Grey_The Infatuation Page 12

“I’m not going anywhere, Grey. I care for you so much, you have no idea. And I would never leave you. But you have to tell me more. Please…”

  He’s silent for a ridiculous amount of time. If he doesn’t tell me more right now, I don’t see a plausible future for us. And I want there to be more for us, but he’s just so goddamn closed down. It will be our ruin. Why can’t he understand that I don’t want us to break apart? That I want more. Something solid between us. Without solidification, we’re just two ghosts trying to touch another, only to find our hands falling through our bodies.

  Maybe he needs a little push from me. If he’s so hesitant and afraid I’ll leave him because of his dark past, then I’ll him know more about me.

  “After my brother died…I felt as if I wasn’t able to function anymore,” I tell him and feel my chest constrict. He looks at me but doesn’t say anything, but he rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. “I was very protective over him. I loved him. So when I couldn’t save him…it hit me—hard. And with the nightmares that haunted me every single night, I was so distraught that I—that I—I tried to take my own life.” I break down crying, and he instantly wraps his arms around me.

  I can still replay every moment of that day. Two years had passed, and my mother pushed me ten times harder with schoolwork and piano lessons and tutoring; it sent me over the edge. I wasn’t able to rest without that night plaguing my fractured mind. I had just woken up from a nap, screaming for my mother, only to find Louise rocking me back and forth. My mother was in Australia for some medical conference.

  I decided that day I wouldn’t be reminded of my greatest nightmare and took all of my pills that were supposed to help with the night terrors, but they never did and still never do anything. Louise caught me in time, though, and I was put on anti-depressants. But I got off of them last year when the doctor decided I was better.

  However, lately, the nightmares have sort of stopped coming. And I know it’s because of this complex boy holding me. He’s become my ultimate drug. He fights the pain, and I don’t want to lose him. I’ve become addicted to the euphoria he gives me. But it’s not the only reason why I love him. I love him because he makes me feel whole again.

  “I’ve had to visit the hospital three other times during the years for my night terrors. But they have stopped because of you, Grey, when you’re by my side. Without you I am reminded of that night and how much I was lost,” I tell him, my voice splintering with each word until he hugs me tighter and hushes me.

  “I’m really sorry, Princess. I—I didn’t know.” He sounds just as broken as I feel. I just nod and close my eyes, soaking in the euphoria I mentioned earlier.

  We stay this way for what feels like an eternity, until he lets out a breath that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise and sits back. He holds my hands, and I watch in amusement as he plays with a charm on my bracelet.

  “Where did you get this from?” he asks, his voice small like a child’s.

  I take a deep breath and smile at the silver jewelry that shines in the moonlight. “My father got it for me.” I swallow and recall how quickly enchanted I was with the jewels. “I was doing well in school and had just received a standing ovation for my ballerina recital. He came home one day and rewarded me with it.” I smile remembering how I ran around showing the charms off to everyone in the house.

  He examines every charm with a look of fascination before he stops at one. “This one has a J on it,” he says with confusion. We lock eyes, and it clicks for him. “For Jonah…your brother.”

  I nod and run my thumb across his, the charm pinched between his thumb and index finger. “My father added it after his funeral…” Tears form at the corners of my eyes. This is why I don’t talk much about Jonah or the accident to a therapist or anyone. I always end up crying like a baby.

  “My mother has personality bipolar disorder,” he suddenly says. I don’t say a word. He’s staring at the floor. “It’s why I am the way I am, hereditary shit and all…she blames me for my father’s death because I was a terrible person. I fought constantly, took drugs, drank—about all the worst things you could think of, really. And I stressed my father out like you wouldn’t believe. He was always trying to get me to do better and telling me I wouldn’t get anywhere unless I stopped doing dumb shit. And when my mother found him face down at the kitchen table that morning…she instantly blamed me and kicked me out without any hesitation.”

