Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6)

by Allison White

  Justin raises an eyebrow in confusion. A few seconds pass, and then realization settles on his face. “Right. She told me that once when I dropped her off during her first week at the internship.” He glances at me and sweeps a lock of his hair behind his ear; passing girls swoon. “Not much after that.”

  Oh geez, really, Justin?

  “Oh. Is that right?” Grey says, a slow smile making its way onto his face. It’s hard and a charmer, to lure you into false safety, like clever predators do. But once you walk close enough into his trap, he lunges after you and tears your flesh off your bones. Dramatic. But I have no doubt about it. He’d be an excellent predator if people were animals.

  “Justin! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Jasmine squeals behind him.

  His eyes dim, as does his smile, but it happens so quickly you barely notice it. “I better get going, but I’ll see you on the ice.” He turns to Grey, flashes him his charming smile, and nods at him in acknowledgement. “It was so very nice to meet you.”

  Grey merely nods, his smile never faltering once.

  After he’s gone, I turn to Grey and say, “I’m sorry you didn’t come up much. I’ve just been so focused on me. Not in a selfish way, but a deserved way. I do deserve to be taken care of, Grey.”

  “I know.” He nods. Okay. The smile is beginning to really creep me out. Why can’t he just scream at me, accuse me of something? Weirdly, it’s easier than trying to decipher if he’s angry or brimming-hot furious at me.

  “I didn’t mean to wipe you away from my life or anything,” I continue, watching him for some sort of telling reaction. “You mean a lot to me, but when I’m here…I don’t know. It’s like I’m this better version of myself, and I like it.” I smile, watch his brows frown just the slightest, and clear my throat and the smile away. “But that has nothing to do with you at all.”

  “I know,” he says, eyeing my face. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he takes a step back, frowns, and shakes his head as he stalks off in the crowd. I whip around and call his name, but he’s already lost in the mass of people.

  “Grey!” I call after him again.

  Ugh! I definitely don’t like this side of Grey, the side that doesn’t expand on what he’s thinking, feeling. Not knowing what he’s thinking is the most frustrating thing ever. His “I knows” and “okays” are going to drive me insane. I hope this is only temporary and he goes back to breaking things and screaming and grabbing my hands. Honestly, it’s the better option. At least I’d know what he was feeling because he’d say it pretty damn loudly.

  “Yo, get your skates,” Jeremy, a friend of mine from Chemistry class, says, touching my elbow. “We’re going on the ice pretty soon.”

  “All right, wait for me.” I give him a brief smile, then walk over to the booth to rent skates. As I order myself a pair of size sixes, I wonder if Grey really wants to go on the ice or not. I order his size just in case. I can always return them. But my Grey-dar is off the charts. He’s nearby somewhere. Probably scowling at tater tot kids skating on the ice.

  Miraculously, I find him sitting on the bench after ten minutes of searching for him. He’s hunched over in his all black ensemble, sticking out like a sore thumb in the throng of colorful coats and fuzzy boots. My friends have already gone on the ice, but I couldn’t join them without finding and talking to him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I sit next to him. Taking a deep breath, I turn to him and admit in a low whisper, “In all honesty…it’s hard not to think about you. You’re everywhere I look, sometimes literally. You will never fade away from my mind. Even the thought of you sends…sparks through me.” I blush as he lifts his head, staring at me. Like he’s trying to investigate if I’m telling the truth or not.

  “Really?” he says.

  I nod wordlessly. He’s sucked them all away with this look right here. He looks at my lips, then my eyes, then my lips—on repeat, until I’m doing the same.

  “I brought us our skates…” I begin to take his hand when I notice his left one. His knuckles are a bruising purple and black. I scoot closer to him until I’m pressed into his side. “Oh my God! What happened to your hand?” I ask frantically, taking his wrist and examining his bulging knuckles.

  “A little kid got in the way,” he jokes. I glare at his lifted smirk, so he drops it and rubs his already tousled hair with his free, uninjured hand. “Sorry…”

  I smirk at the little blush in his cheeks. “We should ice this,” I tell him, staring at the bruise. I want to kiss it better, but it’d kind of be weird and it’d hurt him. When I look up, he’s already staring at me. I blush. Hide a smile itching my mouth. “What?”

  He’s staring at my lips like they’re my eyes, then actually looks me in the eyes. “Nothing.”

  My stomach twists and does unholy flips. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” I instruct and stand. I begin to walk away, when I add over my shoulder, “And don’t punch any kids.”

  A mother holds her daughter and son to her legs, scowling at me with a shake of her head.

  “Oh.” My eyes bulge, and I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “I was just kidding around with my boyfriend,” I reassure her, but when I look over my shoulder, Grey’s whistling and looking around like he doesn’t know me. She glares tenfold. “I—he isn’t going to punch anyone’s kids. Nor will I. We don’t do that.”

  She just shakes her head and hurries along with her giggling kids.

  I send Grey a glare over my shoulder but can’t help the smile tugging on my lips. He’s laughing at my expense, clapping his hands. I take a mental picture just because of how cute he looks. Then, with blushed cheeks, I walk away. I come back to him with an ice-pack from one of the food stands.

  “Try not to punch anymore kids, all right?” I whisper to him as I gently press the pack of ice against his swelling skin. A lock of hair falls in front of my nose, tickling me. I want to push it away, but I’m too focused on icing his wound.

