turn away—hell!—I even want to run away, but I cannot get my feet to move. It’s like the nightmare where I am mired to the ground, unable to run and find help. Only, this time, I can’t run and calm my raging heart. She lets out a moan, and I finally snap out of my frozen state.
I rip my eyes away from the disgusting scene before me and bend to pick up my fallen books. My hands tremble, but I gather every book and stand. The minute my eyes gravitate toward the erotic couple, I feel my veins run ice cold. I know I pushed him away last night, which I only did to listen to my mother, and I know he can be with whoever he wants, Diana included, but does he really have to shove this in my face? I already feel guilty enough. I don’t need to see this on my way to class! I’m sure they could have easily done whatever they wanted in the back of his car.
A dark emotion of fury fills me, and I scowl and narrow my eyes at them, wishing I could shoot daggers from them. I don’t know why I’m angry; we never meant anything to each other. I need to get a grip on myself.
I soften my face and tug my lips up in a small smile. I continue walking to the classroom, feeling my heart skip a beat before falling back into place. I will not let him have any more of an effect on me than he already does. I stop in front of them and put a tapping foot out, squinting my eyes at them. When are they going to move? They’re going to make me late.
I clear my throat in annoyance.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Diana says crudely, facing me, bright red lipstick that seems to be her “signature” smearing her chin and his cheeks. He glances at me from behind her fiery red mane, and I tear my eyes away from his. I’m sure I gave off a pathetic longing look.
“And you can get some…pleasurable use out of it,” Grey says darkly.
I shudder at the disgusting thought and scrunch up my face. “No, thank you. I rather you get out of the way, so I can get inside. You may resume this afterward.”
“May resume?” Diana snorts as Grey kisses along her neck; I watch him with dark eyes and grinding teeth. “She sounds like my grandmother.”
“Ha!” He throws his head back, sliding his tongue across his lips, his eyes cold and passive. “I told her she looked like my grandfather.” His addition to her hurtful comment makes my face drop and a barely audible whimper leave my lips. He is so cruel. How could I have ever thought he was a good person? I’m glad my mother forbade me from seeing him ever again. I wouldn’t want to even if she hadn’t.
He cocks his head to the side and gives me his full, wicked attention; Diana glides her body against his chest and sucks on his neck from the other side, blocking her view. “Oh, I think I made th
e little girl cry. Are you going to cry right now? Huh?” He bats his thick eyelashes and lets out a nail-biting laugh. She throws her head back and cackles. They’re like the couple from hell.
“Screw you both,” I say with hurt dripping from my voice. I push through them as he puts her down. His growling laughter slips into my ears as I rush inside, falling to my knees, books flying across the floor. Tears bubble in my eyes as I scramble to pick them up before the rest of class files in. I rush over to my seat and put my head in my hands.
Why wasn’t I able to see how malicious he was before? With the manipulating, the crude remarks, his manwhore ways—they were all tell-tale signs for how bad he was, yet I ignored them all, believing there was something nicer under his hard exterior. I was dead wrong, obviously.
The rest of the class files into the room and settles in while Ms. James writes her name on the board. I feel numb with pure anger, mostly at myself, as I neatly place my name and date on an empty page in my notebook.
“Today, we will be discussing mental diseases that affect people’s day-to-day lives and how they can cope with them,” Ms. James announces, tone melancholy, as she turns around, pushing her glasses up her nose bridge. She opens her mouth to continue speaking when the door flies open and Grey casually strolls in as if the whole world should stop for him.
I think the whole world should fall on him.
I keep my gaze straight forward, hoping he doesn’t sit next to me. But since I have such horrible luck, he falls into the chair next to me. Ms. James continues her thought.
“Have an extra pen, Princess?” he whispers, leaning over and placing a hand on my desk.
I ignore him, clicking and unclicking my pen to keep my anger sated. He chuckles, riling me up successfully, and leans back in his seat. I watch from the corner of my eyes as he smirks. I want to knock it off his face. I suck in a deep breath and plaster on a small smile I learned from Mother and focus on Ms. James.
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