“I’ll let you know which fork to use,” he says, moving back and staring at me with dancing eyes.
I pout. “Fine.”
He smiles wide, holding my chin and lifting my face up. “When we get home, I’ll show you just how much I love that dress on you.”
My heart races. Let’s get this dinner over with.
*****
Do you know what’s awkward? Answering question after question, and each answer you give turning out to be more horrifying than the last.
What do your parents do? Not much because they are dead.
Do you have any other family? Yes.
Do you talk to them? No, not really.
And so the night went on. It turned out there were multiple forks, and Grayson started laughing when I gave him a look that said ‘I told you so’. Grayson’s mother, Laura, is the epitome of sophistication. She has dark hair, cut in a severe bob, light brown eyes, and a soft voice. His father, Derek, looks like an older version of Grayson with dark hair and eyes, and a set of dimples. The only difference being his eyes aren’t playful or amused like Grayson’s usually are; instead, they seem shrewd and slightly calculating.
“Would you like dessert, dear?” Laura asks me.
“No, thank you,” I say with a polite smile. Grayson glances at me and frowns. He knows I love dessert, and I’m not usually one to turn it down. However, I’d rather this dinner end as soon as possible. They have been nothing but kind to me, but with the questioning and looks in their eyes, I can tell they would rather their son be with someone else. I don’t know if it’s for the fact I obviously don’t have any money or what, but I don’t think I’ll be bonding with them any time soon. Grayson sits next to me, his arm rested casually on the back of my chair. He’s been sweet and attentive all night, even telling his parents to stop with the questions. I appreciated that—a lot.
“Do you want to go, babe?” Grayson asks, softly so only I can hear.
“Do you?” I ask, not wanting to be rude and leave if he wanted to stay. He kisses me and then stands up.
“We have to go. We have classes in the morning. But thanks for dinner,” he says casually, putting out his hand to me. I take it and stand up, thanking both his parents and telling them it was nice to meet them.
“Are you okay?” he asks me as he opens the car’s passenger side door.
“Fine. Why?” I ask.
He leans on the car door, watching me silently. “You were perfect,” is all he says. He closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. Perfect? I felt awkward as hell.
“Are you staying at mine tonight?” he asks as we pull onto the main road.
“No, can you take me home?” I ask.
“Why?” he asks, his lips turning into a frown.
“I have work tonight,” I tell him. I start in two hours. It’s my second to last shift, and then I’m free. No longer a Toxic Girl. No longer Snow. Just plain old Paris. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Grayson sighs. “I hate you working late. I can just imagine all the men hitting on you.”
He has no idea. “This is my second to last shift, remember,” I tell him.
“Good. You know I can help you if you need…”
“Grayson,” I snap, not wanting to hear his offer. He’s mentioned it once before, and there is no way in hell I will become a kept woman.
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, sulking.
“I thought you wanted to show me how much you loved this dress?” I ask in a sultry, suggestive voice.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, glancing at me before tightening his fists on the steering wheel.
The car goes a little faster.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day, I stare at the missed calls on my phone, wondering why my sister and brother are both calling me. I send London a quick text message, asking her if everything is okay, and then head to class. It’s not unheard of for London to call me, usually when she needs something, but my brother? He never contacts me. I put my sunglasses on, and walk quickly to campus, not wanting to be late for my class. As I walk toward the building Leah, Grayson’s sister, stops me.
“Hi, Paris,” she says as she walks toward me. We haven’t really spoken before, apart from a few hellos and smiles. As petty as it may seem, Leah is Dylan’s friend, so I didn’t really see her becoming my best friend any time soon. Having said that, she seems to be a nice girl, always smiling, and I know she loves her brother a lot by the stories Grayson has told me.
“Hey, Leah, how are you?” I ask her, offering her a small smile.
She pushes her hair behind her ear. “I’m good. Just thought maybe we could hang out some time? My brother is crazy about you, and I don’t know you at all.”
She wants to hang out?
“Umm, sure,” I say, not sounding convincing even to my own ears.
She gives me a knowing look. “I’ll get your number off Grayson and send you a text.”
“Leah!” someone calls out. We both look in that direction. When I see Dylan walking over, I stifle a groan. Not someone I want to see right now… or ever.
“Hey, Dylan,” Leah says, giving me an apologetic look.
“Hey. I didn’t know you two were friends,” Dylan says, shooting a sneer in my direction.
Leah shrugs and says, “She’s dating my brother. I’d like to get to know her.”
Dylan’s face drops at that reminder. “Everyone dates your brother. You going to make friends with the whole school?”
Leah scowls. “Paris is different. He’s crazy about her.”
Dylan makes a scoffing noise. Bitch.
“Anyway, Paris, we’ll catch up soon, yeah?” Leah says, pulling the strap of her bag.
“Umm, okay,” I say, blinking slowly. “See ya.” I walk off, ignoring Dylan’s dirty looks.
Maybe Leah and I could be friends? I shake my head and head to class.
Priorities.
