Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3) Read online

  “That guy’s kind of weird. You had weird taste in friends.”

  “No kidding,” I say as I pull on the shirt and link my arm through his. “And I still do, apparently.” I playfully poke his cheek, and he gasps and hip-bumps me. I do it right back, and he laughs.

  ***

  I wish I’d asked Mason to grab me a sweater too. It’s later in the day, and the sun dropped, along with the temperature. Families speed back to their beach homes and vendors on the boardwalk close up shop. The slight wind sends my loose hair swirling into the air, and it tickles the back of my neck. If I’m wishing for things, I also wish I hadn’t suggested ice cream. To be fair, at the time, it was blazing hot. But as we walked and stopped along the way to play a few games lining the walk, it grew colder, and my promise remained upheld.

  I cross my arms and look around absentmindedly. Mason is inside getting our orders while I am waiting on our Uber. I have no desire to walk back in this weather. It’s a good thing the nights will grow warmer as summer settles in, enough for people to enjoy what the night life has to offer.

  My phone buzzes and, thinking it’s the Uber driver notifying me of his arrival, I answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Liv, hey.” It’s Noah.

  “Hey, Noah? What’s up?” Why is he calling me? I’m not trying to sound rude; I’m just curious. Even more so wondering how he got my number in the first place.

  “You have anything planned for tonight?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes at the ground. Why is he asking?

  “No, why?” I reply.

  “There’s this party down by the docks. It’s supposed to be amazing. Live band, max space, drugs—”

  “Doesn’t sound like my type of thing.” I stop him right there. I am done with parties like that. I’d much rather curl up on the couch watching Dirty Dancing and eating ice cream with Mason. “Maybe some other time—” I trail off when my eyes land on something supernatural across the street.

  Grey.

  Dark, unkempt hair, towering muscular structure, countless dark tattoos—all indicators of the man I fell for and ultimately broke. My heart skips a beat, and I nearly drop my phone to the ground and run into his arms without looking for on-coming traffic. He’s here. It’s him. I can’t believe…

  But then he turns around, and my heart breaks.

  It isn’t him. The man is much more muscular, like a body builder, and he’s wearing a rugged red baseball cap and has patchy facial hair. How could I have thought he was Grey? I guess I saw past his bulkiness and the cap and just saw the dark clothes and boots and saw…him. My mind conjured him up to play tricks with me. To emphasize my need to move the hell on.

  “Hello? Liv? You still there?” Noah’s voice yanks me into reality.

  “Huh? Umm…yes. I’m here. Sorry.” I turn from the man entering some shoe store and pinch my nose bridge. “You were saying something about a party?”

  “Yeah, but you said it wasn’t your thing—” he starts, and I glance at the shop the man disappeared into.

  “Never mind that. Are you picking me up or…?”

  He tells me the time of the party and that he’ll bring me. I ask if I can bring Mason, and he says of course.

  I hang up and stare at the concrete, tapping my foot and chewing on my lip. I find myself staring at the shop and wondering what if? What if that was Grey? What would I have done? Would I have run up to him and thrown my arms around him? Breathe in his scent of cigarettes, dark chocolate, and oranges? What would I have even said? The biggest question I am afraid to ask is: what would he have done…?

  Chapter Two

  “Tell me again why we’re trusting this guy you barely remember, despite the fact that the last time he saw you he shoved live worms down your dress,” Mason quips as he stares at me. I feel his eyes on me as I slip on a brown leather jacket over a simple white blouse. I make sure my skinny jeans are zipped up and glance down at my brown leather heel boots. I walk around in circles, examining the outfit until I am satisfied. Though I nearly fall over because of the shoes. Nice, I comment to myself, and face Mason, who faces me on my bed, leaning on his elbow.

  “Because I want to actually enjoy the summer,” I tell him for the tenth time, and wobble over to the vanity. I really have to practice walking in these things; they give me three more inches to my already under-average height. As I sit down in the pristine white chair, I add, “Plus, I haven’t seen him in a long time. It’d be nice to catch up on things.” Last I heard, he and his family moved to Portland. I guess his mother grew tired of the cold and was desperate for sunlight and fled here. Wrong move.

