His eyes widen, and mine do the same. All at once, we know what’s going to happen next. All at once, my entire world shatters. All at once, the car explodes, throwing me back in the grass.
“LIV!”
“No!” I shout at the top of my lungs, reaching my hands for him. I sit up in the grass, but once I do and blink, tears falling down my cheeks like a gushing waterfall, I realize I’m not there. I’m not in danger. I’m in my bed, in my dorm room, at college. I’m safe, and I’m awake. It was just a bad dream. It’s always just a dream. But every time it’s like I’m there again. And every time I wish I could have just been in that damned car…
A constant buzzing noise yanks me out of my negative thoughts. Ruffling out my messy, curly hair, I let out a sigh before leaning over and picking up my phone. I let out a yawn and lean against the wall. I slide my thumb across the screen and find myself smiling, even though I try to hide it.
Grey: GOOD MORNING PRINCESS.
Olivia: It was until you texted.
Grey: Dream of me a lot?
I roll my eyes but sport a small smile.
I pull my eyes away from my phone, as hard as it was to do given the twirling in my stomach, and land them on the clock above the wall facing me. 5:50, it reads. As much as I want to chat with this rude—but surprisingly not that bad—boy, I do have to stick to my routine and shower.
I shoot him a text saying I’m going to the bathroom. I put the phone on the bed and quietly get up and grab my toiletry bag. I’m about to leave the room when a vibration sounds, muffled in my sheets. I look at the door and let out a sigh before picking up the phone. A gleeful chuckle breaches my lips.
Grey: Don’t think too much of me while in there or you’ll fall.
Olivia: Goodbye, Grey.
No matter how much I try, I can’t stop myself from smiling like an idiot while showering. I wonder how he’s doing this, making me lose my mind and think of him while doing something as intimate and essential as showering. Maybe he has a secret super power to lull unknowing girls to think of nothing but him, like a rude siren. Or maybe I’m just losing my sense of what I came here for.
At that thought, the smile drips off my face and swirls down the drain. I need to focus on my studies. I promised myself I would make my parents proud, and I’ll be damned if I let them down.
After I’m done showering, I get dressed in the pressed skirt and button-up shirt I chose the night before. I neatly place my hair in a bun, making sure there is not one stray hair, and swipe on lip balm. There is no need for anything else.
Before I attend my first class, I go to the coffeehouse and order a cup of black coffee, which does its job well and sparks me awake. While sitting near the window, I wish Mason could be here, but he has an important research assignment for his economics classes. Nonetheless, I sip the hot coffee and plan out all that I will study on the weekends.
The day is filled with my studies. I absorb every word the teachers tell me and note everything else down, copying the board down to its last detail. I plan to study these thorough notes when I get back in the dorm. Hopefully, Julia goes over to Jaimie’s—or wherever that girl lives—so there are no distractions. But knowing those two, I’ll most likely have to go to the library or the coffeehouse that closes at eleven.
After English, I attend the next, which is an elective: Photography. I’m not great at it, but it was either that or choosing between Accounting and Web Design. I’m not an adequate artist or remotely interested in computer coding, so web design was surely out. And though I exceed in mathematics, it’s not something I’d want to do professionally.
I let out a tiresome breath when the professor announces an assignment to capture several photos by next Monday, meaning I have six days to take photos that I will probably take in the wrong context. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try my hardest. I never do anything half-assed.
I’m leaving the class, on my way to Psychology, the last class of the day, when my mother texts me, asking how my studies are going. It sounds caring, but I know she just wants to make sure I’m on track, that I’m not letting anyone or anything get in the way of making her and Father proud.
I wish she would trust me enough to believe I wouldn’t ever let something or anyone block me from my dreams. But then again, she doesn’t believe in dreams. She feels they’re a tiny bump in the way of my planned, perfect life.