*****
Grayson releases a guttural moan as he finishes. Panting, I slide off him and lie down next to him, smiling as I catch my breath. This is the first time we made love without a condom, because I’m now on the pill, and it was incredible.
“I’m getting kind of good at that,” I boast.
Grayson grunts. “More than good. You’re amazing, babe.”
I smile wider into the dim light, and then move into the crook of his arm. He turns to face me, moonlight on his face, our eyes connected. “Want to go again?” I ask into the silence.
He chuckles. “I’m going to need a minute.”
“A minute? You old man,” I joke. I squeal as he rolls on top of me, pushing me into the mattress. I love the feel of his weight on top of me.
“Old? I’ll show you old,” he says, tickling me until I scream. He rolls me so I’m lying completely on top of him.
“Is it always like this?” I ask, lifting myself up so I can see his face.
He tenderly touches my cheek with his fingers. “It’s never been like this.”
“I thought so,” I choke out. I kiss him, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling gently. I feel him grow hard again and smile into his mouth.
“You asked for it,” he growls, flipping me over and slowly sliding into me. He lifts my arms above my head and pins them down. “I think I love you, Paris O’Sullivan,” he says.
I think I love him too.
*****
I wake up in Grayson’s arms. Wriggling, I disentangle myself and sit up, taking in the view. He’s sleeping on his side, facing me, completely nude. I’m one lucky girl; that’s for damn sure. Last night, he told me he loved me. At least he said he thought he did. Is that the same thing? Or does that mean he’s falling in love with me? I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, but I couldn’t. Until I’m free of Toxic, it wouldn’t be right for me to tell him that. When I do tell him I love him, I want it to be with no secrets between us. I devour the sight of him, unconsciously reaching out and running my fingers down
his rippled abs.
“Mornin’,” he says, making me jump. I look up at his face to see his eyes wide open and on me.
“Morning,” I reply, licking my bottom lip. I look down, a little embarrassed and turned on at being caught ogling him while he slept.
“You look a little flushed,” he points out. My eyes rise to his. I roll them. His lip twitches, as he obviously takes pleasure in watching me squirm.
“Do you like what you see?” he asks, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head. “Do you?” he prompts.
“Fishing for compliments?” I ask, sitting up on my knees. My fingers caress his chest, before slowly moving down further. I trace his abs with my index finger, causing him to tense.
He sighs, closing his eyes. “That feels good.”
“I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” I say in a soft voice.
His eyes open. “Babe, you have no idea. Trust me when I say that I’m the lucky one.” He pulls me down next to him, and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and lastly my lips. “I meant what I said last night.”
I open my mouth to talk but he puts his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“You don’t even know everything about me,” I manage to say, my brows furrowing.
“I know that, and I’m enjoying getting to know you slowly, bit by bit,” he says, lowering the silk strap of my pyjama top.
I push my strap back up, narrowing my eyes. “Yeah, you know me like that don’t you?”
His body shakes as he chuckles. “I know you. Not fully yet, but enough. I know that for some reason you hate the colour white, even though your hair is almost that colour and is fucking beautiful. Your favourite colour is blue. Like your eyes, which are also mesmerizing and fucking beautiful. You don’t like to talk about yourself. Learning things about you is like pulling teeth, but you have a good heart. You’re kind, smart, and witty. And the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
He’s right. I hate white, because that’s what they usually make me wear as Snow.
“I know you make this little mewling moaning sound when you’re about to come,” he says, running his hand over my chest. “Want me to prove it?” he asks.
I cradle his cheek with my hand, his tanned skin against my pale. He is all dark, whereas I’m all light. The contrast is beautiful.
“How about I show you how much I know about you?” I purr, undressing and throwing my clothes onto the floor.
“I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes on my body.
“Okay. After you make me breakfast,” I say, grinning and walking out of the room.
He chases after me into the kitchen, makes love to me on the floor, and then makes me breakfast.
Priorities.
Chapter Fifteen
When I’m walking to class the next day, I can tell something isn’t right. I run and see a crowd forming in a circle. Pushing through the bouts of people, some of them yelling some of them cheering, I see what the fuss is all over. In the centre of the circle stands Grayson, who is beating the shit out of some guy.
“Grayson!” I yell, stepping into the circle, only to be pulled back by Daniel, one of Grayson’s friends.
“Don’t get in the middle,” Daniel says, gripping me by the waist. I struggle but his hold doesn’t yield, so I turn back to face Grayson. His clenched fist hits the guy in the nose, and I hear a horrible crunching noise. On closer inspection, the person Grayson is fighting is Jake, his friend. What the fuck is going on here?
“Why are they fighting?” I ask Daniel, grimacing as Jake gets in one punch to Grayson’s stomach. Grayson’s next punch sends Jake to the floor. “Why are you not stopping this?” I growl, pushing at him with my hands, trying to get away. Daniel sighs, then bends down and lifts me up in the air, his shoulder to my stomach.
“Put me down, you asshole!” I yell, pounding on his back with my fists. All of a sudden, the crowd goes silent.
“Put her down!” Grayson growls from behind me. Daniel instantly slides me down, and I can feel heat at my back. Hands wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body.