  He stops, and I notice the formation of tears in his eyes. I’ve never seen him this distressed before. It somehow makes him seem more…human. Like before he’s just been a fiery ball of sarcasm and pent-up anger.

  “David was twenty at the time, but he and I were good friends since we saw each other at the same parties. We just got along easily. When he heard about what happened, he took me under his wing, and we moved here because he wanted to open up his gym out of our shitty town.” He pauses. “I can still see the look of snapped sanity in my mother’s eyes. And the hatred…it was unreal. Deep down I knew she was right. I killed my father.”

  His words crack like glass until they are nothing but tiny fragments, and so is he. He breaks down into tears, and I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my face into his neck. His body shakes, and the smell of whiskey on his clothes wrap around me as his arms do.

  “Lay back,” I instruct, and he does. I lay my head against his chest, which rises and falls like a rickety boat, crumbling down against the rough tides. “Your father’s death was not your fault.”

  “And neither was your brother’s,” he says.

  I stay silent and look up to find he has his eyes closed. He’s stopped crying, but the tears of sorrow still cling to his golden skin. They almost glisten like diamonds. I stare at him in fascination and almost miss him speaking.

  “You make me feel sane,” he croaks. He’s falling asleep. I snuggle up closer to him and twirl a piece of his dark hair.

  Before he can go under, I kiss his warm skin and whisper, “And you make me feel alive.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Jonah?” I call out.

  I am dressed in the same light-blue dress I wore the night of the accident. But I’m not on the road, where my nightmares usually take place. I’m standing in a room that looks awfully familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  Maybe the accident didn’t happen. Maybe we came here instead. The fire that rages on in front of me comforts me in a way. It sends goosebumps up my arms and sends a relieved smile to crawl across my face. We made it…

  Hearing footsteps behind me, I whip around with a hopeful smile, thinking it’s my parents and Jonah. Instead, I find Grey.

  “Grey? What are you doing here?” I’m confused. Why is he here? He doesn’t say anything, and I look at him. “Oh my god. Y-you’re hurt.” Blood stains his shirt, but I don’t see a wound. “Where are you bleeding?” I ask frantically. Why the hell isn’t he speaking?

  I rush over to him, but I hit an invisible wall.

  “I don’t understand—” I can feel my blood stop when he raises his hand.

  In his palm is a bloody, dripping heart. His heart.

  “Why did you do this to me?” he croaks.

  “What? No, no. Grey,” I try to scream and reach for him, but he backs away. Tears swell his eyes as they have to me also.

  “GREY!” I scream on the top of my lungs.

  “Grey!” I scream, writhing like a fish out of water. My hands are outstretched for him, but I clutch nothing but the air. I frantically pat the empty sheets on either side of me. He’s gone. I killed him. I killed the man I love. “Come back! I didn’t mean to! Grey!” I’m crying now, and I’m choking on my words.

  “Hey, hey—I’m right here. Calm down.” The bed dips with weight, and my face meets warmth. I am encased with large arms wrapped around me. I instantly wrap my arms around him and hug him back even tighter.

  I open my eyes, and they connect with his black ones. They are wide and mirror my panic. He’s here. He’
s not bleeding. He’s okay. He’s not bleeding. “Of course I’m not bleeding.” He laughs and rubs my back soothingly.

  I close my eyes and hold him for dear life. I thought he was gone. It felt so real. What the hell was that? Was it a warning? I have so many questions and so many thoughts going on. I can’t focus on just one. All I can do is hold him tighter and breathe in his familiar scent of cigarettes and dark chocolate. An unusual mixture, but it’s him, and it’s become my absolute favorite thing to smell.

  When my heart settles, I pull back but keep my hands on him. They roam his black t-shirt-clothed chest, and I breathe a “Thank God,” smiling softly when I find nothing but a firm chest. No blood. My hands are shaking like I’ve been electrocuted. I really thought I lost him.

  “Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks with a confused expression.

