“None of your business,” he says, letting out a sigh.
I’m boring him now?
“It is if it interrupted this project,” I say in a defensive tone.
He lifts his eyes from the comforter he’d been staring at and scoffs. “Fine, if you want to know so bad, here it is: Diana called and said she wanted to fuck, and you were boring me, so I left. And while I’m on an honesty streak, I came here because I was on my way to fuck her again and I needed a condom from a friend in this dorm. Happy?”
With each word that left his lips, I could literally feel my heart crack, inch by inch until there was nothing but a gaping hole. My mouth is ajar, and shallow breaths escape me in small gasps, but then I find my dignity, and I close my mouth and give him a curt nod.
Why the hell did that hurt so bad? Why did it affect me? Why do I care? I shouldn’t care. He’s a selfish, self-centered prick, and I want him as far from me as possible.
“Ecstatic.” Picking up the broken pieces of my heart, I stand and clear my throat. “I think you should leave. I’ll complete this assignment on my own. It seems I didn’t have a partner to begin with. After this, I don’t want to see you ever again.”
He stands with a nauseating smile on his face, his hands tucked into his black jeans. “I think you do.” He nods, eyes squinted. “And I think you want me here more than your mind cares to admit, because your body…” He hisses low, shaking his head lightly. “Your body’s telling me something different entirely.”
“No, I don’t.” My jaw is clenched, and my knuckles grow white from my death grip on the notebook.
He takes a step forward, and I freeze. “Oh, but you do. I mean, how can you explain the slow rise and fall of your chest?” I feel tingles crawl down my spine as his eyes darken, and that smile—that damn smile—curves deeper.
“It’s called breathing,” I say, keeping my voice frigid. What is he doing? Why can’t he just leave? “Grey, just leave—”
“And the pucker of your lips, and the rapid pace of your eyelashes flicking up and down, up and down…” He trails off, and before I know it, he’s standing in front of me, a hair away from my chest. The slow rise and fall of my chest. “And the redness of your cheeks…” My cheeks bloom brighter as my chest rises and falls faster. “And the amount of times you swallowed…like just now…” I swallow on command.
He raises a hand and cups my cheek; I close my eyes and melt all at once into his large, calloused hand. What is happening to me? It’s like my body is succumbing under a spell—his spell.
“Grey.” My voice is barely a whisper, a gentle whisper in the air, that is fizzing with electricity, sparks, and tension. I look up at the ceiling to avoid looking into those rare black eyes that will pull me under the currents of my sanity and yank at the chains of my dignity.
“Look at me,” he croons and, with a light sigh and the coaxing tug of his hand on my chin, I look into his eyes and feel myself surrender to his siren-like ways, allowing him to cast me under whatever spell he wants.
“And your eyes watching my lips.” He glances at my own, and I clamp down onto my lower lip with my teeth. A flash of a smug smile and the soft croons and whispers leaving his full and beautiful pink lips later, he’s in front of me and his lips are a shy inch away from mine. I’m standing on my toes, and he has an arm slung around me, crushing my body against his. Hard and firm and lean, I want to run my hands down his stomach and—
Wait.
How did I switch from telling him to get out to whispering his name like he’s my Prince Charming? If anything, he’s an assassin. An assassin assigned to cut out my heart.
As if my subconscious needed assistance, his ringing phone pierces the silent but bubbling air, and I push myself away from him. The action is a lot harder than I thought it would be. My legs are weak, and I briefly crave his arm around me, holding me up. But I mentally smack myself into thinking straight and cross my arms.
“You should go. I’m tired, and I have to be up in a few hours.” I clear my throat, slide my arm across my chest, and clamp my other hand on my mouth. It feels empty and on fire, desiring something unknown to me. The thought makes the look of darkness he grazes me with ten times worse. “I said to leave, Grey.” I try a more hostile approach.
He bites his lip and breaks out into a smile. “Heard you the first time, Princess.”
He leaves, and I lock the door after him. I lean against it for a long while, stunned. I don’t know what…that was, but it has my body hot and heavy and desperate for more.
I tell myself that it was just a manipulative move on his part to show me that he can distract me long enough to fall into his trap of deceit, just because he can. And trust me when I say I will not fall for it.
Chapter Fifteen
Red. I feel and look scorching red. I can feel his rough, large hand rubbing against my face, and his thumb gliding across my moist lips. His chest is wide, and his stomach is hard. Flush against my chest, I can feel my heart mirror his erratic song of thumping beats, like roaring thunder clapping one hundred miles per second. He’s so close to me. I’m putty in his hands, and I would do anything. Anything to feel him closer, so much closer—
“Are you going to drink that or just float in space?”
“What?” I question. I cough, a little embarrassed. I accidentally shake the cup and spill some coffee on my hand, drawing the attention of a couple sitting next to us. Us meaning Mason and me. He unknowingly caught me daydreaming about he-who-shall-not-be-named.
He looks at me with an amused expression as I tap my fingers against the warm cup of coffee that was heating my cheeks, triggering my ridiculous fantasy about a guy who admitted he was on his way to a booty call and decided to stop by my room on the way.