Tears prick at my eyes for an unknown reason, and I clutch my books tighter to my chest. I swipe them away and shake my head. “Keep it together, Olivia. Just keep it togeth—” I stop, prepping myself, before the classroom is in view. When I’m ready, I go on my way.
I feel my throat close and my heart stammer within my chest. Leaning against the brick wall next to the door is Grey with that Diana girl’s arms around his neck, her head thrown back. He’s smirking down at her with those black eyes taking in her pretty features.
Can’t he be a manwhore somewhere else? I snap in my mind.
I ignore the pang in my chest, take a deep breath, and continue walking. As I get closer, it’s as if he senses my anger or smells my tears, because he lifts his head and turns his attention to me. I must be seeing things because I swear he looks concerned, but it quickly fizzles away and is replaced by that signature smile of his. He whispers something in Diana’s ear, and I stop short as she pouts like a puppy, nods, and pushes away.
“See you later, Grey,” she purrs, waving as she walks backward. I feel my heart clench like it’s being gripped by a lion as I see him watch her walk away.
“Can you please move out of the way?” I ask politely, stopping in front of him.
He looks me up and down and gives me a wicked smile that represents everything bad. “Are you on your way to yet another job interview? If you keep it up, you might be able to score a robot boyfriend!” he mocks, gesturing to my presentable outfit.
I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Can you please get out of the way?” I repeat, taking another step forward, but he takes one back and stretches his arms out in the door frame. “There has to be a class today.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Princess,” he says, sporting a supposed sweet smile. But I see the malice behind it. “Natalie’s out sick: case of the shits.” He frowns and solemnly shakes his head with a disappointed click of his tongue.
I don’t believe him.
“Oh, really?” I play along with his ridiculous statement. He continues to appear sad, ruffling out his short dark brown hair while he huffs out a winded breath. “That’s so sad. I hope she gets better.” I really pull it off by frowning myself and putting a hand on my hip.
“It truly is a shame.” He sighs.
“We should go for some frozen yogurt. You know, to pay our respects,” I suggest.
Mischief practically makes a home in his glistening eyes. “I prefer ice cream, but you’re on the right track…” He plays into my insensitive words, like I knew he would, and pushes off the door. I glance at the door but turn and slowly walk a few paces away with him on my side. “You know, behind that pretentious bun of yours, there is a brilliant mind.”
My faux smile falters. I want to slap him for that hurtful comment on my professional hairstyle, but I keep my composure long enough so he’s not paying attention to my true motives.
Once he’s smiling like a cat that just nabbed catnip, I discreetly pivot on my feet and make a mad dash for the door as best as I can while in ballet flats. He curses for letting his guard down and chases after me, but I’m already at the classroom. Panting and clearly out of shape, I throw open the door and gasp.
Just as I expected, the class is full, and Ms. James is here teaching. That is until I rudely interrupted.
“Oh, wow. She must have a killer immune system,” Grey says, continuing with his lie even though he’s clearly been caught. As I expected he would.
“What a pleasure for you two to join us,” Ms. James says. “We missed you yesterday.”
I gasp again and feel my blood
boil like it’s been dropped in boiling water. “Yesterday?” I whip my head in Grey’s direction. He’s casually lounging against the door frame, picking his nails like he did nothing wrong. “You lied about yesterday too?”
“No. I merely avoided the truth and told you something completely different,” he proudly says, lifting his chin.
I slap his shoulder. “That’s the definition of lying!”
He shrugs, a lazy smile curving into his face. “Forgive me?”
I roll my eyes in absolute annoyance and quickly scramble to my seat. “I am so sorry, Ms. James. I didn’t mean to miss class yesterday. He told me there wasn’t any.” I point my finger at Grey, who is still leaning against the door without a care in the world.
I expect her to be infuriated for one student to manipulate another into missing her class, but she’s anything but that. She’s more…understanding, which bothers me on a whole other level.
“Is that true, Grey?” she asks with a sigh.
