Grey: The Encounter (Spectrum Series Book 1)

by Allison White

  I’ve been trying to keep myself busy all week, but all I could think about was Grey, as much as I tried not to. He’s become a stain on my conscience. And no matter how much I scrub and scrub, he will not go away.

  I am turning the corner to the Psych building when I bump into a person. “Hey, you ran out on me Monday. What happened?” I look up and find Sam regarding me with a frown. His hair is ruffled, and he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and faded blue jeans and red sneakers. I bet he always looks this good without even trying.

  “I didn’t feel too well…sorry.” I push a lock of my hair behind my ear and pinch my eyebrows together. “Do you even go to this college?” I have been wondering about this since the party. I haven’t seen him around, though there are about sixty-thousand students on campus, but he did just come out of nowhere. Plus, he isn’t wearing a backpack and doesn’t have any books in his hands.

  “Nope,” he says, stuffing his hands in his blue jeans. “I just wanted to stop by and say hey to Grey.” I don’t entirely believe him…but why would he lie? I mean, who would intentionally want to say hey to Grey?

  “Seems like Grey didn’t want to say hey to you.” I look around, biting my tongue before I rant about his friend.

  “Grey’s a complicated fella,” he says, and I shift my gaze to his. He’s smiling with a tilt of his head, his eyes zoned in on me. I nervously shift my weight on each foot. “Anyway, mind giving him this when you see him?” He hands me a card that has a phone number scribbled on it. I cautiously take it and wonder why Grey doesn’t already have his number. Maybe he lost it?

  “Why didn’t you just give it to him at the party?” I ask, looking into his dazzling blue eyes. Two dimples poke deeply into his cheeks when his lips turn upright into a smile.

  He mindlessly scratches under his chin. “I was pretty busy entertaining a certain pussycat.” He pulls his lower lip into his mouth, and I feel my cheeks heat. I look away and clear my throat. Geez, this guy practically oozes charm.

  “Hate to tell you, but I highly doubt I’ll be seeing him again,” I tell him but tuck the card in my pants pocket. “You’d have a better shot at giving it to him.”

  “I have faith in you.” His words are vague while his eyes tell a larger story I can’t quite decipher. “Why aren’t you two all buddy-buddy? I know I came in late, but I can sense the tension between you two a mile away. What happened?” He looks truly curious, but I don’t feel like going into detail of what happened. I’ll most likely just end up in tears. Tears that I have successfully held back all week long and refuse to shed in front of a guy I barely know.

  “Let’s just say I learned my lesson and won’t get involved with him any time soon,” I tell him, offering him a ghost of a smile.

  “What a shame,” he says vaguely, squinting his eyes.

  “Sure is.” A smile tugs at my lips as if he yanked it out of me. “Anyway, I have to get to class, but I’ll give him this if I see him,” I promise. A large part of me hopes he switched his class, too guilty to see me there, but I highly doubt that too. He likes to hurt me, and seeing him every day—even if I don’t talk to him—would impair me greatly.

  “Thanks, Liv.” He nods at me with a smile, and I give him one back before walking away.

  ***

  I have the room to myself since Julia and Jaimie are out on a date. I can’t help but feel a little jealous of their relationship. They communicate well and get along even better. They’re like peanut butter and jelly. Julia doesn’t often fall into a redhead’s bed and leave Jaimie thinking they can actually be something more, something great even. I wish I could find a guy who won’t lie to me, but don’t they all?

  A loud sigh leaves my mouth as I move on to the next subject—History. Thinking about this research paper that has to be fifteen pages long physically hurts my brain. I’ve been going at it, completing assignments from all classes, back-to-back. I think I need a break. My wish is granted when my phone ringtone sounds, muffled under the small mound of bedsheets.

  I put my textbook down and snatch my phone. Answering it, I lean my head against the wall behind me and rub my nose bridge.

  “Hello?” My voice is groggy.

  “How’s the study session going?” Mason asks, amusement clear in his voice.

