So . . . That Happened

by Laci Maskell

  So . . . That Happened

  Laci Maskell

  Published by Laci Maskell at Smashwords

  Cover Design by Caedus Design Co.

  Copyright © Laci Maskell 2015

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights; you are not allowed to give, copy, scan, distribute, or sell this book to anyone else.

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  Any people or places are strictly fictional and not based on anything else, fictional or non-fictional.

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  Dedication

  For Leah, Brett, Kate, and Max. This book would not be possible if it weren’t for the four of you.

  Chapter One

  Conception

  Lux

  For a seventeen year old, I haven’t given much thought to how I would lose my virginity. I certainly never thought it would be at a party, with a guy I’m in love with, who barely knows I exist.

  But that’s where I find myself.

  It’s so cliché for the loner girl to love the most popular guy in school, but I can’t help myself. There is just something about Greyson. Something unknown. Something right under the surface. Something good, that makes sappy tools like me want to dig deep and be the one who uncovers it. But who am I kidding? Greyson will never talk to me, let alone let me in close enough to try.

  “What are you doing in here?” The sound of his voice shocks me, brings me out of my head.

  I look around Greyson’s room trying to find something to say to him, some plausible reason for him to find me in there.

  “Um . . . I was looking for the bathroom?” I say it as a question, hoping he won’t think I am an idiot. “Someone told me it was the second door on the right.”

  Greyson smiles at me, a pity smile, and says, “Second door on the left.”

  “Oh. My bad. I’ll just leave,” I say to him, wanting to flee from the room and end the embarrassment.

  I rush past him and am almost home free when he says, “Wait.”

  I close my eyes, take a deep calming breath, and turn back to him. Greyson Fletcher has never actually talked to me before. This could be it. This could be my chance to discover the real Greyson.

  He holds my gaze and says, “You’re Lux, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, a smile spreading on my lips. I can’t help it. The fact that Greyson Fletcher knows my name might possibly be the greatest achievement of my life. Achievement or not.

  How shallow am I?

  “I like your smile,” he says to me.

  This makes me smile even bigger, but then I get nervous and drop my gaze to the floor.

  “I saw you down there.” When I look confused as to where he is going with this, he says, “I saw you watching everyone.”

  Oh crap. He saw me. What do I do? Deny everything? Apologize profusely? Run from the room?

  Greyson laughs and says, “I’m not angry.” He looks away, then at his feet, then back at me. He looks sheepish, like he is embarrassed to say, “I want to know what you saw.”

  I cock an eyebrow. Confused. Greyson Fletcher is asking me for information. But what he is really asking me is who hates him. I could lie. I could tell him everyone loves him. Every guy wants to be him. Every girl wants to do him. But I’m nervous around him. He would see right through my lies.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask him.

  “Who hates me?”

  “A few people,” I say. Greyson’s facial expression doesn’t change. He must know people hate him. Or maybe he doesn’t care. “Most people hate your friends more than they hate you. Amelia has the fewest fans,” I say, taking a stab at his girlfriend, even though it is true.

  I know Greyson is the most popular guy in school, and Amelia is the most popular girl, but I still can’t understand how they are a couple. Other than being rich and popular, they have nothing in common. They fight all the time. And Amelia likes to cheat on him. Wait, I'm wrong, best couple ever.

  Greyson nods his head. He sits on his bed, lies back against the pillows, and puts his hands behind his head. He smiles this crooked smile then says, “What else?”

  My eyebrows knit together. Suddenly I’m not so comfortable discussing the feelings of others with him. But I’m weak and I don’t want Greyson to stop talking to me.

  I tell him about the girls who plan to use their graduation money to get breast implants or nose jobs. I tell him about who plans on taking whom to prom. Who came to the party just for the free booze. Who thinks who is hot but would never admit it. What priceless antiques of Greyson’s parents have already been broken. Who plans on stealing whose girlfriend or boyfriend.

  I find that Greyson and I are laughing together. He looks like he is genuinely having fun, not just putting on a face to get more information. I stop talking to study him. He has layers of brown hair that fall perfectly above his eyes. Dark blue, with a ring of green around the pupil. He is tall stretched out on his bed. When he stands he is even taller, towering over most of the student body. His muscles bulge through his taut shirt. He’s good looking and rich. He is everything you want in a boyfriend, a son, a quarterback, point guard. He is the poster boy for the perfect life.

  Greyson catches me staring at him, cocks his head, and says, “What?”

  I blink, once, twice, three times, before I say, “Nothing.”

  Greyson puzzles me. I know nothing about him other than he is rich and popular. That he is a senior and dates Amelia Carter. That he is a jerk to his peers but expects them to bow down to him. That he gets everything he wants. But yet, there is something deep inside me, a gut wrenching feeling, telling me that Greyson has the potential to be a decent person, even a good person. But this scares me.

  “I should go,” I tell him.