“Are you okay?” Mason asks. His voice is soft, and he hands me a napkin. I take it with blushed cheeks, and it isn’t because of the steam emitting from the coffee.
“Yes, I’m just…” I trail off, dabbing my hand with the napkin. Am I really saying this? I speak before I can think about it. “Grey came by last night, and we almost kissed. But before that, he admitted he was on his way to have sex with another girl, and I sound so pathetic, so I’ll stop talking.” I raise my coffee mug to my lips and take a long and loud sip. I think the longer I drink, the more time I have to not elaborate on what I just said.
“You two what?” Mason exclaims, getting attention from baristas and a girl next to us. He apologizes and swivels his gaze to me, eyes wide, unbelieving, his jaw dropped.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, absentmindedly pouring sugar in my coffee and swirling it around with a tiny red straw. I don’t even like sugar in my coffee; I just need to distract my mind before it shifts too many gears and I tell him every ridiculous thought running in my mind. Like, what does this mean between Grey and me? Why did I allow him to pull me under even after he said what his intentions were? And why am I texting him right now?
I didn’t realize I’d been pulling up his contact and texting him until Mason grabs my wrist, but it’s too late, because I hit send.
“What are you doing?” he whisper-yells. “Did you just text him?”
I look at the text and falter with my words. “I—I don’t know. I just looked down, and…there it is.”
He shakes his head and nods to the phone in my hand. “What did you text him?”
I shrug and read the text aloud. “Last night never happened. Can we meet one last time for our assignment?” I read something he texted back. It makes my skin crawl and my heart burst.
G told me about last night. HA! Try again doll xxx–D
“What assignment?” Mason’s words go in one ear, sounding like waves crashing into me as they go out the other. “Liv, are you okay?” He touches my hand.
“Some project assigned by our psychology professor, where we had to assess each other,” I tell him as I scramble to my feet. “I have to go find him. We still have a lot to go over.” My heart is beating out o
f my chest, and I look up and give him a trembling smile. “I’m so sorry I’m leaving, but I have to do this before Psych, and—”
“It’s okay,” he says, and I sigh in relief. “But I don’t think you should go. He’s a bad guy.”
“I can handle myself. I promise.”
He hesitates but sighs and nods. “Fine. But if he does anything or says anything bad to you—”
“You’ll duel for my dignity, I got it. See you later.” I lean over the table and peck his cheek. I wave before turning around and bolting through the door.
The freezing air smacking against my cheeks causes me to pull my cardigan tighter. I pull out my phone and debate calling him but decide against it, figuring Diana would most likely answer and taunt me some more. Why would he even tell her about it? Nothing really happened. So why am I so hurt right now?
Focus, Olivia, I tell myself. I have to think. Where would Grey be right now? Definitely not in class. I have a feeling the only class he attends is psychology, his only mission being to aggravate me. Maybe he’s at the arcade? If not, then I can kiss a good grade on this project goodbye. In my defense, she did give me the world’s most difficult partner.
I spot a bus stop and the bus itself riding up toward it down the block. I run to it as fast as I can in my flats, but when I get to it, I realize I don’t know the town whatsoever, or most importantly, where the arcade is. But I’m sure the bus driver can tell me where it is and what bus to take if it’s not the one coming now.
Once it stops in front of me and a few students climb off, I step in and ask the bus driver where the arcade is. He tells me it’s five stops away, and I breathe in relief and take one of the first seats.
I know I’m going to miss my first period, but there is something in me telling me I have to do this. Plus, if I tell my professor that I didn’t feel well and bring up how dedicated I am to pass his class, he’ll let it slide this time. I’m going to receive the work and notes I missed, but it still feels wrong to miss class. On purpose, at that. But it’s for the greater good, right?
I have no time to rethink my decision when the bus slows to a stop for the fifth time. I thank the bus driver and look both ways before crossing the street to the arcade. I enter and look around. The arcade is as empty as it was the first time I came here.
Clutching my backpack straps, I go down the steep steps to the pool room. Smoke fills my lungs, and I cough as I look around. The wonky mirrors reflect me, and I don’t like what I see. A girl running after a guy who almost manipulated her into giving up her first kiss, even though, moments before, he admitted he was on his way to have sex with another girl. I’m changing for the worse, and I can’t help but blame that boy in the corner with the obsidian eyes and matching biker boots.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he booms when he spots me.
He and I are the only ones down here. The fact creates knots of anxiety in my stomach.
“Where’s Diana?” My voice is small. I feel small.
His lips curl into a nasty snarl. “She left to get us some drinks, but you can wait and watch us fuck on the pool table if you want.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. “I don’t care about anything else but this project, Grey. You can have sex with anyone you’d like, as long as this is done.” I pull out the notebook and gesture between us. “Then we can be done too.”
Anger flashes across his hooded eyes. “Fine. Ask away but be quick. I don’t want you here just as much as you don’t want to be here.” His words sting more than I’d like, but I nod and steel my hands enough to hold the book open.
“Name a traumatizing event that occurred in your past,” I say, clicking the pen.
The sound of a ball sinking into a pocket makes me look up. He’s looking at me with flared nostrils and a mad look in his eyes.