  “What century are we in again?” I joke, lazily pulling my lips into a smile.

  “That bad, huh?” He chuckles at my expense.

  “Did Genghis Khan use plague-infected bodies as bio-warfare?” I use an analogy from the lesson we brushed up on today in class.

  There’s a slight pause.

  “Yes?” he answers uncertainly.

  I raise my head and gasp dramatically. “How did you not know that? I learned that in the eighth grade, dude.” I nudge the textbook farther away using my foot. Talking to Mason is more interesting. “How did you ever pass without knowing that?”

  “I was a smart kid, and I still am,” he defends and adds, “and I might have been absent that day. But even if I were there, I don’t think I would have liked it, anyway. Did he really throw bodies using a catapult?”

  “Oh, yeah. Even though it was evil and a horrible of a thing to do, it was pretty damn genius. Because the bodies were now in the town, the disease would spread and infect the townspeople, killing them in a long, torturous death. Hell of a lot more painful than getting hit with arrows or hacked with an ax,” I tell him while playing with the ends of my hair.

  There is another pause.

  “You are sick,” he says, horrified.

  I laugh and shrug. “I’m just stating facts.”

  He replies, but I don’t hear him over my phone letting out its chiming ringtone. I pull the phone back and frown at the Unknown Number on the screen. I would normally ignore it and continue talking to Mason, but something feels off. I get the sense that I have to take it.

  “Hey, I’ll call you back, okay?” I say to Mason.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. Do I sound troubled?

  “Nothing…I hope.” I glance at the persistent caller and add, “I promise I’ll call you right back.”

  “You better.”

  I hang up our call and answer the unknown caller. “Hello?” I sound and feel hesitant.

  “Olivia? Is this you? I swear if he gave me the wrong fucking number again, I’ll—”

  “David?” I inquire, instantly placing his gruff voice. He’s Grey’s friend, but why is he calling me?

  “Yeah, yeah—it’s me,” he confirms.

  I pause for a moment. “Sorry if I sound rude, but why are you calling me?”

  “Grey,” he says with a sigh. I clam up and feel my heart stutter. Why is he calling about Grey? If he’s looking for him like Sam is, then it’s too bad, because I don’t know where he is, nor do I wish to know.

  “What about him? He and I aren’t on the best footing right now,” I inform him, hoping to correct him on whatever he thinks I can do to help with that jerk.

  “I know that—that’s kind of the reason he’s lost his shit—but I need your help,” he says.

  “Help with what?” I ask. What does he think I can do?

  “Helping Grey,” he says, and I scoff. “Listen, before you outright say no, listen to me. This entire week, he has been miserable. He’s been fighting twice as much, more of an asshole, and drinking and smoking more, and—I think it’s because he’s been missing you.”

  I have to stop him right there.

  “Missing me? I doubt that,” I scoff and shake my head. “Yeah, right. I bet he’s under a girl right now, leaving no time for him to miss me.”

  “But you two did have something, am I right?”

  I pause for some reason. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means that deep down you care for him, and I need your help. He needs your help.”

  “Why can’t you help him?” Am I really considering helping this guy? The very guy who fractured me entirely? “And what exactly does he need help with, a
nyway?”

  “Because I’m tied up at the gym. There’s a boxing match about to start any second, and I’ll be damned if I leave these fuckers alone in my gym. And…he needs help from himself. Please, you have to do this for me.”

  “How did you even get my number?” I ask him, avoiding the situation at hand. I hate that I’m really thinking of helping him. I should end this call and get back to Mason, someone who would never hurt me.

  “He texted it to me,” he says and sighs. “Are you going to help?”

  This is the part where I say, hell no! and hang up with a satisfied smile, knowing that I don’t have to deal with him any longer. I should press end and continue studying the rise of the Mongolian empire while chatting with Mason. I shouldn’t care about Grey. I shouldn’t even be thinking about helping him. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but grumble a “yes” and end the call as he texts me the address.