“I am afraid I can neither deny nor admit it.” He shrugs.
Her eyes rotate at his vague, irritating statement, and she curls her finger in a beckoning motion. “Just come inside.”
He coughs, taking a step back. “Sorry, but I think I’m coming down with what you had. I shouldn’t infect other students. That’d be cruel, and I am not a cruel person.”
Yeah, right.
She gives up on him and waves her hand, turning back to the chalkboard. “Close the door on your way out.”
I gape in astonishment. He made me miss class, which I have never ever done in my entire life, and now he’s leaving class without so much as a fight in protest. In what world is this truly acceptable? This world, I guess.
“Gotcha.” He winks at her. She rolls her eyes again and resumes talking. I’m stunned, trying to figure out what’s going on. Hearing a psst, I turn my head to the unbelievable boy. “I’ll catch you later, Princess.”
I open my mouth to quip back a response along the lines of “drive off a cliff,” but he deftly steps out, slamming the door after him. We all jump in our seats, and I wonder—truly wonder—how I could have possibly been stuck with him as a partner and apparent leech on my side. I stop quickly because my head may explode.
***
I make sure to get the work I missed yesterday. And when I apologized profusely for believing that snake-boy, she cut me off and said it’s okay, that she’s dealt with students with his behavior for years.
I read over the specific details in the handout about my assignment from photography while I walk back to my dorm. The day is kind of perfect, and so is the scenery; I’m sure I’ll be able to take a few good shots around here somewhere. The breeze is warm, and the birds chirping in the trees give off a tranquil vibe. If nothing else, I could study out here, on the grass.
“Hello there, Princess,” a familiar voice says. It sounds incredibly close, but no one is near me. I look between the clumps of tall frat guys walking past me when my eyes land on a dark figure leaning against a tall tree.
Grey.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I say, turning away. He’s put me off track enough. I don’t want to allow him to get in the way of anymore of my plans.
“Wait up!” A hand curls around my upper arm. Sparks jump off from the abrupt contact. I rip my arm away from him, ignoring the electric shock he conjured.
“Don’t touch me like that!” I snap.
He didn’t expect that. “What’s up with you?”
“You lied to me and made me miss a class. My most important class, at that!”
He has the audacity to act like it’s no big deal. “So?”
“So?” Is he serious right now? “Are you actually kidding me?” He gives me his answer when he shrugs. “I’m majoring in Psychology. I need as many credits as I can get, and I probably shot my goal for a perfect record when you did that!”
“Who cares about a perfect score?” He chuckles, but I am not amused one bit. “Seriously, you need to stop trying to perfect everything. It’s impossible, Princess.”
“I care, and do not call me that ever again!” I shout, louder than I intended. But maybe it’s how it’ll sink into that thick skull of his. “Just leave me alone—got it?” I whip around and stalk away from him.
I am so enraged I only see red. How dare he mess with something as important as this—my studies? It’s the only thing I’m supposed to focus on. Nothing else matters. Not his obsessive need to make me angry every chance he gets. Not the stupid feeling I get when he’s near. Nothing.
I’m about seven feet away when I feel electricity run through my arm and I’m spun around. I push against his chest; he’s frowning, partially confused and partially upset.
“Stop touching me!” I exclaim.
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think missing a class would make you go all Hulk.” I narrow my eyes. I don’t want to deal with his snarky sarcasm. Not right now. He rubs the back of his neck and lets out a breath. “Sorry for that, too. Just—fuck, let me make it up to you.”
I’m surprised he wants to do something nice. He seems to suddenly care about upsetting me, too much for this sudden switch.
“Like what?” I seethe, doubting he could do something without having anything to gain in return.
He holds my gaze for a long while, letting it ride up and down my body. “What’s that for?” he asks me, pointing at the assignment in my hand.
