by Ivy Fox
Yes.
The only way I can be truly whole is to have their love—all three of them. Each one already holds a piece of my heart, and like it or not, they always will. Luckily, it’s not my heart calling the shots. Rome may have glued it back together, but when it comes to Ollie and Ash, they still have a lot of broken pieces to mend. And while my head lives in doubt, my heart won’t give in.
If it’s wrong, then there is nothing that will ever fix me.
While I shuffle my Caesar salad around the plate with my fork, these thoughts run rampant through my mind, until Elle calls out a name I’ve been repeating nonstop in my head.
“You lost, Ollie?” I hear her say, still in attack mode when it comes to the twins.
Ever since we found them fighting in the hallway, and Elle witnessed my torment first hand, they’ve been on her shitlist. And one thing I’ve discovered is that being the bearer of Elle’s cold shoulder is not fun. Not in the least. Unless, of course, you’re Saint and get your kicks out of it.
“No, lil sis. I’m not lost at all.” Ollie smiles widely, his lunch tray in his hand as he greets Chad and Saint with a nod. He then throws his gorgeous smile my way, leaving me even more flustered.
“Are you sure? You don’t have lunch period at this hour. Did you knock your head a few too many times on the slopes that you can’t tell time anymore? Is that it, Ollie?” she taunts, the cocky Grayson smile plastered to her face.
Instead of her snide comment unnerving Ollie, he just lets out a chuckle and another glowing smile.
Dear mother of God, make him stop.
Seriously, that carefree smile is going to be the end of me.
“I just shuffled some classes around, that’s all. Now I have the same lunch period as you. Great, right?” he counters cheerfully, grabbing the chair on my left side as Saint is already seating on the one to my right.
Elle’s eyes begin to roll in disproval when she sees Ollie getting comfortable at our lunch table.
“Hi.” He offers me a sweet smile, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.
“Hi,” I stutter foolishly, feeling the blush starting to rise and wishing I had some way to make my crimson cheeks less noticeable.
We’re both still locked in each other’s stare when I hear someone clear their throat at the head of the table. When I turn around and see Ash trying to grab our attention, my heart does another double-take.
“Oh, fuck my life! You, too? Let me guess? Like Ollie, you shuffled some classes to have lunch period now, huh?” Elle criticizes.
Ash looks at his twin and gives him a crooked grin.
“Guess great minds think alike.” He shrugs unapologetically.
“Jesus! Fine! Just sit down already,” Elle hollers, looking none too pleased that her brothers decided to hijack our lunch hour.
“Saint, think I can have your seat?” Ash asks.
Without lifting his face from the plate, Saint shakes his head and replies, “Not really in the mood to do you any favors, Grayson.” He then swallows down a big bite of his, or better yet, Chad’s hamburger.
Since I’ve started having lunch with them, I’ve never seen Saint actually buy any food, always grabbing whatever Chad has at his disposal. It took me a day or two to see that the blond, green-eyed boy always bought enough food to feed an army. After watching Saint eat, I understood why Chad needed the extra helpings. After all, he was buying food for two.
My eyes are still locked on Ash, wondering what he’ll do in regards to Saint’s rebuttal. Before his little stint in therapy, the hothead would have used Saint’s quip to start a fight. But as I watch Ash breathe in and out, his face calm as a cool summer’s breeze, something tells me to expect the unexpectable.
“You’re right.” He huffs out. “I guess I have been kind of a dick lately.”
“You think,” Elle mumbles under her breath, refusing to look up at her brother.
“But if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like to sit next to my girl, if you don’t mind. Please?”
Just like me, Saint lifts his head in total astonishment. Ash saying ‘please’ for anything is unheard of. And the thing that’s even more remarkable, it’s the sincerity of his request, perfectly displayed on his serene face. I don’t even want to focus on the way he just said I am his girl. It’s best I concentrate on one bombshell at a time. At least for my own sanity.
