Grey_The Encounter

by Allison White

  “I’ll hand you the cellular device, on one condition.” He holds up a finger and bops my nose. I laugh and slap his hand away.

  “And what might that condition be?” I decide to entertain him.

  He pauses for dramatic effect. “You let me show you a world where your mother doesn’t give you mini panic attacks.”

  “She does not give me panic attacks. Mini or not.”

  He lifts my left hand and tugs at the hospital band around my wrist. “I think not.” I hesitate, formulating a response that would defend my mother, but I have nothing to say. He hums again with a smug smirk. “That’s what I thought.” He lowers his arm and brushes past me. I turn around and find him leaning against the wall, arms under his head, tattooed biceps flexing and dark hair falling over his forehead. “Now go and get ready. And please, don’t wear those hideous khaki pants. I want to be seen with a friend who actually knows how to dress cool.”

  ***

  “Couldn’t you have been at least a tiny bit more defiant?” he says, looking me from the corner of his eyes. “Like, maybe wear jeans that have a tint of shit brown, like the atrocities you are wearing right now?” His dark eyes take in my outfit of pressed khakis, a white cashmere sweater, and a pair of gray Toms. I turn my head from the window and flash him my teeth in a brazen smile.

  “I dress how I want to. Friends or not, you can’t control what I wear.”

  “Oh, yes I can.” He rummages in his jeans pocket before pulling out a lighter. “With this. One flick and boom!” He flicks open the tab. I gasp and lean over the center console to close it. His face is facing mine. The car has stopped. I want to wipe off his obnoxious but contagious smile. “Horrible wardrobe in flames.”

  “Then it’s a good thing this won’t be in your possession anymore,” I say and grab the lighter, scrambling out of the car. He shouts after me, and I let out a string of laughter as I watch him climb out with a scowl. It should scare me. Make me uneasy. But all it does is make me laugh. Even more when he pushes against me, reaching behind me for the lighter.

  “Give it back, Princess,” he gripes. I lean back, and he leans forward.

  “No. How about this: I give it back when you hand over my phone?” I suggest, raising my eyebrows.

  He lifts his mouth and shakes his head. “How about this: I wrestle you for my property and you don’t get your phone back.”

  “I don’t like that situation quite as much.” I playfully shake my head. He eyes me with those cool, black eyes of his but says nothing more. I wink and turn around, slipping the lighter in the front pocket of my pants. I find myself staring at a rusty sign labeled ‘Hardy’s Auto Shop.’ The H is hanging on by a thread.

  “I gotta get it fixed, I know. Hold off on your critiquing,” a rough voice says. I lower my gaze. A man that can’t be at least two inches taller and a few years older than me is smiling at me like I just announced he won the lottery. I take note of his navy, oil-splattered jumpsuit and tattoo of a dragon on the side of his neck. His reflective bald head shines under the intensity of the sun hanging above. He stuffs the dirty rag he was wiping his hands with in a pocket on his chest. “I’m guessing you’re Olivia?”

  “How’d you know?” I flick my eyes over to Grey, who is grumbling under his breath as he furiously rubs at the back of his neck. The notion is endearing in every way. And I begin to wonder how much I could mean to him, really, if he’s told two of his friends—I’m guessing this man is his friend—about me.

  I drag my eyes back over to the man, examining the spark in his eyes and his warm smile, contrasting drastically to his tough appearance.

  “Talks about you all the time.” He nudges Grey, ignoring his glare. He just laughs and turns to me, holding out a hand. I eye it hesitantly. He winces and apologizes. “Sorry, I just got finished oiling a car. Yours could get a tune up as well,” he says, nodding toward the car beside us.

  “Don’t worry about my ride,” Grey scoffs, crossing his arms. He looks at me. “And don’t believe anything this fucker says. She’s just a friend, so don’t go thinking all out of proportion.”

  “Hotter than any friend I’ve met,” the man says. “I’m Hardy, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hardy.” I smile.

