Grey: The Infatuation (Spectrum Series Book 2)

by Allison White

  Before I can say anything, a loud bullhorn breaks through the air and the music is cut.

  “Ladies and gents, are you ready for the fight between infamous skull crusher Grey Wyler and the legendary Xion?” The loud voice slices through the silence. A rowdy cry from the growing audience is his response. “Let’s. Do. This!”

  I flinch and look around as people walk over to Grey and nudge him toward the circle, but he stands his ground and sneers at them. Not wanting to mess with “the skull crusher,” they back off and join their group of sadistic people.

  “Say something, Liv,” Grey nearly begs, his voice cracking both his words and my heart.

  “I hope you enjoy your fighting, because that’s the only constant in your life. Not me…not anymore,” I say. My heart bursts at the sight of his face. Tears well in my eyes, and one escapes. I tighten my grip around myself and walk away.

  As I enter Sam’s open arms, I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing…or making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Chapter Two

  I am five feet away from Sam, his hand held out for me to take, when a voice slices through the briefly numb air, and I’m whirled around on my feet. My gasp is audible as I lay my hands on a firm chest.

  “No.” The word is simple and straightforward. I hold in my breath and slowly look up into Grey’s eyes, ready to push him off me, but the intensity rips all speech from my lips.

  A part of me is giddy that he persistently comes after me, but I have told him to leave me alone time and time again. He just won’t listen. It’s infuriating beyond words.

  “What are you doing, Grey?” I anxiously look around at the angered people who want to see him beat a guy’s face in. “You have to go back and fight before these people want to do the same thing to you.”

  “I’ll take a thousand punches just to have another chance with you,” he says.

  “Very funny…now let me go and go fight.” I pull my hands close in an attempt to back away, but he brings me forward and raises his brows as if to question me. “I said to let go of me, Grey.”

  “Just—just let me talk, okay?” he says, nervously wetting his lips.

  “Fine,” I say with great hesitance. I already made my decision. How is him talking more bullshit going to change my mind? He’ll just say that he’s changed, or he wants to for me, and when we’re finally together, he’ll hurt me again and ask for another chance. I see it coming, and I don’t want to waste my time.

  “You said you wanted a gesture. This is it.” He lets go of my wrists and raises his arms and lets them fall back at his sides. He cocks his head to the side, with a smug little smile that actually makes me stifle one of my own. Cocky son of a—“If you want me to sing some sappy love song for you or embarrass myself in public by sending you a gazillion flowers, I’ll do it. Just for you. Because—because you bring out that cheesy son of a bitch I thought I would never ever become. You bring out the…best in me…Now I officially want to kill myself.” His smile is crooked, and the crowd is growing rowdier by each sickly sweet second.

  Don’t believe him—not so quickly, Liv, my subconscious pleads desperately, but I shut the door to that part of my brain and look at Grey. And I mean really look at him. His eyes hold a hard edge, but his lips are pulled down into a soft frown. His thick eyebrows are knitted together, creating a crease in his forehead, while those little dimples teasingly appear in his cheeks. He really does have the “puppy dog” look down pat, doesn’t he?

  “Go back and fight, Grey,” I tell him in a whisper that floats in the electric air between us. But I don’t want him to fight. I want him to be here, with me. I don’t want any more fighting. I just want him.

  Staring into my eyes, he firmly takes my hands and says in a low voice, “I’d rather fight for you.”

  “You told me you don’t date, and I won’t be your plaything while you mess around with other girls.” I have more dignity than that. And if I can’t have common sense when it comes to him, I want at least that—a sense of pride that can be upheld without him being able to tear it down with a stroke of his hands. I want something in me to withstand the raging storm this complex boy wreaks unto me.

  “I don’t, but I’m willing to try for you.” His words are soft and cause me to flush bright pink. I swallow back an embarrassing sound.

  “Why me?” Why am I so special? I don’t understand. He can have any girl he wants, so why me? Is it because I am idiotic enough to stay around for the emotional abuse?