Daniel puts his hands up. “She was trying to get in the middle of the fight.”
“Thanks, bro,” Grayson says to Daniel, stepping to the side and taking me by the hand. We walk quickly to his car. He opens the door for me, still a gentleman even when angry.
“What happened, Gray?” I ask, staring down at his bruised, swollen knuckles. He makes a sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, as if remembering what got him so angry in the first place.
“Gray,” I snap when he doesn’t say anything, but just drives off. He doesn’t reply. When we’re halfway to his house, I can tell that he’s going faster than the speed limit. “Slow down,” I say in a calm voice. He listens to me, and slows down, going the limit. When he pulls up to his house, he slams his fists on the steering wheel, making me jump in my seat.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. He takes in a deep breath, as if to calm himself. He turns off the engine and slams the door shut, and walks off. Just leaving me there in the car. I get out and follow him in the house. He’s standing in the lounge room, waiting for me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Are you a stripper?” he asks without flinching. I freeze. I knew I should have told him myself. I’m so stupid. I only have one shift left before I’m done, and I thought I could get away with it. Fucking stupid. He takes my silence as a yes, because he starts smashing shit around the room.
“Grayson,” I choke out, lifting my hand but then retracting it.
“Jake’s dad is a regular at Toxic,” he says, not looking at me. “He took a picture of you on his phone. Jake saw it.”
What the fuck? No one is allowed to take pictures in the club; he must have done it on the sly.
I swallow audibly, my vision blurring. “I’m sorry,” I say, a tear dropping down my cheek. And I am. So damn sorry, because I know this isn’t something that someone can just forgive. I don’t expect him to forgive me. I fucked up. I wasn’t honest, and now I have to face the consequences.
“All this time,” he growls, dropping onto the couch like he has no energy left. I’ve drained it all. Me and my issues.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me why,” he says, his gaze connecting with mine. His eyes are cold. Hard. Hurt.
“I was already working there when I met you…”
“Not that. Tell me why you weren’t honest with me,” he says, his tone flat.
“I didn’t want you to look at me how you’re looking at me right now,” I tell him honestly.
He scoffs, and looks away. “I just beat the shit out of my best friend for disrespecting you, when he was right all along.”
It hurts. It burns. I want to tell him I love him, so fucking much, but I’m not that selfish. I stand, my hands shaking, cast him one last longing look, and then I walk out the door. I can hear things breaking as I stand out front, wondering how the hell I’m going to get home. I start to walk. It’s not that far, maybe a forty-five minute walk. I could call Anaya to come and get me, but I figure a walk would do me good. It gives me time to be alone, to deal with the consequences of my actions and feel sorry for myself.
Just like I deserve.
*****
I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. When I hear a banging at the door, I get up to go answer it. Looking through the peephole, I see Grayson’s angry face. What the hell? I unlock the door and open it, watching as he gives me a once over, as if checking if I’m okay.
“What the fuck, Paris?” he growls, walking into the house. I close and lock the door, and then follow him into the living area.
“What?” I ask, my voice weak. I just want to go to bed.
“I rang you a million times! How did you get home? I was worried,” he says, sitting down and looking tired.
“I walk
ed home,” I say, leaning back against the wall and shrugging.
“You walked home,” he repeats, saying each word slowly.
“Yes,” I say, dragging out the word.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps, standing up and starting to pace.
“Oh, so what, now that you know I’m a stripper it’s okay to talk to me like that?” I ask, gritting my teeth.
“What?” he asks, looking at me as if he hasn’t seen me before. “Do you not know me at all?”
I have no idea what to say, so I stay silent. He doesn’t.
“I was worried. I didn’t want you to walk home alone; it isn’t safe. A few minutes after you left, it hit me; you don’t have your car, and I drove around looking for you,” he says, running his hands through his hair in agitation.
“My phone was on silent. I didn’t even check it,” I say, looking down at my hands. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.” To be honest, I didn’t think he would be worried about me ever again. I guess I underestimated what a nice guy he is. Or maybe he just feels sorry for me? Great. Grayson curses and walks over to me, standing close but not touching.
“Such beauty…” he says, lifting my chin up with his fingers. “Such a shame it was shared with everyone.”
What? I ignore the pain in my chest and the tears threatening to surface.
“Get out,” I say. My voice is calm and collected.
“Paris…”
“I have a huge debt. It’s not even my debt, but I need to pay it nonetheless. But for you, I quit stripping, not even caring how I was going to pay it off. Putting my sister in danger. I only have one night left, and then I’m done.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I know I was wrong to lie to you about it, and it’s probably unforgiveable, but I don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Please leave,” I say, my voice cracking. I drop my gaze.
“You could have come to me,” he says, his voice small. I risk a glance at him. He’s not looking at me; he’s standing there lost in thought. “I have more money than I know what to do with. And my woman is fucking stripping to pay shit off? Fuck,” he says, turning his back to me. He threads his hands behind his neck, looking down. “Do you think so little of me?” he asks, shaking his head.
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