He is the same Grayson, but oh so different. He’s broader, his whole body oozes muscular masculinity, and the tight t-shirt shows off some pretty impressive guns. His arms are snaked with tattoos; they run up from his wrist and disappear up his sleeve. Adriana has to resist the urge to think about what he looks like without his shirt on. His forehead seems to be locked into a frown that casts a shadow over his whole face, making him look far more serious than the rebellious boy she’d talked and laughed with all those years ago. He is older, they both are, but it isn’t just in years. There is something about him she can’t quite put her finger on.
Grayson stares at her silently; the angry expression on his face has disappeared, but in its place is blankness. Of course, she thinks, he’s forgotten who I am. It makes perfect sense; they’d known each other a long time ago after all. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept that the man she has not been able to stop thinking about for close to a decade has no idea who she is.
Adriana takes a deep breath and sticks her hand out for him to shake, as if they were in a business meeting, not in the middle of a trendy nightclub. “Adriana, from back in Philly. You used to walk me home sometimes.” She helpfully supplies an explanation of who she is, feeling more embarrassed by the second.
Grayson’s expression is carefully unreadable, as he shakes her hand. She feels a jolt of recognition as soon as she touches him, the heat of him, reminding her of how he had made her feel a decade ago. She notices that all the women around her—and some of the men—have their attention trained on him. It’s not hard to see why. He’s like sex on a stick, and no one can take their eyes off of him. She feels like an idiot and breaks the shake, nervously tucking her long black hair behind her ear.
“Of course, Adriana Garza.” The way he says her name makes it sound like a song. “It’s good to see you.” He smiles at her politely, and she wonders if this distant politeness is actually worse than him not remembering her at all. “You look…”—he seems to be searching for the right word as his eyes travel over her—“…great!”
She wishes that her dress wasn’t quite so short or quite so figure hugging. Willow had picked it out for her shortly before making the point that in thirty years she would wish she could wear a dress like that. Now, she suddenly feels like the ugly duckling amongst the beautiful girls around them, drab and awkward next to their shining confidence.
“Thanks, so do you.” She wishes that her voice didn’t sound quite so husky, like she was having trouble breathing. It had only taken one look at him, and she was back to square one, which made her irrationally angry.
They stand awkwardly in silence for a little while until Adriana raises her now-empty drink and waves it in front of her. “Guess I should get another drink since I managed to spill the first one. Sorry about that.” She nods sheepishly towards the bottom of his t-shirt stained with her cocktail.
Grayson waves away her apology as if he’d barely noticed the fact that she’d probably just ruined what looked to be a seriously expensive shirt. “Let me get that for you.” He waves towards the barman who instantly makes his way over to them despite there being a whole heap of other people ahead of them. “A drink for the lady, cranberry and,”—Grayson playfully lifts up his t-shirt to sniff the damp patch—“vodka I’m guessing?” He throws her a smile.
Adriana blushes in spite of herself and nods her thanks to the barman. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. I should be buying as I’m the one who spilled my drink on you!”
Grayson shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotta head out soon anyway.” Adriana nods in understanding, hoping that she’s not the reason for his sudden swift exit. He looks around, anywhere but at her, and she wonders if her presence is making him uncomfortable. He probably has things to do; he probably has a girl who he was going to hooking up with and now Adriana has appeared out of nowhere to interrupt his night.
“So what brings you to Miami?” Grayson peels off a twenty from a wad of cash in his pocket, pushing it over to the barman, as he slides Adriana’s fresh drink over to her. “You on holiday?” He keeps looking around as if he’s checking out if there might be someone more interesting behind her.
“No, umm, I live here. I have pretty much since high school. I’m a nurse over at Mercy.” She takes a sip of her pink drink, hoping that it’ll help to calm her nerves. It isn’t just the surprise of seeing Grayson again or the effect that his physical presence has on her, it is the fact that all the feelings that she has worked so hard to bury have come bubbling up to the surface, leaving her feeling like that lost sixteen year old girl again. You’re a strong, independent woman, she reminds herself. You are not that sad little girl anymore. She stands up a little straighter at the thought of that and looks directly at Grayson, hoping to project something like confidence.
“A nurse, wow, that’s great.” Grayson nods in appreciation and looks her straight in the eyes before letting his gaze roam around the club again. “You like it?”
“Yeah, I mean it’s not exactly the most glamorous job in the world, but I love it. I’m in the Pedes ward—Pediatrics—and corny as it sounds it’s really rewarding to work with kids. It can be heartbreaking sometimes, when you lose one, but it just makes you want to try even harder to save as many as you can.” She closes her mouth abruptly; it’s more than she had meant to say. She’s usually uncomfortable talking about herself, but for some reason the words are just spilling out. Great, she thinks to herself, he asked you a three word question and you give him your life story.
“So, what have you been up to?” She takes another sip of her drink, as she tries to bat the focus back onto him. Fade into the background; it was the defense that her father had taught her.