“You coming back to practice, or are you going to blow it off again?” Saint snaps, his tattooed arms crossed over his large chest.
Everyone knows that tattoos are a big no-no at Pembroke High. The rule is—you can have them as long as you don’t flaunt them. But Saint doesn’t give a crap. He rolls his white sleeves a little below his elbows, showing the elaborated ink that covers both arms, and he also wears his green necktie loose enough for everyone to see the Spanish-styled cross engraved beautifully on his neck.
“I’ll be there. I already talked to Coach this morning about rejoining the team. You can count on me again.”
“That’s debatable, Grayson. But we’ll see if you can make up for going MIA the way you did. We got our asses handed to us a few weeks ago by Truman High. Don’t want a repeat of that shit, you feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you. We good, then?”
“Not even close,” Saint reprimands, getting up from his seat and moving next to Elle, which doesn’t seem to bode well by the look on her face. And to add insult to injury, the first thing Saint does is to steal a fry from her plate, followed by a mischievous wink.
“Don’t take food off of my plate. I don’t know where your hands have been,” she seethes harshly at him, pure venom tainting each word.
“Ah, princess, wouldn’t you like to find out,” he counters back, his pierced tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, playing with the barbell in a way that would have most girls throwing their panties at him. But the look of disgust on Elle’s face demonstrates how immune she is to his sexy aura.
“Great! Now I lost my appetite,” she interjects, pushing her tray away. “Thanks a lot, assholes,” she censures, turning her disgruntlement now on to her brothers. “You just ruined lunch for me. If you want to keep sitting here, you two better behave. You hear me?” she scolds as Ash takes his seat beside me.
Both Ash and Ollie, give her an Aye-Aye-Captain salute and burst out laughing. It warms my heart seeing them together again, even if I am, figuratively and literally, smacked dab in the middle of them.
I know that neither has talked much since their fight. Ash moving to the Murphys’ didn’t help resolve the rift between Ollie and him, but maybe the ice thawed when they went to Aspen on their ski trip. I truly hope so.
The cold chill that permeates the table right now is not coming from our side, but rather from the one across me. Chad and Elle have barely said a word to each other all day, and aside from Saint’s little banter with Ash, he’s been tight-lipped, too. Not that the rebellious boy talks much, but it’s never as noticeable when Chad and Elle fill the silence.
Something definitely happened with them three on that ski trip. I just wish Elle would tell me so I could help her. As much as she tries to conceal it, I recognize the look of heartbreak all too well.
I just can’t point the finger on whose heart was broken? Hers or theirs?
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” I huff out, exasperated, as one of the makeup artists adds more dark goo to my eyelids.
When I asked if it had to be that dark, I was told it would make my eyes pop, enthralling the audience outside with my best feature. Frankly, my eyes are already popping wide quite well enough on their own. Just the idea that I’ll have to walk in four-inch heels while modeling Elle’s designs has them looking large and panicky.
My stomach is churning, my hands are clammy, and my heart is threatening to jump out of my chest. I’m far too nervous to do Elle’s creations any justice. I’m sure I’ll slip and fall. Instead of people being floo
red by the beautiful dresses, it will be my chin hitting the ground—in embarrassment.
I’ve never liked being the center of attention, but somehow, when Elle asked if I would model for her a few months ago, I agreed. I even signed the form consenting to it. I checked, just in case the little firecracker was conning me.
“Because you love me and it’s for a good cause,” she coos, and I watch her reflection smile brightly at me through the mirror. “A lot of people paid top dollar to be here tonight. You don’t want to let them down, do you?” She pouts exaggeratedly, and when my own grin slips out, she knows she’s got me.
I swear, these Graysons play me like a fiddle.
I do have to admit that tonight’s fundraiser is for a good cause. It will offer scholarships to underprivileged kids who had a rough start in life and need a break. Everyone knows that you’ll get a top-notch education at Pembroke High, but most importantly, it will also increase the probability of prestigious colleges offering their own scholarships when the time comes. It was one of the reasons I didn’t put up a fight with my mother about moving to New York and attending Pembroke.