  This time I actually get a hand on the doorknob before he says, “No, wait.”

  I pause, but I don’t turn. I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to leave. “Isn’t someone waiting for you downstairs?” I ask him.

  “I doubt it,” he says.

  “What about Amelia?”

  “She’s not,” Greyson says from closer behind me. He’s gotten off the bed, walked toward me.

  “She’s not?” I ask. I’m so confused and intrigued that I almost turn around.

  “She’s not waiting for me. She’s not my girlfriend. She broke up with me at the beginning of the summer.”

  “Oh,” I say. I’m too shocked to say anything else. Too shocked to say I’m sorry. Too shocked to leave the room. But not surprised I would know nothing about the goings on of a group I am not a part of.

  “Oh,” Greyson says, almost deadpan, but with a hint of amusement.

  He is directly behind me now. He places his hands on my arms and leans close. I swallow hard. My breathing heavy. “Is there anyone waiting for you?” he whispers in my ear.

  I stop breathing for a second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds. Breathe you idiot.

  “No?” he whispers again. I can smell alcohol on his breath. This sobers me.

  I jerk from his hold and turn aro
und to face him. “What are you doing?”

  Greyson pulls back and says, “What does it look like I’m doing?” Then his tone turns defensive and he says, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “No. I’m not that type of girl,” I shout and yank the door open.

  “No. Stop,” Greyson says and grabs my wrist, pulling me back into the room. Stupidly I let him. “Don’t leave like this. I didn’t mean to upset you. I really didn’t. Look, I’m sorry. Please come back.”

  “I . . . I should really go.” Why do I keep letting him pull me back? Why am I so weak? Why do I let someone I don’t even know have such power over me?

  Greyson stares deep into my eyes. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

  “Why? Why me?” I can’t understand why for the third time, Greyson has asked me to stay with him. Before tonight he hasn’t once spoken to me, and now, now he can’t let me go. He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. That’s got to be it. I’m nothing more to him than a drunken escapade.

  “You’re different. You’re not like me. You’re an actual decent person.” He sounds genuine.

  “Yes. I am. And I’m a good person. But once you sober up, you’re either going to forget all about this or hate me, which effectively ruins my life.”

  Greyson smiles this sly, devil-may-care smile and says, “I’m not that drunk, Lux.”

  My heart skips a beat and I feel tingling in places I’ve never experienced before. Is this what it feels like to be in love? Or just turned on? At this point I don’t care. I just want him to kiss me.

  Where did that thought come from? Have I turned into a bimbo?

  Greyson takes my silence for compliance. He smiles and leans forward. My anticipation is so high I’m tempted to lean the rest of the way and kiss him first.

  He leans closer then stops and whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

  Again I want to ask him why me, or if he knows who I am, but I push that aside and decide, for once in my life, to live without restraint, to give in.

  I don’t say yes, fearing my voice will shake, I just nod my head. Greyson closes the gap between us and gently presses his lips to mine. A chill runs down my body. Goose bumps erupt on my skin. I can’t help but grab hold of him, wrapping my arms around his strong body. Greyson follows suit. Lifting me by my hips, he wraps my legs around his waist.

  With one hand holding me to him, Greyson uses the other to lock his bedroom door. The click of the lock jolts me, making me break the kiss. “Wow,” I say, out of breath.

  Greyson looks at me confused. “What?”

  “I don’t know. I just . . . I don’t know.”

  “Are you okay?” Greyson asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say, felling stupid. “Just kiss me.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but does as I say and kisses me, slowly, deeply. I feel amazing and full of passion. But I’m sure any girl who kissed Greyson would feel the same way.

  “No, wait.” I pull back again.

  Greyson chuckles. I feel like I should be offended, but it doesn’t feel like he is laughing at me. More like the situation.

  “I’m sorry. This is so stupid,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Me. I’m being ridiculous. Maybe I should just go.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  I take a deep breath and sigh, “No.”

  “So what’s wrong?” Greyson asks. He walks over to his bed and sets me down on it. Then he takes a seat in his chair. I can’t believe he is being so patient with me. He either is desperate for sex, or deep down he really is the guy I think he can be.

  “I don’t know if I can do this? Aren’t you in the least bit broken up about breaking up with Amelia?”

  “Do I look like I am?”

  “That’s the problem,” I say exasperatedly.

  “I’m confused,” Greyson says.

  “I just. . . I know this doesn’t mean anything to you. But it means something to me. And I don’t think, that if we do this, I’ll be able to just go back to the way it was, even though I know that’s what will happen.”

  “Lux, holy crap. You are, just, one of a kind. I can’t even believe I’m talking to you right now. You’re confusing the Hell out of me and I don’t even care. But I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me. We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

  “Okay,” I say, but I’m not sure which statement I am answering.

  Greyson smiles at me. He studies me. I feel vulnerable and have to look away.

