“Hey to you too, Jaim.” I awkwardly pat her back while I hold the cake with my one free arm.
“Stop being awkward, you frail, little thing.” She pulls away, eyes gleaming with glee.
I laugh, warming at the sight of her face slathered with green gunky stuff—an organic face mask, I presume. She’s dressed down in a pink pajama shorts with unicorns and a lighter pink tank top.
“Come in, stupid!” She grabs my wrist and yanks me into the small foyer. I chuckle as she takes the cake from me and holds it up, examining it like it’s a foreign planet from another universe. “Shoes off. I just polished the floors two days ago.” Her voice fades as she disappears around the corner.
“Got it.” I shrug off my coat while simultaneously toeing off my heels. I look around as I hang up my red coat. Bright, eccentric paintings and photos of both girls being goofy line the left cream wall as you enter the door.
I run my hand along the wall and take notice of the plush rug I step onto as I break free from the foyer, a delicate chandelier hanging about ten inches above my head. Straight ahead is the living room. Dark wooden floors, a white round rug under a glass coffee table, a flat screen, and colorful purple and pink chairs.
The place screams Jaimie. I bet Julia let her decorate the place just because the girl could pull one heck of a puppy dog face. I know; I’ve witnessed it firsthand.
I find Jaimie on the counter, literally, cross-legged, fork dug into the cake. “Hungry?” I tease, walking over to her. She stops chewing halfway and blushes guiltily.
“Jules’s out getting Chinese food, on her way from a study group. But she’s taking too damn long, and the good Lord brought an angel with cake.” She huffs, sounding annoyed. “How am I supposed to lose three pounds if you come over here unexpectedly with buttercream cake? My favorite!”
Laughter lingers in my words as I hold up my hands in defense. “My bad. Next time I won’t bring any cake.”
“Nooo, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says softly.
I roll my eyes and hop onto the counter.
“Why are you here, anyway?” she says, friction and hostility in her tone. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you anymore.”
I sigh and look at her nasty pout and narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry you thought that, but that wasn’t the case. I was just so focused on diving back into school and taking on the program. You know you’re important to me.”
She eyes me up and down, weighing my words. “Like, cronuts big time important?”
“Yes, that important.” I laugh at her obsessive love for sweets. If she could, I bet she’d eat sugary treats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“I still feel neglected.” She crosses her arms and defiantly looks away from me.
I sigh. “I’ll buy you a box of cronuts tomorrow.”
Her eyes light up, and she glances at me, but just for a fleeting, hopeful second. “Throw in an iced coffee?”
Another winded sigh. “Consider it done.”
A smile slowly melts onto her face like butter on a hot, summer day. “Oh, you broke me down. It’s all cool!” She faces me and shoves a forkful of confetti cake in her mouth. “So why do you look like a hot secretary that fucks her boss for coupons at Steakhouse?”
“What?” That entire sentence is confusing. Steakhouse, coupons? I didn’t even know that was a thing.
She waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve been watching a lot of The Office. Funny show, you should give it a go.”
“I’m dressed like…this because I just came from the internship.”
“And you’re getting fucked but don’t like it?” She squints her dark brown eyes and leans forward. “If you’re being assaulted by your boss, blink once. If not, twice.”
I push her face away and roll my eyes. “I am not getting…” I take a breath and slowly reassure her. “Nothing is happening between me and my boss.”
“You sure? You just blinked.”
“Jaim,” I groan but can’t help but laugh at her ridiculousness. “There’s nothing going on. I’m very much in love with Grey. You know, my boyfriend.”
“Love fades, my little Bambi.” She points the fork at me. A piece of cake falls on my foot. I sigh and pick it up. She licks it off my finger, and I scrunch up my face. “Don’t be such a prude. You’re wearing stockings.”
I just raise my brows and stare at the cake, gliding my finger across the yellow frosting. I plop it on my tongue and smile softly at the sweet, creamy taste.