Only recently did Elle let out that Saint was one of those kids who were lucky enough to get a scholarship.
I shudder at the idea of what Saint would be up to now if he didn’t attend this school. It’s not that he’s a bad apple. I’ve spent enough time in his presence to know he’s not. But Saint is no saint either, pun intended. If he was left to his own devices, Lord knows what mischief he’d be into. Gangs, drugs, maybe even murder. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least, given the way he talks about his neighborhood and his family life. Not that he’s a talker.
Even though Elle and Saint have a complicated frenemy thing going on, he’s been nothing but decent to me and, in his own way, he has been my friend.
“Well?” Elle adds, pulling my attention back to her. “Do you want to disappoint those fat-cats who are ready to write big checks, granting the access of many kids to a better education? You don’t, do you?”
“No,” I huff out.
She claps behind me, excited that to hear the answer she wanted.
“Good. Remember, no bra or panties. The lines ruin my babies,” she says, fawning over the white dress on the hanger that I will be wearing last; the one that will end the show and my misery.
“Fine,” I mumble, knowing that I lost this fight long ago.
Elle gives a little nod to the girl applying my makeup, telling her that I’m perfect and ready to put on my first outfit. Luckily, I don’t have to take my clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers. Most of the other models have to share their dressing room, but Elle pulled a few strings and was able to get a room just for me. I guess having the last name Grayson comes with its benefits, after all.
I’m about done when someone knocks on the door and advises me that I have ten minutes before strutting on the catwalk. Thank God that neither Candy nor my grandmother could make it to New York this Christmas and see me like this.
Candy asked if I could come to visit her at Brown over Easter break instead since Xavier invited her to spend Christmas with him in Long Island and meet his parents for the first time. I guess Xavier paid attention to my advice. Those two have been going hot and heavy since this summer, confirming that some summer flings do withstand the colder months. It didn’t surprise me.
The real surprise came from Nana when she called to say she met an Oxford professor on one of her many lectures while in England, and if I wouldn’t mind if she spent the holidays with him. Of course, after I stopped squealing with excitement, I demanded to know everything about her new male friend as she labeled him.
Knowing that both my nana and Candy are happy, makes this holiday period a little more bearable. Christmas, birthdays—any family event really—never meant much to me. Aside from Candy and Nana, I didn’t have much family to start with, so festive seasons weren’t something I enjoyed, especially when my mother and father made an appearance.
Vivienne was never pleased with having to leave the city to spend time with me. And up until I got sick, neither was my father. But in the past few years before his death, he did try to connect with me. And this Christmas, I’m somehow missing him more than I expected. It’s been a year since his suicide, and I wonder—if I hadn’t been so closed off to him, would he still be here today?
Another knock on the door snaps me out of my depressive thoughts, but it’s not followed by the five-minute warning, so I walk over and open it, finding the other reason why this Christmas isn’t so bad. Not bad at all.
Rome looks sinful in his gray sweater, black jeans, and his distinct leather jacket—the one he never parts with. The December snow is already covering the pavement of his beloved city, so a wool coat would be the warmer choice.
“Hi.” I choke, trying hard not to swoon at that familiar look of rebellion in his eyes. He licks his lips as he steps over the threshold and slams the door behind him.
“Oh, no, little liar, I’m going to need a better hello than that.” He smirks devilishly.
Without a minute to waste, his hands take haste in grabbing my ass cheeks, pulling me to him, so we are chest to chest. He takes my mouth in his, and the sweet surrender of his kiss is my undoing. I think I get as lost in Rome’s kiss as I do in his amber eyes—both are hypnotic and get the blood in my veins boiling to the point of insanity.
My arms have already found their home around his neck as he walks me backward until my rear meets the makeup table. Our kiss turns frantic as his hands travel under my dress, grunting when he finds my smooth-skinned pussy, ready and willing for him.