  “Okay, I think that’s enough chit chat.” Grey steps forward and holds out his palm, curling his fingers. “We’ve gotta get going.”

  Hardy smirks at him but rummages in one of his pockets and drops a single key into his palm. “Have fun, kids. Don’t even think about fucking up my baby. If you do, remember I know where you live.” Hardy points a stubby finger at Grey, who grins from ear to ear and nods.

  “Got it.” He salutes his friend.

  Hardy rolls his eyes but holds a small smile. “Be careful with him, girly.” Hiding a smile, I fidget with my bracelet and nod. Casting Grey a smug, knowing look, he shifts his eyes to Grey before nodding back and turning around.

  The sky has set a darker shade in the short span we’ve been here.

  “So,” I draw out, spinning around.

  “Don’t start with me,” Grey warns, pointing a finger at me.

  “I wasn’t going to start anything,” I lie, holding up my hands in defense. I smile from ear to ear as I watch his dark eyes roll. A little laughter can’t help but escape me when he narrows his eyes at me and turns on his feet. He rounds the small building.

  “I hope you don’t plan on ditching me!” I call out. But then I think about how he would. His car is right behind me. I hear the growl of an engine and step back. A second later, a pair of headlights nearly blinds me. I hold up my hands and listen to the engine getting louder.

  I feel someone tap my forearm. Slowly dropping my arms, I come face to face with Grey. He’s sitting on a motorcycle, holding out a helmet.

  “Get on, Princess,” he says, more like a command.

  “I rather not,” I reply curtly.

  He rolls his eyes and pushes the smooth black helmet against my chest. “Stop being a pussy and get on.”

  “Excuse your language, and like I said—” I shove the helmet back at him. “I rather not.”

  He holds my gaze for a long while. “Fine. Have fun walking back to the dorms.” He dares to threaten me, knowing full well that I don’t know the town well enough to navigate back to the dorms. Especially since we seem to be a little farther out of town. He is so cruel if he really does leave me. I think he’s just playing and will tease me some more before coming to the conclusion that I will not get on that unstable thing and take me back to the dorms himself, via car.

  He does the opposite. He winks at me, pulls his feet off the ground, and takes off. Dust particles fly in the cold breeze.

  “Friends don’t leave other friends behind!” I call after him and watch him come to a stop, short of the empty road expanding both ways. His legs pop out, and he twists in the seat.

  “And friends don’t turn down their request for a relaxing night from bitching moms,” he says. “You have a choice, Princess. Stay here and maybe catch a ride with Hardy, or come with me, your ever-so-trustworthy friend. It’s all on you, babe.” From here, I can see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “I don’t like this,” I say as I climb on the back. I hesitantly take the helmet he offers me and clasp it onto my head after pulling my hair out of its ponytail. He takes the band and slips it onto his wrist. I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around his waist.

  I cannot believe I am doing this. Since when do I do things like this? Get onto the back of a motorcycle with a guy who’s proven to be cruel from time to time? I can’t remember when, but I let my wall down. My mission I had planned evaporated. The question is: Is he—this friendship—even worth it?

  “Hang on tight,” he instructs.

  I smile and interlock my fingers. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

  “Grey,” I whine. You’d think he would at least tell me that little detail
of this random night.

  His back muscles constrict when he ignites the bike to life. It lets out a monstrous growl, and I jolt forward in surprise when he takes off. The wind whips against my hair. I can feel my heart sink down to the lowest pit of my stomach. My fingers scrape against his stomach, so hard I think I’m cutting him. But he doesn’t sound like he’s in any pain. All that does leave his mouth are laughs of mockery at my expense. I should be screaming and calculating the rate of our possible crash.

  There are so many possibilities of us getting hurt. Of him…dying. Me dying. I should be thinking of all those tragic possibilities. But all I can think about in this very moment is how exhilarating this is.