  “Because you make me feel. Of all the years I took my medicine, I haven’t felt anything. Not emotionally. Not physically. Nothing. I’ve just been this numb shell, but then…then you came along, and I feel everything times a hundred. My heart goes crazy when you’re around, and I crave to see that light in your eyes or that little thing your nose does when you smile. And fuck—I want to be the person who makes you laugh like that.”

  He gently brushes his finger against my lower lip. I can practically feel his desire to pinch it and pull me into his warm mouth, but his rough thumb caresses my cheek as if I’m a delicate flower. He’s softening up for me? To sway me…? If so…it’s working.

  “I’m afraid, Grey,” I admit and swallow another deep breath. He looks confused. My eyes flit around to avoid his hooded ones. “I am afraid that you’ll hurt me again, maybe even ten-fold. And I—I barely survived the first few rounds…I’m only human. There’s only so much I can take before I break.” My own voice breaks, and I grind my teeth together before locking my eyes with his.

  He looks utterly consumed with so many emotions—anger, sadness, regret, guilt—everything hits him like a hurricane, and he holds my chin, tilting my head back as he brings me closer, and he whispers, “I am so sorry I have been such a dick to you. You honestly deserve the world and more. I don’t know how to treat you without messing up like the asshole I am. I don’t want you to cry, or feel like you can’t trust me, or be so afraid of getting hurt that you won’t give me a chance. But if you let me, I will make it up to you. Again, I am willing to do that whole musical dance shit.” He laughs, and I do too, a tear slipping past my flood gates.

  He gently wipes it away. “Just…you have to let me be that person who makes you happy. Please let me feel. I—I need to be able to feel. I haven’t in so long, and I love it. I can’t lose it now.” His voice nearly breaks with the strong emotion behind it.

  He’ll just find a way to hurt me, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself be hurt by him again. This is my stupid subconscious talking. I thought I shut her up. I lock the door and throw the key down a black hole. I have to give him a chance, because no matter how much I tell myself that I don’t need him, or how I shouldn’t put up with him despite what he makes me feel, or that I am just going to get hurt again…I can’t resist him. He has become the very air that I breathe, as cliché as it sounds. It’s completely and utterly true. Like how much I have fallen for this beautifully catastrophic man.

  “If I say maybe, will you go fight before we’re ripped to shreds?” I ask with a nervous smile, which turns into light laughter ghosting my lips. I glance at the impatient crowd yelling and booing at us.

  He laughs too, and I admire the light shining across his eyes and the smile that creates two craters in his cheeks. “Yes, I will take a maybe. But promise me you’ll think about it.” He grips my cheeks, squishing them together so I look ridiculous. He bellows in laughter, and I whine and poke at his hard stomach. He slows down but doesn’t give a damn about any tender boundaries as he leans down and kisses my nose. I close my eyes and suck on my bottom lip so hard, I’m afraid it’s as bruised as a fruit.

  “Sorry…” he says, pulling away. The word falters, and he looks at the ground before catching my curious gaze. I watch the way he talks and shyly smiles before letting his hands fall. I nearly grab his hands and put them back on my face, but I catch myself before I do. “I didn’t mean to…does that in any way affect what I said?” He looks regretful.r />
  I can barely hold back my smile. I stand on my tippy toes and press my palms into his shoulder. I cup his scruffy cheeks, lazily running my index finger up and down the sharp curve of his cheekbone. I swear I see blood on the tip of my finger. I look into his eyes and almost laugh at the hardness of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes.

  Excited, I see? Take it slow, Liv. He’s still on probation. Don’t give in to him so easily.

  “Good luck out there…skull crusher,” I whisper into his ear, teasing him on his introduction. I almost let my teeth graze his earlobe, but I pull back before I can.

  His grip around my waist grows tighter as he yanks me closer into his chest. A sharp gasp leaves my mouth, but I swallow the next one teasing my throat before it can slip out again.

  “I need to hear you say it,” he almost pleads, his voice edgy.

  “I promise to think about it,” is all I tell him, keeping my gaze and facial expression blank. He narrows his eyes like I thought he would, and I nearly burst into laughter. How does it feel to be the one teased now? I almost ask him. I fall onto the balls of my feet and take a step away from him, my hands clutched behind my back.