Grayson looks a little uncomfortable suddenly, fidgeting with a cocktail napkin like he doesn’t really want to be there. “I’m, uh, I’m a fighter—MMA.” He doesn’t offer any further information, and he says the words a little apologetically, as if he thinks she might disapprove.
“So, it was you then.” The words are out of Adriana’s mouth before she realizes that she’s said them out loud rather than just in her mind.
Grayson throws her a questioning glance. “What was me?”
“I met one of your fans today. I patched up a kid in the hospital who had hurt himself trying out one of your moves. He showed me your flyer. You’re ‘The Punisher’ aren’t you?” Adriana asks the question although she already knows the answer.
“Guilty as charged,” Grayson ducks his head down in mock-acceptance. The lop-sided grin on his face is charming but hollow, nothing like his real smile. His moods seemed to change from charming to indifferent and back again in the space of a second. “So, I’m guessing you don’t watch any MMA?” He seems to find the idea amusing.
“That would be an accurate guess. I spend my time patching people up, watching them hurt each other would be kind of a contradiction.” She shrugs, as if there isn’t anything more to it than that and then wonders too late if she’s managed to offend him.
But Grayson just nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
“There you are! How long does it take you to get a drink, hot stuff? I thought in that dress, the bar-guy would’ve served you first!” Willow barrels in to Adriana, not even taking in Grayson standing next to her.
Adriana blushes, hoping that it’s too dark in the club for Grayson to see her embarrassment. “I was just catch up with an old—” Adriana stops short, not knowing how to describe Grayson, ‘friend’ seemed too presumptuous, ‘acquaintance’ too cold, ‘flame’ too mortifying.
But Willow saves the day, not letting Adriana flounder for long. “I’m Willow. Pleased to meet you…”
“Grayson, Adriana and I know each other from Philly.” He smiles charmingly at Willow, and Adriana has to stop herself from rolling her eyes as her friend almost melts into a puddle right there and then.
“You’ll stay for a drink, right? I want to hear all about how you and my beautifu
l best friend know each other. She hardly ever talks about people from back home.” Willow signals to the bartender for another drink, catching his attention effortlessly. Not for the first time, Adriana wishes that she had her friend’s easy confidence. Willow had told her it came from being born into money, ‘no’ wasn’t a word she had ever had to learn.
Adriana elbows her friend in the ribs, a little harder than strictly necessary. “That’s sweet of you Will, but I think Grayson was just leaving. I already held him up by spilling my drink on him. We don’t want to interrupt his night anymore.” The looks she throws Willow tells her that she’s not messing around, and her friend looks confused, surprised at Adriana’s sternness, but she keeps her mouth closed.
For a moment, Grayson almost looks disappointed. Adriana wonders how much of that has to do with the way Willow looks with her flaming red hair, statuesque build, and radiating self-belief. She and Willow were the polar opposite of each other, but she had never felt jealous of her friend until exactly this moment.
“Yeah, I should get going. Nice to meet you, Willow. Good to see you, Adriana.” Grayson looks like he’s about to say something else, but he just nods a goodbye at them both before turning abruptly on his heels and walking away. It only takes a few steps before the crowd swallows him up and Adriana loses sight of him.
She leans on the bar, feeling her legs shaking. How is it possible for him to have this effect on me, even after all these years?
“So are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?” Willow turns her attention back onto her friend. “Honey, you’re shaking. What’s the matter?” Willow’s eyes are wide with concern, as she puts her arm around her.
“You always said that if you ever got your hands on the guy that broke my heart you would rip his eyes out and feed them to him.” Adriana pushes herself up from the bar, forcing her legs to stop trembling. “Well, you just tried to buy him a drink.”
“Holy shit, Adrie. The guy you were in love with was Grayson Fletcher, the fighter?” Willow’s lipstick-painted mouth turns into a perfect ‘o.’
Adriana shoots her a suspicious look. “I thought you didn’t know who he was?”
“It took me a few seconds, but once he told me his name the pieces fell into place.” Willow shrugs like it’s no big deal, as she takes a sip of her martini.
“You watch mixed martial arts?” Adriana frowns at her willowy friend in disbelief.
“I faint at the sight of blood. Do you think I could watch that stuff without giving myself a concussion?” Willow shakes her head dismissively. “But he’s making his way up the ranks, he’s the next big thing, and it’s my business to know all the powerful players in Miami. I have to know who to invite to openings, who should be seen at the best clubs.”
“Oh, right.” Adriana nods her head dully; it all makes sense. The thrill that she’d felt at seeing Grayson has given way to embarrassment and then the flood of hurt that she had been hanging on to for years overpowers everything else. “Will, I think I’m going to go home.”
She expects Willow to fight her on this, like she does every time they go out and Adriana wants to leave before Willow is ready to. But Willow surprises her. “Sure, honey. Let’s get out of here. This place is dead anyway.”