“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s wrong?” Jaimie says suspiciously.
I look up into her dark eyes and shake my head. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Don’t try that bullshit with me. I know you like the back of my hand,” she claims. “Lay it on me. We don’t have long before Julia comes back and eats her cake, if you know what I mean.” She winks at me, and I shudder.
“You two are insatiable,” I accuse, but she just shrugs with an evil glint in her eyes. I take a long breath. “And…well, I have this amazing opportunity, but I’m stuck on whether I should take it or not.”
“Don’t leave a bitch hanging. What’s the deal?”
“I have a spot for a well-paid internship in New York and a slot in NYU. One of the hardest schools to get into. And to have a paid internship at this company is one in a million. Practically harder to get in there than the Pentagon.”
“Okay, and what’s keeping you from jumping on the opportunity like a bitch in heat?” Her analogies will always puzzle me.
“Grey,” I croak softly, thumbing my lower lip.
“How?” She frowns and shrugs. “Drag the fucker to the Apple with you.”
“He won’t want to come.”
“Did you ask him?” she asks in a duh tone.
“No, but—”
“Then ask the fucker.”
“And what if he says he doesn’t want to come with me?”
“Then drop his ass, pack your bags, and go.” Again, in a duh tone. Like there should be no question.
“I can’t just do that, Jaim.” My voice breaks, and I bring my knees up to my chest.
“Yes, you can.”
“I love him, Jaim. I can’t just…leave him.”
She sighs and puts her fork down. She’s finished half of the cake already. “You can love someone without feeling obligated to them. You do what you want to. Don’t think of him, relying on his word. He does not control you. He may be an asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but I know he does love you. He might move with you and make the change.”
“I pray you’re right.” I lick my lips in thought. What if he doesn’t want to come? Will I be strong enough to let him go and leave on my own? Live without him?
She takes my trembling hands I hadn’t even noticed and looks me square in the eyes. “Don’t pray, just hope. You can’t stack your life on that man because he will knock it down if it doesn’t please him.”
My gut wrenches because I know she’s right, but I can’t help it. I am in love with him.
Maybe a little too much…
“Do you think we’re a healthy couple?” I ask her honestly, voice crackling.
She sucks in a deep breath, and I search her doe eyes for the answer before she can speak. “Not the healthiest, but is any couple? I mean, you fight, and there’s passion and love and lots of sacrifice. But that’s what relationships are. They aren’t one steady sail to a tropical island. They are tyrant waters testing your dynamic. And you two have been through hell and back. So a healthy couple…eh? Not really. But one that defies all boundaries…absolutely.”
“So, like, not toxic?” I ask slowly, scared of her response.
She smiles. “Do you see yourself with him five years from now?”
I poke my tongue in my cheek, then nod. “Definitely.”
“Then, no. Not toxic. So you can breathe.” She rubs my ankle, and I let out a breath. She laughs, and I flush. She knows me so well.
“Enough about me.” I pat her wrist
. “What’s up with you and Julia?”
“Nothing, just living our best lives in this fan-tastic apartment.” She flips her hair, and I chuckle as she bats her long eyelashes. “So far there’s been lots of fucking. Like over there.” She points to the couches. “There.” She points to an eggshell-colored hammock-like swinging chair in the corner. “And here.” She taps the counter, bouncing her eyebrows like a devious devil.
“Oh, gross! TMI, and gross!” I twist my mouth in disgust, beginning to get down. But she grabs my wrist and throws her head back in laughter. I heat up once I realize she was just kidding. “You are so mean!” I pinch her arm, and she howls in pain, making me laugh.
“But for real, we’re doing mighty great,” she says and begins bouncing excitedly. “And guess what?”
“What?” I pick off a piece of the cake and pop it into my mouth.
“So I had this art class project to design a few ensembles for a big-shot designer, with a chance of him picking one of us to be his assistant.”
“You seem awful excited to be an assistant.”