  He’s shaking his head with an amused smirk, letting his lower lip unravel by his teeth before nodding and telling me with a smirk, “Enjoy the show, Princess.” He winks at me, and I place my hand over my mouth before I can let out any sound that indicates how it affects me.

  Keep your cool, Liv. Keep your damn cool, I tell myself and let out a breath and give him a casual nod and shrug.

  “Liv, we’re leaving! Julia’s seeing shit again.” I turn around to find Jaimie struggling to put her girlfriend in the backseat of her car, but Julia is holding her ground and trying to unbuckle Jaimie’s pants. I nearly burst into a fit of laughter. “I tell her to stop smoking this shit, but does she listen to me? No!”

  I turn back around and give Grey a once over.

  “See you around, Wyler.” I keep my own voice fixed and give him a suggestive wink of my own. I swivel on my heels, with my hands in the pockets of my jeans. Before I do, I catch a brief glimpse of his face. An eyebrow is raised high in the sky, and he has his luscious pink lips lifted and agape as he watches me walk away from him.

  ***

  I have been on cloud nine since we left the party. I still can’t believe Grey said all those things to me. It felt like I was watching a silly rom-com, but the weird part was I was actually in it. I had the attractive man with a “heart of gold”—though Grey’s would be more rust than gold, if I’m being honest—tell me of his truest and purest desires and promise to be good for me. It’s almost like I’m in one of those ridiculous bad-boy-good-girl novels I used to read in middle school…

  I texted Sam how sorry I was to leave so suddenly, but he texted back saying it was okay and how he understood. I’m glad he’s all right with it. While I was in the texting mood, I wished Mason a good night and asked him—more like demanded—to tell me what happened on his date tonight.

  Julia is knocked out on her bed, loud snores and murmuring and all. I find that she only does this when she smokes, which is about 75% of the time. She claims she has glaucoma and that the weed helps her disease. I dismissed it. I don’t really care, as long as she doesn’t force me to stick one of those god awful things down my throat. I scrunch up my nose as I walk back into the room after brushing my teeth. It reeks of the stuff in here. I have to tell her to stop smoking them in here.

  I slip under the sheets on my bed and shut off the lamp. I face the wall and brace myself for the nightmares I am bound to face tonight. I do every single night, but the preparing never helps. Not once. It only reminds me that I will have to face this for the rest of my life.

  For some reason, I didn’t encounter one last night, and they always come, every single night. But I have been noticing that they have been spotty. More like whenever Grey and I are in bed together, to sleep I mean…I blush and snuggle deeper into my blankets. It’s almost like being around him makes the nightmares melt away before they can touch me…

  I’m just closing my eyes when I hear something. It sounds like mumbled music, like it’s enveloped in cotton. Oh, yes, please pop into my mind, brilliant, creepy Edgar Allen Poe. I roll my eyes and push the thick comforter off my legs before standing. Exhausted, I rub my eyes and walk over to the window. The closer I get, the more distinctive the sound is. I almost lose my heart altogether when I pull the sheer curtains back.

  Grey is under my window, wearing a black trench coat and holding up a boom box.

  I quickly throw the window open and am met with an 80’s song I can’t place my finger on. It sounds like the end song from The Breakfast Club.

  Am I asleep? Am I actually dreaming a pleasant dream after so many years? I pinch myself, gasp in pain, and let out a beyond confused but entertained laugh. This boy is insane…and he’s all mine…

  “What…Grey, what the hell?” I shout over the music. What is actually happening right now?

  “You said maybe…I don’t do well with maybes, or no’s—I need a yes. A clear yes that I can have in my head when I go to sleep tonight, with a smile on my face. Plus, I told you I would show you a gesture. Isn’t this the best there is?” he shouts back.

  “I said I would think about it,” I say and cover my mouth.

  He shrugs, grinning. “A little nudge can’t hurt, right?”

  “Grey,” I whine, gripping the window pane before slightly leaning over, my palm cradling my chin, my elbow on the pane. “You might want to turn it down before campus security gives you a nudge, maybe even more. You’re going to wake the whole dorm up with that thing.”