  Half an hour, after taking a few buses, following the directions according to Google Maps, I am walking up the street in the dark. And I’m not exactly in the best part of town. I swear if something happens to me while I am on my way to save this asshole, I will not hesitate to kill him.

  I shiver and feel my teeth chatter in the cool November wind, rubbing my arms to create heat, but it doesn’t help one bit.

  When my phone pings, signaling my arrival at the mystery place, I turn my head and feel my heart drop. A bar. Why am I not surprised?

  “And here I thought I was over you,” I mumble to myself, staring up at the bar’s neon sign as I walk up to the entrance.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I enter the bar on high alert. I don’t plan on staying long. I’ll just grab Grey and go. But how will I get him back to the dorms or, more preferably, where he lives? I don’t know where that is, and I don’t exactly feel comfortable with letting him sleep in my bed with me. Plus, I only have enough money for one person’s bus ride back to campus. I wish David told me where Grey lives before his phone died, so I wouldn’t have to worry about what to do. And I haven’t even thought about how drunk he will be, more like how aggressive he will be. He already is by default, but with alcohol in his system, he can turn into the Incredible Hulk.

  I sigh and take in the grungy atmosphere of the bar. Illuminating the walls are cheesy, half-naked girls with bright neon lights, and frames of black and white pictures of men riding motorcycles. The ceiling is quite low, with flickering fluorescent lights that makes my hands look like they are covered with dark gray spots due to the dead bugs in the lights’ containers. Surrounding pool tables and round bar tables are men wearing sleeveless leather jackets, with unruly beards and sleazy smiles.

  I am very aware I am one of the few girls in the large establishment; the other girls are wearing short tops and even shorter shorts as they walk around with trays in hands and smiles taking up their makeup-slathered faces.

  “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” a thick voice grits out beside me. I look to my right and find a stocky man wearing a red bandana and an eye patch grinning at me. I nearly cringe at the sight of his yellow-stained teeth and the smell of bitter, cheap beer that surrounds him. He lifts a bushy eyebrow, and I find it my cue to speak.

  “I’m just looking for a friend…you wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?” My voice is shaky. I am uncomfortable by the sweep his one dark eye makes up and down my body. I consciously cover my chest with my white knit cardigan and anxiously rub the back of my neck. “His name is Grey…Grey Wyler. Know him?” I try to put confidence in my voice, to make it seem like I am not afraid.

  Recognition flashes across his eye, but he shakes his head. “No sireee, but I can become your friend right now, if you want. I’m mighty friendly with the bartender, Patch. What’s your poison? A sweet little martini or hard whiskey on the rocks?” Another uncomfortable sweep of his one-eyed gaze. “I say martini, for a thing like you.”

  “Neither, but thank you for the invitation,” I tell him politely. Why can’t he just leave me alone? I flick my eyes around the man, trying to look for Grey, but it is too dark for me to find him in the sea of shadows.

  A chorus of whistles throughout the bar makes me gulp and look back at the man. He takes a step closer and is grinning from ear to ear.

  “Awww, come on,” he coos. “Don’t do me like that. It’s just one drink, darling. After that, you can go on looking for your friend.”

  “I don’t want to, sorry—” I try to step around him, but he grabs my forearm and clenches his grimy fingernails into my flesh. I let out a scared yelp mingled with pain as he yanks me into his chest. I nearly choke on vomit because of the putrid odor his body exudes. “Please, let go of me.” Why am I here again? I should have never come.

  “When I offer you a drink, you accept. You gotta learn some manners,” he gripes and slides his tongue along his upper teeth.

  “No, you gotta get the fuck off of her,” a familiar voice spits.

  We both turn our heads to find Grey glaring at the pudgy man, who has yet to let go of me. I can’t help but smile. He grabs the man’s hand that holds me and clutches his fingers like steel around his meaty flesh.

  I step back and rub my burning hand as the man moans in pain and yanks his hand away from Grey’s.

  “Don’t you touch me, boy,” the man warns, pinning Grey with a venomous glare.

  Grey doesn’t flinch.

  “Or what?” he challenges.