  “Oh, yes, because it’d be so easy to catch up with someone during a raging party,” Mason says sarcastically, and I roll my eyes. He sits up and arches his eyebrows. I watch him through the little mirror on my right as I apply some lip gloss to my semi-dry lips. “Sometimes I forget how naïve you are.”

  “How am I naïve?” I ask, kind of offended.

  He looks at me dubiously. “He obviously wants to get in your pants.”

  “Oh, because it’s so obvious.” I raise my eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes.

  “Fine, but don’t come running to me when he makes a move on you.”

  “He won’t,” I assure Mason. If Noah does try something, I’ll just have to let him down. I’m not ready to date, not yet at least. But I doubt he’s using tonight to try anything with me anyway. We’re just old friends.

  My phone buzzes across the table as I curl the ends of my hair. I pick it up and see Noah’s name flash across the screen. He texts me that he’s outside, and I reply, telling him we’re on our way now.

  “Time to find out,” Mason says. I nod and finish curling the last piece of my hair.

  No matter what happens with Noah, I truly just want to have fun tonight. Without him on my mind.

  “One can hope,” I mutter to myself, anxiously running my fingers through the curls, making them shimmy side to side against my back.

  “What was that?” Mason asks.

  Plastering on a smile and taking his hand to help me stand, I say, “Nothing. Let’s go have fun.”

  ***

  “Are you having fun, yet?” I scream over the horrendous pop music that has been blasting for an hour straight. I’m ten feet from the music setup, yet I can hear and feel every single beat drop and the jittery beat. The purple alcoholic drink in my hand isn’t all that strong, but I guess the flavor is pleasant enough. I look around at the room filled with late teens, dressed in bright colors and dancing like they’ve been electrocuted. Five times. Without any breaks. Cotton candy lasers roam the room, and alternating colored dance floors decorate the room. Even if I haven’t attended many different parties in my life, I know this is tragic.

  “No, not at all,” Mason answers, nearly bursting my already bruised eardrum. “Feel like slipping out of here and—” I lose him after a while; the music seems to have gotten louder, if possible.

  “Sorry, what?” I yell and narrow my eyes as I watch him scream his reply. Again, I don’t catch what he says. “What did you say?”

  He begins to scream but stops and lets out a breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

  That I caught.

  “Okay.” I nod and scan the room filled with neon gyrating bodies. “But we have to tell Noah first.”

  “We don’t have to,” he whines and rolls his eyes when I give him a look. “Must you always be kind and considerate?” He says it like it’s a bad thing.

  Chuckling at his frown, I poke his cheek, and he swats my hand away. Adorable. After looking around for a bit, I spot Noah in the middle of the multi-colored dance floor, dancing with some short blonde girl. Shaking my head and slipping into James Bond mode, I grip Mason’s hand and begin weaving through the crowd.

  “Dude, we’re ready to go,” Mason says before I can even open my mouth.

  Noah turns to us, and the blonde scoffs and scurries over to her friends. “What? Why?”

  “We
aren’t having any fun,” I answer him. And this place kind of sucks.

  “We’re just here for the pre-game,” he shouts over the music. Mason and I share a look, and he laughs. “You know, to pump ourselves up for the rest of the night. For the actual, real party.” His eyes fall on a girl’s butt in a skin-tight dress that makes my eyes burn as she passes by us, sending him a wink, which he returns with a curt nod and a wicked grin. “And the ladies. Tragic taste in fashion, but up for tasting a bit of me, if you know what I mean.”

  He nudges Mason, and Mason looks at me with a shared disgusted look before stepping back and saying, “Yeah, we don’t like this. So, we’re gonna go—”

  “No, stay,” Noah pleads like a puppy and downs the drink in his hand. “There’s another party just down the street. That’s the big place. Just give me a few. I’ll meet you out front.” He winks at us and follows after the blonde before either Mason or I could do anything.