  “Couldn’t give less of a fuck,” he quips back with a wicked smile. I shyly look away and play with my bottom lip with my finger, crossing my ankles and scrunching my nose. “You look ador-a-fuck-able!” he suddenly screams. I laugh. “Are you wearing shorts? Would you still take me back if I acted like a ravenous fuck and took you on your bed? I haven’t gotten some in so long!”

  Has he no shame? He’ll wake everyone up!

  “Jesus Christ, Grey!” I yell and bite into my palm to hold back laughter. “I hope this is as far as you’ll go with your cheesy ‘get-the-girl-back’ schemes,” I warn him.

  “Oh, baby, I’ve already booked the props and bought the flowers for tomorrow’s public showcase,” he jokes—at least I hope he’s joking. He wouldn’t actually go the extra mile to do something as ridiculous and crazy as that…would he? Judging by the infamous 80’s pop song he’s blasting right now, and the ridiculous trench coat he has on, I’d say yes. He would go that far. And I love it. “So, will you, Olivia Westerfield, go out…with me?”

  I hum and tilt my head back and forth. “Maybe.” I scrunch my nose at him.

  He lets out a nervous laugh and shifts on his feet. “Wh-what? You were supposed to say yes. I had this whole thing planned, and—”

  “Goodnight, Grey,” I purr with an amused arch of my eyebrows while waving my hand at him. He begins to yell out, but I bring the window down and twist the lock on. With one swift swipe, I close the sheer curtains and fall back onto my bed, laughing. I hide my face with my hands and try to suppress my laughter to keep from waking up Julia.

  But I can’t help it. He has done something…remarkable. Grey Wyler has become my dull, grey rainbow that I don’t even mind. Who needs sickly bright colors anyway? All I need is him. The Grey.

  Chapter Three

  I wake up with a start. I grip the sheets and feel my heart tremor like an earthquake inside my chest. Last night’s nightmare spooked me, like usual, and I try to catch my breath and sanity. I lean against the wall and take deep breaths, using the breathing technique my last therapist taught me.

  When I finally gather my bearings, I swipe the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead and feel something hard land on my leg. I let out a cry of pain and turn my head to find Jaimie fumbling back and smiling at me like she just killed someone and was trying to cover it up. />
  “Why are you acting so weird?” I move my eyes to her girlfriend, who raises her eyebrows and shrugs. I narrow my eyes at the two before looking down and spotting my phone. Did they just throw it at me? Wait. Why did they have it in the first place?

  “Were you guys just going through my phone?” I ask incredulously. Why would they go through my phone? I grab my phone out of the sheets and glare at them, genuinely confused.

  I rub my eyes before brushing my thick hair out of my eyes. I find Jaimie grinning at me suspiciously while Julia is “innocently” scrolling through her phone.

  I swipe my finger across my screen and gasp. Grey texted me while I was sleeping thirty minutes ago, and they’ve been replying on my behalf! Apparently, he and I confirmed that we’re going out Friday night. I sheepishly look away and decide not to correct him on that. How bad can us going out be? But, back to the topic, how insane can these two be?

  My jaw is on the floor by the time I’ve scrolled through every message, the last one taking the cake. Remind me to put a password on my phone. I just didn’t think something like this would happen.

  “Before you say anything, you really should have a password on your phone,” Jaimie says, holding her hands up in defense. I glare at her, and she sheepishly twirls her hair. “Plus, we were bored. And it was dinging, so we thought—why not? You know?”

  “No, I don’t know.” I let out a breath and chuck my phone to the side. I’ll tell him it was them who texted him later. Not me. Right now, I need to shower and clear my mind with a good ol’ cup of coffee. Nothing could jolt me more awake. Maybe a live wire, but coffee would most likely win that battle.

  “So, you two are a thing again?” Julia inquires as I grab my towel hanging on the back of the door. I turn around and look between her and Jaimie, who is eyeing me with a scary, silent look. Let me tell you, a silent Jaimie is a terrifying sight—it means she’s planning something covert and underhanded, like what she pulled last night.