Adriana looks at her friend doubtfully as the beautiful people continue to dance and flirt around them. “You stay, Will. Have fun. I’ll catch up with you in the morning; you can tell me about that guy whose face you were sucking a minute ago.” Adriana nods towards the corner where she’d seen Willow playing tonsil-hockey with a guy who she is sure is famous for something or other.
Willow smiles gratefully at her friend, but her tone is serious. “Brunch tomorrow and I want a full de-brief on Grayson Fletcher.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRAYSON
He drives faster than he should, but he’s geared up, agitated. His whole body feels like it’s buzzing. Adriana. The girl from a lifetime ago, the girl who still haunts his dreams. Suddenly, she was there in front of him. He still can’t quite get his brain to believe that it really was her.
She looked amazing, like she always did. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore; she was most definitely a woman and an impossibly beautiful one at that. Her big green eyes framed in long black lashes still made him feel as if she could see right down to his soul, like she saw every part of him. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
He’d almost forgotten how tiny and petite she was, how she made him want to protect her, pick her up, and hold her close to him. He’d had to look away from her, at anything else, to stop himself from reaching out to touch her, to sift the hair that he knew was like silk through his fingers, and to trace the line of her full rosebud lips.
She must have thought that he was an idiot, barely able to string a sentence together when he saw her. She’d introduced herself, as if he may not remember her. How could she know that she’d been with him all these years, reminding him of what he’d missed out on, what he’d run away from?
Seeing her had done something to him. He rubs his chest absently. Talking to her, being close to her again, had made him feel like his heart was beating faster or perhaps that it had stopped altogether. When he’d shook her hand, he hadn’t wanted to let go. That was dangerous, he’d known that instantly. She was dangerous to him and him to her. His past was going to catch up with him sooner or later, and when it did it wasn’t going to be pretty.
Besides, it’s too close to the fight. He can’t afford distractions, he doesn’t need them, and Adriana coming back into his life is one big fat distraction. What they’d shared had been a lifetime ago; he had been a different person then, a kid, they both were. It doesn’t mean anything anymore; they hadn’t even had sex for Christ’s sake, he reasons. However, if that’s all true, then why hasn’t he been able to stop thinking about her for the past ten years and why is he shaking like a nervous kid?
Man up, Fletcher, he tells himself. Stop being a pussy. She’s just a girl, a girl that in all likelihood you’re never going to see again. He ignores the dull ache that settles across his chest when he thinks about that and puts his foot down on the accelerator, driving faster away from her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ADRIANA
Adriana lies awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rattling of her ancient air conditioning unit. When she’d moved out of Willow’s amazing house and got her own apartment, she’d realized just how far her salary would go in the real world. The answer was—not all that far. That said, she loved that the place was hers and hers alone; it was her little oasis of calm. Willow hadn’t understood why she wanted a place of her own, but she’d respected Adriana’s decision, besides it wasn’t like she needed the rent money. Willow had even helped her paint the walls of her new place in bright blues and yellows, happy colors that reminded her of the photos that her father had shown her of Cuba.
Adriana used to wonder if that’s why her mother had left them, because Philadelphia hadn’t lived up to her expectations of what life in the US should have been. It wasn’t colorful or vibrant like Cuba had been. Not for the first time, Adriana thinks that her mom would have loved Miami. Perhaps she’s here, part of the immense Cuban community. Adriana doesn’t think all that much of her mother anymore. She doesn’t know enough about her to wonder what she’s like, what she’s doing, or why she had left her father and her when she was so young.
But tonight, it isn’t her mother who is on her mind; it is Grayson Fletcher, the man who kept her awake night after night, crying into her pillow. She’d resolved not to waste any more time thinking about him. She reasoned that since he’d left without a word, he didn’t deserve her tears. But here he was, ten years later, and the way that he made her feel hadn’t changed one bit. Just the thought of him makes her skin tingle. It’s like her whole body is more alive when she’s near him.
She replays their conversation in her head over and over, and each time she watches it unfold she feels m
ore embarrassed. First, she had been unable to speak, then she had suffered from verbal diarrhea, all the while he had been looking around, clearly wishing that he was somewhere else, wishing that she had spilled her drink on anyone but him. She’d put him out of her mind ten years ago, and she can do the same thing again now. But when she closes her eyes, all she sees is a boy with curly hair and a smile that makes her heart skip a beat.
CHAPTER NINE
GRAYSON
Not even four hours of sleep, and Grayson is feeling like crap as West runs him ragged on the beach.
“I told you, you rock up with a hangover, you’re gonna regret it!” West shouts over his shoulder, as he cycles ahead of Grayson.
“And like I told you, I don’t get a hangover from two freakin’ beers, West.” Grayson breathes hard, as he struggles to catch up with the bike, knowing that his coach is cycling hard to stay ahead of him.
Second Chance: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 4