“Doesn’t matter if the dude is BFF’s with Donatella Versace and fucking Giorgio Armani.” She rolls her eyes dreamily, practically swooning. “Anyway, I killed the presentation and my designs. Guess the fuck what, Liv? Go ‘head and guess what happened next?”
“Uh, he picked y—”
“He picked me!” she roars, cutting me off, her eyes crazy. “I’ll be following his tiny ass around Milan for a whole month. Do you know how much of my shit I can incorporate and get recognized like what Jenny Humphrey did in that episode of Gossip Girl?” she squeals. I have no idea what she means, but that doesn’t stop the smile stretching across my face. She grabs my forearms, eyes twinkling with utter excitement. I launch forward and throw my arms around her.
“I am so proud of you,” I breathe into her hair, hugging her with everything I have. “When do you leave?” I ask as I lean back, holding onto her hands.
“December.”
My heart drops. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, smiling, and change the topic to focus on her. She is leaving December to go after her dream, and I have the same opportunity. She’s lunging after hers, and I bet Julia is beyond proud and happy for her. Yet I am over-analyzing and afraid to go after my own dream, terrified that my boyfriend won’t approve. What is wrong with me? Where did bright, intelligent Olivia go?
***
I left when Julia came home and Jaimie gave me the look that said things were going to go down, whether I left or not. Jaimie’s words about not leaving my future up to Grey stain my brain, keeping me company on the way back home. I know she’s right. There is no doubt about it. I just don’t want to believe it because doing so would force me in a position to do what’s right for me, without thinking of how that affects Grey and me. I want more than anything for him to be supportive and come along with me, but I know it isn’t possible. I know him, and I know he won’t jump at the idea like I desperately dream he would.
I rub my aching chest as I let the idea of us splitting because of this opportunity. I don’t want that to happen. I risked everything and nearly destroyed myself to be with him, just to throw it away, but not for something trivial, but so important as my future? I don’t know what I am going to do.
Just ask him, drama queen. Tell him about what you’re being offered and how it’d be stupid of you to turn it down, a rational part of my brain says.
“You’re right. He may say yes. He may be by my side.” It pains me to be doubtful of his willingness to do anything for my happiness. Then again, I knew how much of a cruel asshole he was when I fell for him. “Stupid.” I shake my head.
The elevator doors finally pry open, stopping at the apartment. I step out and let out an exhausted breath as I shake my jacket off and place it on the rack. After toeing off my heels and neatly setting them against the wall near the door, I venture out into the apartment.
“Grey?” I call out his name, slowly walking down the hallway. I check the bedroom, then the bathroom. Both empty. I frown but come back out and look around for any signs of him. Weird. I tried calling him earlier, but he wouldn’t answer. His phone was off.
“Where the hell are you?” I walk over to the kitchen, undoing my blouse. I am opening the fridge for a yogurt to snack on before I get started on dinner when I notice a bright pink Post-It on the steel surface. Beyond confused, I pick it off and scan his messy handwriting.
It reads.
Left town. Doing a few fights. Will be back in a week. Love, G.
My stomach churns. “What?”
What does he mean, he left town? Just like that? I know him; he’d tell me in person, give me a kiss and assurance that he’ll be safe. He wouldn’t just scribble down a note and leave like fire was lit under his ass. What the heck is going on with him?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Grey
The next morning, I awake to the most annoying sound ever—a phone ringing. I groan and rise from the thick comforter, patting Liv’s side for her small body but coming up empty. I frown and pull the sheet back. Nothing but rumpled bedsheets and the lingering smell of her vanilla-scented skin. Where the hell did she go? My eyes fly toward the clock on the wall. It’s not even the morning anymore; it’s two in the afternoon. She must be at the program, then. Meaning that wretched ringing is my phone.
“For fuck’s sake.” I snatch my phone as I swing my legs over the bed, standing up. “What the fuck do you want? And speak fast,” I hiss, scratching my stomach as I shuffle into the bathroom to take a much-needed piss.