I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. A part of me feels like he’ll use this as a new way to irritate me like he normally does, but another part likes the effort he’s making to fix things. No matter how much he tries to make up for yesterday, he’ll never be able to scratch that mistake off my record. But I entertain him and show him the paper.
“I’m required to take photos of whatever inspires me by next Monday, for my photography class,” I inform him with a sigh.
He raises his hand and taps his chin while humming. “I can help you with this,” he says, snatching the paper from my hands.
“No—” I snatch the paper back and put a hand on my hip. “You can’t. Unless you know of any breathtaking scenery that holds true meaning.” I highly doubt he does.
He breaks out into a smile. “I do, but you have to trust me and keep it a secret.” He holds out a hand, and I view it as a futile attempt to deceive me like he did yesterday. I will not be falling for his malicious charm again.
“Problem is, I don’t trust you,” I tell him honestly.
“You don’t need to trust me fully. Who told you I was trustworthy? Whoever did, you call them now and you tell them to quit spewing dirty lies.”
“So I shouldn’t trust you to help me with this assignment?” I raise the paper, and he narrows his eyes, hands on his hips.
He pauses. “You obviously need to dial the person back. Now.”
I roll my eyes and tell him, “Listen, I’m not going to trust you after what you did yesterday.”
“But you had fun,” he exclaims.
“No part of yesterday was fun.” Thrilling, maybe. But not fun.
His coal eyes light with fire. “Oh, I’m sure you found one part fun.” Almost instantly, the memory of him bent over me against the pool table flashes across my mind, and I gulp and shake my head.
“Can’t say so,” I tell him, my voice firm.
But he doesn’t let up. He takes a slow step toward me. I watch cautiously as he depicts exactly what I initially pictured in my head.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it when I…” His words trail off as his eyes do the same down my body; I shift in my stance, feeling my heart thump harder, and attempt to scramble away but am glued to the ground. “Taught you how to play pool…”
“I didn’t,” I say, my voice trembling from the strange jitters running along my skin. What is he doing to me?
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
His lips quirk into a tiny smile with massive effects to my body. He backs off the tiniest bit, and I briefly find
myself wishing he’d come closer again, but I wave that silly thought away. It’s best if he’s farther away from me, because then I have a rational mind and he won’t be able to manipulate me so easily.
“But I really do want to help you, and I know I can.” He sucks his bottom lip in his mouth before releasing and sliding his tongue through them, his hand held out to me. “You just have to trust me…”
I chew on my bottom lip. Do I really trust him? My answer should be an instant no, but I find myself physically saying yes. You can blame my blind faith in every person or the butterflies in my chest screeching for me to trust and see where he takes me, but I reluctantly nod my head and say, “Yes. But I swear, if you do or say anything that makes me regret saying yes, I will tell Ms. James you’re impossible to work with and never talk to you again.”
He takes my hand I had plastered to my side and, with an admittedly charming smile, says, “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
Chapter Thirteen
A half hour into the car ride to God knows where, I begin to regret trusting him. The minute we drove past the campus gates, I knew he was taking me someplace completely unknown to me and most likely sketchy. Knowing Grey, we’re probably going to the arcade/pool playing area or a tattoo shop to scar our skins with regrets and tears, mostly mine. And I don’t want to go to either. But I tell myself to be patient. Maybe he knows a scenic area around here. He does know the town better than me—he’s attended the university for four years, after all.
The air in the closed space is warm, so I roll down the passenger window and slip off my ballet flats, considering how clean the floors are. I’m mildly surprised at that, given who he is. I thought he wouldn’t care much about the inside of his car considering his routine disheveled look. But I’m being mean. I should give him a chance. I bend down and take out a novel to pass the time as he drives: To Kill a Mockingbird.
With the brilliant words of Harper Lee, the cool breeze slipping through the cracked window, and the blurs of the growing number of trees, I lose myself in the serene moment. I crook a finger against my slightly ajar lips.
Grey: The Encounter (Spectrum Series Book 1) Page 9