  “Where were you?” I ignore his question. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes flick down to his hands, then at a wall. Why is he acting so shy? I look down at his lap and tilt my head in confusion. There is a little silver box in his lap. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it’s an engagement ring…“Grey?” He is known for being reckless and kind of insane.

  “I’m not going to be here the whole of next month,” he says and holds up the small box. My heart can be heard a mile away, I’m sure of it. He flips the top open, and I’m shocked and relieved it’s not a ring. We are much too young for that. And this…this is much better, in a way. “I’ll be away fighting and building my ranks for the summer fight I told you about. You know, the one that’ll help me become a pro, so I, uh, got you this.”

  It’s a silver heart-shaped charm with an engraved G. He flips it over, and I feel my heart stop. On the back it reads: Princess, you are my middle ground. Love, G.

  I think I’m going to cry.

  “Do you not like it?” I look at him through my lashes and smile as he scratches the back of his neck, his face pink. “I can change it. Or get a different color? Or maybe—”

  I lean forward and smash my lips against his, shutting him up. He instantly smiles into it the same time I do, and I feel my love for him grow infinitely. He grips my hips and shifts so I am on my back. I wind my fingers through his hair and pull him closer. I glide my tongue against his and soak in every toxin that lingers on it. Sparks of fire bloom between our bodies, but he pulls away before we can go any further.

  He pants and smiles at me. “Does that mean you like it?”

  I smile back and kiss him for a while, enjoying the taste of his lips before whispering, “I love it. Thank you.” He sits and pulls me up. His arms wrap around me, and I laugh when he makes a little raspberry in my neck. I giggle and push him away. He laughs. I sigh and brush a piece of his dark hair back. “I wish I knew you were leaving. I would have gotten you something too.” It kind of hurts that he would tell me this now, but at least he told me at all.

  He shrugs and, caressing my bare thigh, says, “Your lips are enough, trust me. That, among other things.” His hand slides up my shorts, and I narrow my eyes playfully. He laughs and kisses just under my chin. I close my eyes briefly and peck his lips. As he smiles up at me, I soak in the sight of this beautiful man, wondering how the hell I got him.

  He helps me attach the new charm to my bracelet. My heart nearly bursts from love at the sight of the silver charm meeting the sunlight entering the room through the blinds.

  “Have you considered changing your mind?” I ask.

  He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to face my mother, not just yet.” He pauses. His face tightens when he asks, his voice low, “I hope that isn’t a deal breaker for you.”

  I shake my head frantically and take a deep breath. “No, I respect your decision.” He smiles at me in appreciation before leaning up to try to kiss my lips, but I hold up a finger. “What about you come home with me for Thanksgiving?” I blurt out and assess his facial expression. Slack, slightly confused, and…dare I say it…amused? But not in a mocking way. A way that gives me my answer before he even opens his mouth.

  I know I told my mother off and said I wasn’t coming, but I am not spending this holiday without some type of family. And maybe if we can get through this one, we can get through others together…

  “Are you planning to propose to me in front of your family?” He gasps and reels back, hand against chest and eyelashes batting like a butterfly’s wing. “That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.”

  “Grey,” I whine and interlock my fingers with his. He usually caves in when I do this. I lean forward and press my nose against his soft neck. He sighs and pulls away. I frown and watch as he pulls his hand away, rubbing the back of his neck with it.

  “I don’t think it’s the best idea,” he says seriously.

  “Why not?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  He scoffs and says, “Your hell-hound for a mother is one reason. And I’m not exactly sure the rest of your folks will appreciate me either…” He sounds so hurt, but he tries to mask it with a chuckle and a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It’s better if I just stay here. I have a fight that day, anyway.”

  I wait for him to laugh and say he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “There is no way I’m letting you stay here and fight on Thanksgiving. The day is about family getting together, not seeing who can throw the best punches.” I frown. “I really want you to come with me. It’d mean a lot to me.”

  “I can come with you right now,” he mumbles sexually.