  How perfectly I can hear his erratic heartbeat through the leather on his back. How I can hear mine from the hollow pit in my stomach. How I want him to go faster and take me away from my mother’s strict ways, and the pills, and the nightmares, and everything else that consumes my brain. I just want him to…take me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Shouldn’t you be slowing down?…I don’t think you can go through here…Grey! I swear if you get me killed, I will murder you from the other side!” are my warnings and threats for the past two minutes. He drove for half an hour after leaving Hardy’s, got us fast food, and is now riding through the forest he first brought me to take my pictures for photography class.

  “Relax, Princess. I’ve done this a million times,” he assures me, his voice breaking slightly as he dodges rocks and stones and logs, just barely by a few inches. “Don’t get your khakis in a twist.” With the incline of the hill, I think we are surely going to tip over and my body is going to be found with his, mangled between a boulder and a bush. We could have left the bike down by the entrance, but he just had to do this. At night. With the bare minimum of headlights.

  “Have you really?” I gulp and hold tighter, compressing a scream. He’d only make more fun of me.

  “To be honest? No.”

  “Grey, what the—”

  “I’m just kidding.” He laughs at me. Of course, he would joke about something like that. “We’re almost there anyway.”

  The bike slows, and I open my eyes for the first time. The sound of the bike grows quieter as he twists the key. I retract my legs and stand on the firm ground. Once again, I find myself in awe. It’s truly beautiful up here. I admire the white lights stretched across the town and campus. I tilt my head back. My eyes take in the bright stars against the black sky.

  “How did you find this place?” I glance down to find him looking at me. I avert my gaze for a brief second, startled by his hooded eyes.

  He shrugs. “I was bored one day…found myself out here.”

  “Right.” I nod, not fully believing him. But he’ll come around to telling me the truth soon enough. I’ve learned he takes time when it comes to the truth. “Want to tell me why I’m here now?”

  “Like I said,” he says, hopping onto the picnic table near the cliff. “Bitchy mom. Hospital stay. I don’t know about you, but I care for my friends enough to take them from a stressful situation.” He taps the wood next to him. “Sit with me?”

  “I don’t think it’s quite…sanitary.” I run my eyes over the wood darkened by rain and grown over with weeds around the legs. I bet if one of our hands puts pressure on it, it will fall apart. And considering how close it is to the edge, I don’t want to risk it. My life, specifically.

  “Fine, then stand.” He shrugs and drags his gaze out to the city. I look too, rubbing my arms. “At least take my jacket. I can be a dick sometimes, but not when it comes to hypothermia. Got it once and it was a bitch,” he says without looking at me.

  “How did you—?”

  “Your teeth clattering is annoyingly loud when everything else is quiet.” He finally shifts his gaze to mine. He nods beside him.

  I reluctantly walk over to the bench, standing in front of him as he shrugs off his jacket. My eyes trail over the various ink tattooed in his skin. They land on a particular tattoo that catches my attention. It’s a bird with its wings soaring up, claws searching for a landing it’ll never find.

  “What’s that?” I ask, touching the puffy chest of the tiny bird. He leans forward and drapes the large jacket over my shoulders.

  He looks down and shrugs. “A bird.”

  “I can see that.” I raise my brows with a smile. “I meant, why is it on your wrist?”

  “He was my first pet as a child,” he says. “I was into birds when I was younger.”

  “What was his name?” I ask, finding myself take the seat next to him. The table stays up.

  “Liv.” He slings his gaze at me. I nudge his knee with mine, and he nudges back.

  “Don’t be funny.”

  “Wasn’t trying, sweetheart.”

  “Stick with one nauseating nickname at a time,” I warn him.

  “Fine.” He smiles but tries to hide it by looking down. “His name was Levi. I fed him rogue worms and chased him around the house.”

  A laugh bursts out of my lips. “That’s so cute.” I wrap my arm around him, and he pushes it off and lays back.

  “Shut up,” he growls. “Can we talk about something else?” He tugs at the back of my sweater.

  I hesitantly sit back too, letting my hands lay on my stomach. “Fine…let’s talk about how Hardy knew me before I introduced myself.”