  He takes a step forward, and I jump between them and press my hands against his chest.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Grey,” I whisper to him, reaching up and gently rubbing my finger against his throbbing neck.

  “You should listen to your girl, boy,” the man gurgles out with a boastful grin.

  “Don’t call me boy.” His words send a shiver up my spine. I step back as he pushes me forward, vying to get his hands around the man’s neck. His body vibrates with waves of rage that sends me into panic mode. If he starts fighting now, I won’t be able to break it up no matter how much I try.

  “Calm down, Grey,” I tell him, cupping his face. His eyes shoot daggers over my shoulder at the man, but I stand on my very tippy toes and drag his head down so his forehead is pressed against mine. My body lights in familiar flames and my stomach twists, but I remind myself this isn’t real. I just need to calm him down before he starts a fight I won’t be able to stop. “Just—let’s go. David sent me here.”

  He opens his eyes and glares at me, pushing me away. I stumble back and look at him, confused, as he rolls his eyes and turns around, walking back to the bar. “Go back to David. I don’t want you here.”

  “Ouch?” I mumble under my breath before running after him. I hop onto the wooden bar stool on his left and keep my gaze forward. My eyes meet a stuffed fish on a plaque. I look at the rows and rows of aging liquor and the man supplying it.

  He’s wearing a loose plaid shirt, and his hairy arms are covered in tattoos. I slide my eyes to my right and examine Grey. He’s twirling a finger in a broad, short glass of dark brown alcohol. Does he come here often? Why is he here now?

  “Did you not hear me?” He lifts the glass to his lips and swallows the contents before slamming it on the countertop and signaling the bartender, Patch, for more. “I said to—leave.” He hiccups between his words.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, watching nervously as Patch fills up his glass with the same alcohol, stopping at one-quarter. “What are you doing here?”

  “I—should be asking you that.” He downs a good bit of the alcohol. It reeks. Or is it him? I can’t tell the difference. But I do know that he carries a slight bite of odor around him. When’s the last time he’s showered? Why do I care?

  He turns to me with a lazy, yet hostile, smile. “Shouldn’t you be with David?” he sing-songs in a childish tone.

  I glance at Patch, wondering if he’s normally like this when drinking, also wondering if he’s here enough that I could say normally. He merely
shrugs and turns to another customer.

  I let out a sigh and look at Grey, who slowly snakes his tongue across his dry lips. I examine his attire; his black shirt is ridiculously wrinkled, his dark hair is shaggy and all over the place, and his biker boots are bent and untied and beat up even more than usual. What the heck happened to him?

  “What? Cat got your tongue or are you too busy day-dreaming about David?” he urges while scrunching up his face before knocking back the rest of the drink.

  What?

  He turns to Patch and raises his glass.

  “I think you’ve had enough to drink,” I say and grab his arm that is resting on the counter. He looks over his shoulder and yanks his arm down. My hand meets the sticky counter, and I suck in a deep breath to keep from snapping. Keep calm, Liv, my subconscious whispers.

  “I think the fuck not,” he says, keeping eye contact with me as he knocks back the drink and slams the empty glass on the counter.

  I flinch and close my eyes to keep from yelling and leaving. I don’t see what I am doing here. He obviously can take care of himself.

  I open my eyes to find him grabbing the unattended bottle and pouring a full cup before gulping a large sum of it. I widen my eyes and lurch forward, grabbing the drink from him.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hiss as he tries to get the glass back, pushing against me, reaching behind me for it. “Get off of me, Grey!”

  “Not until you give it back!” he screams.

  I put my hand over his face and struggle with him until I glance over at the counter. There’s a sink. I push his face away and dump the alcohol down the drain before sliding the glass across the counter. I remove my hand, and he sits back and lifts the plastic menu under his arm, looking for the glass.

  “Where’d you put it?” he growls.

  “I’m getting you out of here.” I stand and grab his wrist, but he yanks me back to the seat and presses me against the counter. His eyes are pinning me to the wood that stabs at my lower back.