He moans into my mouth, and I open my legs, inviting him to take everything he wants. He bites down hard on my lower lip when a knock on the door reminds me that have to be on stage. I can’t help but grin at his frustration, not that I’m any better.
“Rain check?” I hush, going for another small kiss.
“You better be sitting here with your legs spread open for me, the minute the curtain goes down,” he demands, his golden hues flickering with the fire he’s promising to consume me in.
“I’ll be here,” I taunt, making him chuckle by adding a little flirty wink.
I turn to the mirror, hoping I have enough time to fix my lipstick, and an image of a pissed-off Addison and a smug Trevor pop on its reflection after Rome opens the door.
“Can I help you?” Rome asks, crossing his arms intimidatingly.
Addison doesn’t say a thing, just cuts her eyes at him, releasing a loud scoff from her lips. She turns her back to us, walking away in a tantrum, while Trevor stays for a beat just to throw us both one of his sinister grins. Rome cocks his eyebrow, unimpressed with the football-player physique, making the six-foot-three gorilla retreat and follow Addison.
“I hate that asshole,” Rome grunts under his breath.
“That makes two of us.”
His stare is still peeled to them as they saunter off in haste down the hall, making me rise on the tip of my toes to get his attention.
“Don’t worry about them, okay? Their bark is worse than their bite.”
He leans down until our temples kiss, his shoulders relaxing with each breath he takes, inhaling my essence to cool him down.
“Break a leg, baby.”
“With these shoes, that’s exactly what I’m counting on.”
His warm belly laugh makes an appearance, and I know his temper is long gone. With one more kiss to my forehead, he leaves me ready to face the catwalk. This is the first fashion show that willingly agreed to partake, but surely my last.
To my surprise, it doesn’t go half bad. The lights are so bright that I can hardly see more than the first row of people on each side of the catwalk. I don’t use a lot of my hips like most of the girls in front of me, but that’s mostly because I am really terrified of falling flat on my face as the damned shoes are eating up my feet. Yes, they are prettier than anything I’ve ever owne
d, but give me my comfortable Chucks any day.
With just one last dress to go, I start breathing a little bit easier knowing that I’m almost done and haven’t embarrassed Elle or myself. The white gown she designed is a really gorgeous one—a backless halter top design, which ties to my neck, falling on my body like a second skin.
I wait by the sidelines until the organizer calls out my name to step foot on stage. However, the minute I commence my walk, I begin to feel strange. The lights continue to burn bright on my eyes, but this time they don’t feel like they are meant to brighten the catwalk, but rather blind me fully.
The silk dress feels oddly tight as well as if it’s suffocating me. I feel hands choking me, running down my body when I don’t want them to. My eyes begin to water, and tears I didn’t expect start falling down on my face. My skin feels repulsed by the itchy fabric rubbing itself against my body.
And then I hear a voice.
One that has tormented my dreams and every waking moment.
He’s here.
He’s here.
The monster found me.
And with him, the nightmare of that night.
“Judge Grayson, you startled me,” I confess, jittery and feeling oddly uncomfortable that my mother’s husband has just caught me in my pajamas. He, however, doesn’t seem as perturbed and ignores my statement completely.
“That was such a sad melody for such a beautiful girl,” he whispers, brushing the hair away from my shoulder and onto my back. The intimate way he does it makes the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end, and my reaction is to scoot away from his touch.
“Don’t act all shy with me, Holland. There is no need for that. Not when you’re with me,” he cajoles, eating the small gap of space I had created on the piano bench. “I’m so glad I found you tonight. I was hoping we could get further acquainted with each other. We haven’t had much time to get to know one another, have we?”
His words seem friendly enough, but not his tone. It’s not comforting nor fatherly if that is his intention. I’m not sure if I’m being paranoid since this night has dealt me blow after blow, or if, in fact, I should be cautious.