“We got a problem dumping—”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I cut the dumb fuck off. “I left you guys to take care of him. It’s not my fault if you can’t do a simple fucking task without whining to me like a damn baby with his thumb up his ass. Figure. The. Shit. Out.” With that, I hang up and finish pissing. “Dumb fuck,” I utter and strip off my boxers and get in the shower.
I dealt with Dean and left his ass for some very bad people I once knew to deal with him. But apparently, they aren’t even good at their job. The minute I heard about his ass lurking around, I knew he was planning on striking me or Liv to fuck with me, finish what he planned—kill me for being insubordinate and quitting the gang. I only joined in the first place because, well, fuck, I thought my life was over when Liv and I split up. I hadn’t thought she’d wedge herself back in my heart or that we’d be a couple again. I thought we were done.
And in a fucked-up way, I wish we had stayed done. We may have been miserable without each other, like lost puzzles, but at least she was safe, away from me and my even more fucked-up associates. Dean, to be exact. If we hadn’t gotten back together, I wouldn’t have thought better for myself. I would have stayed in the cold darkness of misery, have given up on myself, but at least she would have been safe. I would have never quit the gang, and she would have never come after me because I didn’t fucking trust her. She wouldn’t have a bullet wound in her chest.
“Fuck.” I groan and lean against the tile wall, rolling my tense muscles as the hot water pounds against my skin.
I’m opening old wounds, but I can’t help it; it’s true. If I had ignored my feelings and heart, I could have saved her a lifetime of suffering. That bullet puncturing her lung, her pneumonectomy, the nightmares, the hallucinations—everything is my damn fault. Liv didn’t deserve getting hurt, and she doesn’t deserve the suffering she’s going through now. What she deserves is a happily ever after. Days spent with joyful laughter. Not nights spent in the hospital with a fucking tube in her chest.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I curse as I step out, legs wobbly, head pounding. Red, hot anger flashes rapidly behind my eyes. I twist the sink on and splash water on my face. I am still hot, feeling like fire is ripping through my insides. I grip the sink and take a few deep breaths. My girl is suffering because of me. “Fuck!” I am not helping!
I rip open the
cabinet and stare at my medication.
Take them and you’ll feel better, a reasonable voice whispers in my head.
“Just one.” I roll my eyes. Liv would be so proud. Liv. She’s in constant pain. My fault. My fault. I take more than one. Bile forms in my throat, and I end up spitting them all out on the floor. I knock the bottle over as I frantically wash and rub my face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this!”
I can’t be here right now. I got myself into a really shitty situation again. I am risking getting the girl I love more than anything in this fucked-up world in trouble again. All because I’m a dumb fuck that just loves to fuck everything up.
Frustrated and heart pumping wildly, a mental breakdown forming between my icy veins and shaky hands, I quickly get dressed and pack a few things. I have to get away for a while. Fight a little, or a lot. I just…I need to take care of this bomb inside of me, away from Liv. I’m going to explode, and I’d hate myself more than I do right now if she got hurt. I write a quick letter. A week? I just wrote down the first thing I thought. Maybe I do need a week, maybe less, or more? I don’t fucking know, but I need time. I’ll explain to her later.
I drive around, not knowing where I’ll go or what I’ll do, before coming up with some kind of plan. I drive downtown, feeling guilty as shit as I pass by the place Liv works. I pull up at the location and snag a parking spot, lucky as shit. There’s almost never any parking downtown.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Red sneers as I enter the bar. She’s behind the bar, scrubbing down the counter. She looks miserable in general, but when I walk in, it’s like I pissed in her favorite bowl of Frosted Flakes.
“Listen, I know you’re still mad at me about the fight—” I begin, holding up my hands.
“You’re damn right I’m still mad,” she snaps, looking like she wants to physically claw my eyes out. “You caused a damn riot, you fucking asshole!”
Grey: New Beginnings (Spectrum Series Book 5) Page 23