  We exit the fruity club, catch each other’s disgusted expressions, and laugh. I lean into his side, and he laughs harder. I nearly double over in laughter. Noah is still quite weird, as he was as a child. But harmless in the sense that he hasn’t come on to me, like Mason thought he would. Told you so, I sing in my head, but shut up when Noah joins us, proudly waving the blonde’s number written on a dirty napkin.

  Mason and I roll our eyes simultaneously.

  “Follow me to the fun!” Noah howls and hoots as we begin down the lively sidewalk. People and tourists sporting beers and visors, despite it being night time, woot back, and I nearly burst in complete laughter. But Mason doesn’t hold back and follows along as I mentally prepare myself for “the real” party tonight.

  We near a line of tall, unmarked buildings, but one has colorful strobe lights flashing through the ratty windows. A bouncer looks us over but, using his questionable but certified charm, Noah gets us in. The moment we step through the door, I feel my blood drain from my face and levitate into my cheeks with a snap of the bass drop kicking in the music. The music is loud, but not deafening like the others, and there is much more space. To my left, there is a busy bar with girls using their cleavage to get free drinks and a massive pit of grinding, more mature, bodies in front of us.

  “Follow me!” Noah instructs, and Mason and I follow. Squeezing past two guys wearing snapbacks, he orders six shots.

  “Whoa, two?” Mason questions, accepting his two.

  “I’m agreeing with him on this,” I say, hesitantly accepting mine.

  Noah accepts his after throwing down twenty bucks to the bartender, who lets out a gruff and turns to his next foolish young customers. “Oh, come on, you squares. It’s summer break. Have a little fun. Actually, have a lot of fun. You know, before school starts and the urge to blow your brains out returns.”

  I glance at Mason, who shrugs as if to say, What can you do? But Noah is right…partially. School does start back in three months, and I want to forget about the past and live in the moment right now. I already have my mother despising everything I do that isn’t in her plan, so why not go all out and have fun? Be a young adult who doesn’t have to plan her entire life right now?

  “Screw it,” I say and down one shot, nearly setting my lungs ablaze. How do people drink these without dying? I guess I’ll find out soon enough…

  “Slow down, Livvy. Together this time.” Noah laughs, and I do too, and cringe.

  “Livvy?” Mason questions and jokingly nudges me.

  I whine.

  “He used to call me that when we were kids,” I explain to Mason, pointing a finger at Noah with a scowl. “Don’t make that name a thing. Okay?”

  He raises his hands with a devilish smirk that makes me flush. “Got it, Liv…vy.”

  I nearly lunge at him but end up laughing and raising my shot. “I’ll get you later, but this right now. Here’s to having a good night!”

  We each down our shots and mirror disgusted faces.

  “Now, let’s go dance,” Noah hollers and, naturally, receives hollers back.

  I hold Mason’s hand and squeeze through the tight dance floor until we find a somewhat aired-out spot, enough for us to dance without getting elbowed in the face. I can only imagine that happening and waking up in the hospital with my mother shaking her head in disappointment over my hospital bed. I shake my head as if to get her out and hold Mason’s hands as we bounce and jump to the electronic music. I can feel the energy sizzle through my veins and coat my hips. I sway them from side to side and bump shoulders with Noah playfully. He waves his fingers at me like a doofus, and I laugh and lay a hand on his shoulder as I do. Wow, is this liquor getting to me.

  My hand disconnects with Mason, and when I look over to see if I lost him in the crowd, I smile happily, finding him dancing with an attractive dark-haired girl. He looks over his shoulder with the funniest confused but content expression and almost apologetic. But I shake my head and wave my hands at him, telling him to go and have fun. Reluctantly, he nods and grasps the girl’s hips before she pulls him away into the crowd. I watch them dance for a bit before facing Noah, who is one of the worst dancers I have ever encountered in my life. But it’s not like I’m any better.