“What kind of messed-up question is that?” he exclaims.
“Please answer the question,” I say through gritted teeth. I know it’s a touchy question, but it’s the kind of question that’s supposed to help me completely analyze him, which is what the assignment is about.
“When I got locked up for fighting,” he says, bending over the table to hit another ball. I watch as his jaw ticks, and I shake my head.
“That’s not the truth,” I say. “It may have happened, sure, but that can’t be the most traumatizing thing to have happened to you.”
He misses the shot and smacks the cue against the table. “Well, guess what, Princess? It was.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. Just answer the question!”
“When my fucking dad died, and my mother kicked me out. Okay? Is that good enough for you?” he growls. “But what about you, huh? Why don’t you spill every shitty thing that happened to you? Let me guess, you lost your award-winning horse for two minutes before your butler found it for you? Did you fall at a ballet recital? Wait, no. I have the perfect one. Your family got into a statistical car accident?”
“Shut up.” I can’t believe he’s bringing that up.
“Isn’t it fair, though? I mean, you want to bring up my past and shit. Why not talk about yours?” He shrugs with a sinister smile. “It must have been more traumatizing than I thought. You’re having those nightmares, those flashbacks every night, right? Don’t try to deny it, either. I saw it for myself.”
“Grey, please—” I sob, tears bubbling in my eyes and my heart quickening.
“But this is all for the project, partner.” His eyes are so cold. I want to shut him up. Hit him. He’s a horrible person. Why did I have to be the one stuck with him for this project? “So why don’t you answer the question, hmm? What event is most traumatizing for you?”
“Fuck you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. He’s panting with rage flaring between his eyes. “You may be the ‘middle ground,’ but I sure as hell don’t want to see you ever again. You are a terrible person, and for that I am sorry because you have to live with yourself.”
He doesn’t look fazed by my words.
My eyes sting with tears, and I grip the notebook before bolting out of the basement and arcade. The ride back to campus is filled with my silent tears and thoughts.
Mason was wrong. Grey isn’t a bad guy. He’s a bad person. There’s a big difference.
***
I arrived on time for my second class. Throughout the lesson, and those that followed, I was numb. And I’m sure I looked horrible when it came to my appearance. Dry tears and frizzy hair from the wind.
I’m on my way to Psychology when my phone rings. I sniffle and answer with a groggy: “Hello.”
There’s a chuckle, then Mason answering. “Someone doesn’t sound so happy. What happened between you and Grey?” The sound of his name makes me halt in my tracks.
“The usual—him being an ass,” I say, laughing even though there is nothing humorous whatsoever. “He—um—he brought up an accident that completely wrecked my life. He joked about it.” I chew into my lower lip and tap my foot because of all the emotions piling on me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mason exclaims, anger clear in his voice.
I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “No, no. He really did. But it’s okay because I’m going to turn in the project as is and explain everything to Ms. James. Maybe next time she’ll give me someone who isn’t a complete juvenile.” A smile trembles on my lips.
He pauses, and I frown. “It’s not okay for him to bring something like that up. You wanna get under his skin? Ask about Rose.”
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Just do it. I have to go, but I’ll come by your place tonight. We’ll watch one of your horrible favorite rom-com movies.”
A real smile appears on my face. “Okay. Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and take in the breeze wrapping around me, cooling my heated skin. Surely I can get through this last class. Afterwards I’m free to revel in the fact that I don’t have to see that wretched boy again, apart from the only class we share.
So, suckin
g in a deep breath, I plaster on a smile and head to class. I am the first to arrive. Ms. James is writing her name on the board, as usual. The sight of her makes what I am about to do ten times harder. I’ve never handed in an incomplete assignment. Ever. And the fact that it’s because of…him…kills me on the inside.
Nonetheless, I hold my faux grin and walk up and tap her shoulder. She turns around and peers at me above her cat-styled glasses.
“Yes, Ms. Westerfield?” she says.
“I am so sorry to inform you, but Grey and I weren’t able to complete the assignment.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
I falter but hold strong. “Our personalities collided one too many times. We weren’t able to work together, but I am able to give you this report I drew up.” I reach into my bag and give her the paper I typed. On it is all the information Grey gave me up until earlier today.
“That’s a shame.” She sighs and takes the paper. “I really thought you two would be compatible, despite the obvious differences.”
So did I…
“Maybe next time.” I smile and ignore the weight in my chest.
***
“Ms. Westerfield, may I speak with you?” Ms. James asks when class ends. I walk over to her desk, weaving through students filing out of the classroom.
“Yes, Ms. James?”
She looks up from a paper in her hands with a small smile. “I like what you did with this report. And although you didn’t get to complete it, I will give you both full credit and that opportunity you were asking about last week.”
My eyes widen. “Really?” I didn’t expect her to approve of the paper, much less give me the opportunity to be entered in the program. She nods, and I break out into a wide smile. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome,” she says. “I see a lot of potential in you.” I can’t help but blush. She reaches in a desk drawer and pulls out a paper. “Here is all of the information you need to know and the assignment you must complete for me to officially recommend you.”
Grey: The Encounter (Spectrum Series Book 1) Page 12