  “Wow,” I hear him say.

  I’m curious and turn back to him. “What?”

  “You’re really pretty,” he says, his eyes narrowed.

  “You’re just saying that so you can get me in bed.”

  He raises an eyebrow and says, “If I was trying to get you in bed, I would have given up a long time ago. You are a lot of work.”

  I bark out laughter. I’m glad he knows I’m not easy.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, clearly he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t having that much fun down their anyway. Take all the time you need. Like I said, we don’t have to do anything.”

  “No. You know what? I don’t need any more time.”

  I expect Greyson to jump out of his chair and bum rush me, but he doesn’t. He does get out of his chair. And he does move to the bed. But he takes my face in his hands, and he looks at me, and he says, “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have anything to prove to me.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “No, pretty girl. You don’t.” He kisses me. Again it is slow and spirited. His lips taste like liberation. Liberation from a life of being a goody goody. Liberation from the fear that I will never be good enough.

  Greyson lays me back against the pillows, continuing to kiss me. He places one of his hands on my stomach. Heat radiates through the fabric of my tank top. He moves his hand under my tank top. I shiver as his fingers move over my skin. His lips leave mine and I miss them instantly. But then he pushes up my tank top with his hand and places his lips to my stomach. I gasp, not expecting such intense pleasure. Greyson moans, pleased with himself for inciting such a reaction from me. He runs his thumb under the hem of my skirt and applies pressure under my hip bone. It tickles and I laugh. He laughs too. He pulls my skirt down an inch, two. Looks back up at me.

  In that second, every ounce of stupidity in me leaves my body as I say, “I’m a virgin.” I clamp a hand over my mouth and one over my eyes. I want to die of humiliation.

  Greyson stops moving. I count to thirty. He still doesn’t move. I part the fingers of my hand covering my eyes and peek at him. He just smiles at me.

  “Do you still want to do this?” he asks me.

  “Yes.”

  Greyson pulls himself up to me. “I won’t hurt you,” he says and kisses me.

  I wrap my arm around the back of his head to hold him to me. He pushes my tank top up higher. When I hold my arms above my head he breaks our kiss and pulls it over my head. The rest of our clothes follow suit. Once he has protected us, I am ready to give myself to him.

  Greyson kisses me then pulls away, hovering over me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure,” I say, because I finally am. I run my hands over his shoulders and down his back. His muscles ripple his skin and he has those dimples over his butt that you see on hot guys in movies. I pull him to me so my breasts touch his chest.

  He breathes heavy and lowers his head. He whispers into my ear, “You are so beautiful,” then rocks into me.

  I feel a pressure and a dull ache, but it is replaced by pleasure so pure as he pulls back then thrusts forward again. If I knew sex would feel this good, I might have given more thought to how I would lose my virginity. And subsequent ventures after that.

  Greyson, on the other hand, clearly has experience and knows the pleasure of sex. He touches me and toys with my skin expertly. He bites the top of my shoulder. My ne
ck. My bottom lip. Noises that I thought only an animal could make escape me. I am in a state of bliss.

  Greyson

  I thrust forward. The condom snaps and recoils around me. I start to pull out, but it is too late.

  If she feels it, she doesn’t show it. I stop, caught between ecstasy and terror.

  I should tell her. I should definitely tell her. But I’m sure she is on the pill. She’s got to be on the pill, right? Aren’t all girls on the pill? And besides, I’ve had condoms break before and no child bearing occurred. What are the chances it will happen this time?

  But a deep seated panic sets in and I can no longer be in this room. I can no longer be with this girl.

  I stumble off the bed and scramble to find my clothes. My breathing is all over the place. My heart painfully slams against my ribs. My skin is cold. I miss her touch. I miss the heat of her body. I can feel her eyes on me. She knows something is off. She is still naked, lying on my bed. I glance back to her. She jerks and pulls the sheet over herself. I don’t blame her.

  What have I done? I just took the innocence of a girl I don’t even know, and I could have possibly just ruined both our lives.

  I have to get out of here.

  I rip my jeans on as quickly as I can. When I pull my shirt over my head I can hear her sniffling. Crap. I can’t handle this. If she says anything, asks what I am doing, yells at me, I may just lose my shit. I thrust my feet into my shoes and make for the door. With my palm on the handle, I turn back to her. This pretty, sweet, sensitive girl, with tears streaming down her face.

  I should have let her go. I should have let her leave. Not only the first time she tried, but the three times after that. Why didn’t I let her leave?

  She swallows back her tears, wipes them from her face. She replaces it with a look of anger. I told her I wouldn’t hurt her, and seconds after we did the thing she probably feared most, I’m walking out on her. I’m shit. I’m a worthless piece of shit. But I can’t be here right now.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. I lean against it. Close my eyes. I slam my palm against my head. How could I have been so stupid? “Stupid. Stupid.”

  “Greyson!” My name jolts me awake.