  I laugh and shimmy my shoulder, mimicking my grandmother, proving my point that I am a terrible dancer. He laughs, and I examine the way his green eyes sparkle under the white lights in the high ceiling, and the little crater in his left cheek grow wider the bigger he smiles. I feel his hands on mine, but I don’t move them. It feels weird to have someone else’s hands on me in this way. I became so attached to his on mine that it’s going to take some getting used to another’s. And this is what I need. To move on and start fresh. No strings attached. I put my hands on his shoulders and continue to shake my hips and bop my head around.

  He takes my hand, flashes me with a mischievous smile, and spins me out and back into his chest. I giggle a vodka-induced giggle when he does it, and again, and again until I am dizzy and lolling my head from side to side. Spinning into his chest, I close my eyes and burst into the greatest fit of laughter, and he does too. It vibrates through me and leaves me breathless, almost hunching for breath.

  Opening my eyes, I look over his shoulder with a sickening feeling. You know, that feeling that something bad is about to happen and there’s no stopping it? I try to figure out why exactly I am feeling this way and squint my eyes. All I can see are shadows, sweat-covered limbs moving in the strobe lights, and closed eyes. But then I look really closely. I tighten my hold on Noah and feel my stomach twist like a drain pipe, even before I see it…before I see…him.

  Grey.

  And I’m not hallucinating this time.

  There he is in the middle of the dance floor, grinding sexually against an Asian girl, her head flung back, eyes closed. He looks so primal. So in the zone as he caresses her chest and holds her up so she doesn’t fall over. Girls surround him and dance on him like he is some sort of god. With the way he’s grinning from ear to ear and allowing them to touch and caress his sweaty, large biceps, you’d think he was one.

  I want to back away and erase the image from my brain, but I can’t, for four simple reasons.

  My eyes connected with his.

  His connected with mine.

  His hand went up the girl’s dress; she opened her mouth in pleasure.

  And he smiled.

  Chapter Three

  “I have to get some air,” I tell Noah with a shaky breath. I tear my eyes away and land them on his emerald green eyes. He looks me up and down with concern, but I smile widely and pull back slightly. “I’m fine, I’m fine—I just—I just have to—” My words are frantic, and I am trying so hard not to break down on the dance floor. Not only will I look like a madwoman, but he’ll see, and I refuse to let him. Especially after what I just witnessed.

  “Are you all right? Want me to get you some water or—” He looks truly worried as he holds my shoulders. Green eyes soft and wide, he scours my face for any indication of the reason I nee
d to step out, but he can’t possibly see that I’ve been terribly blind-sided by the man I broke and loved all at the same time. I really hate myself. I wish I could take everything I did back. Every. Single. Day.

  I shake my head, snap back into reality, and step back. The music is becoming too much. I can feel memories flooding and taking my breath away, leaving me reeling. “I’ll—I’ll be back,” I mumble and turn away. He calls after me, but I quickly weave through the lively crowd, barely escaping elbows to the face and getting knocked over. The front is much too far for me to reach, and I need fresh air—now. I end up stumbling through the crowd, finding a back entrance that leads to an alleyway.

  I throw myself outside and lean against one of the dark, misty walls. I press my hands against the bricks before turning and clutching my stomach. I attempt to grab one thought of the millions that roam my head to cool my overwhelmed nerves. My emotions are out of whack, and the memories just keep coming and coming, smacking me from left and right. I can’t keep up with them.

  I did not expect to see him ever again. He basically dropped off the face of the earth without a trace or even a returned phone call. So seeing him in there like…that. The dancing was erotic, and the girls were a little excessive, it looked like a cesspool of disaster, but it wasn’t even that what upsets me. It’s the fact that he’s popped up out of the blue and thrown me off balance. I was so close to moving on…not really, but I was accepting the idea of it.

  What I want to know most is: why is he here? I thought he didn’t want to see me ever again. How is it that he just popped up here, the very night I am here? I thought he was supposed to be fighting? And college, did he ever even finish? I know he was doing well in his classes and was a few months from graduating, but would they have let him just leave? I have so many questions that I doubt will ever be answered, seeing as he hates me. It makes me literally sick to my stomach thinking that he hates me, but he has a great reason to—I betrayed him.