  “How did I know you’d bring that up?” he mumbles. “Listen, I don’t have many…friends, so when I start talking about a prude who’s caught my attention, they of course blow it out of proportion and act like you’re some prize trophy.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  He turns his head to face me. “What?”

  I turn my head and hide a smile but hold out a hiss, shaking my head. “You still think of me as a prude?”

  He tugs at my pants, and I shove his shoulder. He watches me, and I blush under his gaze. “The queen of prudes.”

  “Oh, that is such an honor.” I let a beat of silence develop around us. I take the time to listen to the chirps of crickets and the faint sounds of cars honking on the streets below. The air is still and quiet. This feels tranquil. Right. Like I was supposed to be doing this instead of studying my brains out in my dorm.

  But that’s silly. How could I be meant for something I’m not supposed to be a part of in the first place?

  I turn on my side and take in his contemplative expression: eyebrows pulled together, lips straight and chest rising and falling, rising and falling. “What are you thinking about right now?”

  “How much this fucking sucks,” he says.

  “Oh.” I thought this was great. Guess not.

  “Shit,” he curses and looks over at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I knew you’d like being up here, away from everything else down there. The other option was that fucking Glee karaoke club, but I just couldn’t do it. I hate that fucking show with a passion. I mean, what kind of school breaks out into song and dance out of nowhere?” His pissed-off expression brings out a deep laugh in me and sends it blasting through my mouth. His own lips quirk into a smile.

  “I’m being serious here. Take me seriously.” He gently pushes my shoulder, and I laugh more.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I let out a sigh and shrug, a smile curved around my words. “You’re just really passionate about it, that’s all.”

  “Because it’s fucking insane and impractical.” He lies back down and says, “My high school wasn’t like that. I’ll tell you that.”

  “Did you have many friends?”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head with a twisted expression. “Wasn’t really a popular guy, even when I was a kid,” he says, his voice hollow.

  “Why’s that? With your charm and talent to think of insults on the spot, I would have taken you for the cool kid.”

  “Ha-ha.” He laughs dryly and lets out a breath. “I guess kids don’t find it appealing when one of their classmates loses a dad…”

  “I understand,�
� I say after a pause of silence.

  He turns his head to the side. He looks confused before nodding with a slight tug of his lips. “Right. Your brother.”

  “Yeah…my brother. After he died, it just—everything turned to crap. My parents got really distant and worked constantly. So they hired a caretaker for when they were out of town, which was all the time really. But it was okay. Louise was great, still is to this day. I miss her a lot.”

  “People can be such assholes,” he huffs.

  “You’re telling me,” I mumble, feeling his eyes on me. I look up to find him staring at me. “What?”

  “You’re just agreeing with me,” he says, sitting up. “I want to hear you actually say it.”

  “Say what?” My laugh is uneasy.

  He takes my hands and pulls me up. “The truth.” I watch him hop off the table and walk close to the edge of the cliff. “That people are assholes!” He screams the last part. I put my hands over my ears and shake my head.

  “Watch your language,” I whisper.

  He looks back at me and laughs. “Are you serious? There is no one here, and the world needs to hear you scream. More specifically—curse. Get over here, Westerfield.”

  “No thank you, psychopath.”

  “Oh, so I guess you can get another ride back.” He lifts his eyebrows and harbors a smirk.

  “Stop threatening me like that,” I hiss at him. He rolls his eyes and runs over to me. Gently taking my wrists in his hands, he pulls me off the table and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Grey, you can’t make me say it.”

  “I can’t make you do anything. But what I can do is remind you that it gets pretty dark around here, and the signs are mostly knocked down and lost in the bushes. And in those bushes are snakes.” His voice is low near my ear. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I turn my head to the side.

  “You’re evil.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His teeth graze along my ear, and I swivel around and take a step back. I realize I’m too close to the edge at the last second. His arms shoot out and pull me into his chest. My heart beats against his chest. His smile spreads as I take a step forward, afraid to fall off, growing deeper in his embrace.