  I roll my eyes but let the smile spread over my face. “Not like that, you pervert.” I knock my knee against his, and he does it back. I giggle and sit across his lap, taking his face in my hands.

  I lay my forehead against his and whisper, “I really, really would love for you to come to my hometown for Thanksgiving, with me, Grey. We don’t even have to interact with my mother. We’ll stay clear of her. I just—I just want you with me. Plus, I’ve already told my grandmother about you, and she wants to meet you, so…” I trail and raise my eyebrows. How can he say no to my gammie?

  He doesn’t reply but stares into my eyes for a long time. My stomach ties into boat ties, and my face has become flushed with anxiety. If anything, I want him to come just to avoid fighting on a day like Thanksgiving. It breaks my heart knowing that he hasn’t spoken to his mother in so long and has been breaking his knuckles and bruising all by himself. I think I’m crying on the inside, but I must stay strong on the outside so he can see how serious I am about wanting him with me.

  “Okay.” It’s not very audible, but I hear it, and I nearly flip.

  “Really?” I press my hands harder and laugh when he glares at me. “Sorry…” I drop my hands but can’t help but press a finger in one of his dimples, shaking excitedly. “You’re coming with me for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes.” He nods hesitantly, and his eyes grow hooded and are swimming with lust as he grips my hips before flipping me onto my back. “And right now, in fact.”

  “Grey!” I squeal.

  He chuckles like the mischievous man he is and crashes his lips against mine.

  Perfect.

  “Wait.” He suddenly pulls back. “Why did you wake up screaming like Freddy Krueger was going to get you?”

  I look into his eyes and cup his face, lightly brushing my thumb against his growing facial hair. “It was just a nightmare.” He gives me a look, and I give in. “Fine, I—you were there and—and I thought I killed you.”

  He looks at me incredulously then breaks into laughter. “You thought you killed me? How? You’re not some psychopath, are you? Because that’d be the perfect plot for a Lifetime movie.” He narrows his eyes and drops his voice into a lower octave. “Seemingly sweet, innocent Olivia Westerfield fights her desire to fall for mystery bad boy, ripping out his heart.”

  My smile drops at his words, and I look to the ground.

  “What is it? What’d I say?” he asks and tilts my head back to meet his glossy
black eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I falter with my words and end up croaking out, “Do you trust me?”

  His eyebrows knit together, and he grins. “Of course I do. Why are you asking that?”

  I smile and shrug. “No reason.” He looks confused, but I lean forward and connect my lips with his. His confusion fades, and desire takes over.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wednesday comes faster than I thought it would. The days fly by, with me scrambling to pack, making sure I had everything I needed, and stressing over how my family will react to Grey. I already know how my mother will act, but not my other family members.

  A small part of me wished Grey in fact wore loafers and cardigans and told corny jokes and was a part of the local baseball team, but I shot that part of me down and loathed myself for even thinking it in the first place. I like Grey the way he is now. He shouldn’t have to conform into something they will appreciate, because I don’t want him to change.

  He may be a condescending asshole with terrible judgment sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be sickly sweet and funny. He’s like a bittersweet taffy. And boy, do I have a sweet tooth for him. May be bad for my teeth, but the way he makes me feel is completely worth it.

  I check my suitcase one last time. My eyes scan over every single item. I look at the list in my hands and check everything off.

  “Iron pills? Check. Sleeping pills? Check. Birth control? Check. Underwear?” I use my pen to lift the cardigans on top and eye the lacy underwear and bras. Blushing, I drop the cardigans and make a check on the list. “Check.”

  “You have checked that list five hundred times, Liv,” Grey whines behind me. “Santa isn’t even as meticulous as you, and the fucker has to fly around the world. I’m sure you have everything you need.”

  “There isn’t anything wrong with making sure,” I tell him, crossing off nightgowns. I tap the end of my pen against each item, then spin around to find him laying on Julia’s bed with a pillow covering his face. “Do you have everything you need?” I ask him as I flip the page of my planner.