  His fingertips electrify me as he tucks the fallen hair behind my ear. Licking my lips and biting the lower one, I raise my eyes and look at him from beneath my eyelashes. He’s staring at me intensely, but softly at the same time. His brows furrow gently, and he pokes his tongue against his cheek, letting it fall.

  “I won’t,” he replies. Bringing my hand up, he kisses my knuckles. I swallow thickly, glancing at his ruined knuckles and my clean ones. Pure and damaged. We’re opposite magnets that don’t know when to walk away. “I promise.” His voice is stretched and low, raspy enough to make my stomach and heart hurt, but in a good way. A really good way.

  “Olivia, come on. Veronica is busting her ass every five seconds, and it’s too hilarious to miss out on!” Jasmine screams, ruining the moment. I part and smile at her as she leans over the plastic divider that wraps around the large skating-rink.

  “Coming right now,” I promise her.

  She nods and skates away, laughing her head off.

  “Here you go.” I hand him his skates. He takes them, his thumb brushing against mine. The move was obviously on purpose, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still blush like a shy schoolgirl.

  He grumbles his thanks and switches out his precious boots for the skates. He and I are wearing the sharp skates two minutes later. I lock our shoes in our assigned locker, then tuck the key in my front pocket. When I come back to him, he’s tugging at one of the skate’s laces. I rush over to him and hold his wrist, pulling his hand back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I question him, giving him a look of incredulity. I bend down and tie the laces back together.

  “I’ll just make a fool of myself,” he says, glaring at me.

  “You won’t because I’ll teach you how to skate,” I tell him as I stand to my feet. I don’t wobble or anything because I’m so used to wearing these. After skating for a few years as a hobby, I’ve mastered balancing.

  “After Justin, right?” he sneers, narrowing his eyes in hatred, but it’s not directed
toward me. His hands curl into dangerous fists. I sit back down, seeing the blowup coming. Like a trained soldier knowing when a grenade is about to set off.

  I grab his hands, kiss the both of them, and reassure him, “I don’t care about him. Never have, never will. You’re who I care about, Grey. We can be apart for ten years, and I’d still remember your smile, this very face of annoyance you’re making right now.” I laugh, and that seems to do it, because he smiles just the slightest. Rugged and handsome. “Okay?” I lift an eyebrow.

  He frowns again, looks out at the rink. “But…”

  I kiss his knuckles again, drawing his attention to my mouth. “Okay?” I repeat, tugging on his uninjured hand.

  He tugs with his bruised hand.

  “Okay.”

  Blushing, I stand up and guide him to the ice. For the next five minutes, I teach him how to stand on the ice confidently enough, so he doesn’t overthink and make himself fall, like everyone does when they first step onto the ice. He screams and curses each time he slips and lands on the ice. I try my best not to laugh and continue to coach him how to get around without falling over.

  He falls over about a hundred times.

  But finally, he’s moving in a very slow line, but he’s moving and not falling on his face.

  “I’m doing it!” he yells, legs wobbly, hands outstretched.

  “You’re doing it!” I appraise him, clapping my pink-gloved hands as I skate backward, keeping my eyes on him.

  He looks up from his feet, eyes dancing and a smile stretching across his face. The happiness radiating off of his body makes me giggle and clap some more. His eyes dance even more, and he steps forward, as if reaching for me. But he loses his balance and falls onto the ice. He groans as he rolls over, laying on his back.

  I gasp into my hands, skidding to a stop, ice spraying beside me. “Grey!” I skate over to him, stepping past nosy people looking back at him. I skid to a stop next to him, and he groans as a little spray of ice hits his face. “I am so sorry.” I can’t stop myself from laughing as I get on my knees and lean over him.

  “You did this to me,” he groans, clutching his stomach.

  “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have taken a step forward,” I point out, and he glares at me. “Sorry.” I blush and look at the ice beside his head.

  He rolls his eyes, holds out his hand. “Well? Help me up.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Here we go.” I stand up and take his hand. I should have seen it coming when his lips curled upright. Full on smirking, eyes glittering with mischief, he tugs on my hand, pulling me onto his chest.

  “Grey!” I screech, pushing against his chest. But both of his hands are gripping my wrist, keeping me stapled to his chest. I tug and tug, and he laughs and laughs. Groaning, I bite his cheek.

  “Ouch!” He yelps in pain, sitting up quickly. His head hits mine, and it’s my turn to yelp in pain.

  “Fudge!” I rub my forehead, and he laughs some more. When I turn to glare at him, I find him already staring at me. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Fudge?” He furrows his brows, puffing his lips. “What, you don’t curse anymore?”

  “Only around you,” I mumble.

  “Is that right?”

  “Mhm.” I hum, unable to speak, afraid I’ll speak what’s on my mind: I want him.

  He tips my head back, staring at my lips intently. His gaze is hard to look into, to hold, but I manage to. I lick my lips, swallow the nervous lump in my throat. He looks at my mouth and smirks at something he’s thinking. I want him to tell me what’s going on in that peculiar mind of his.

  “Grey, what are you thinking?” I ask him, my voice low.

  His eyes are scanning my entire face, and the need to know intensifies tenfold. But before he can open his mouth and tell me, a man with a little boy at his side tells us to get out of the way. Instead of blowing up at him for his rudeness, Grey merely glances at him, then looks into my eyes.

  He gets on one knee and, before pushing onto his feet, whispers in my ear, “I’ll tell you when we get back to the apartment.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The next morning, the sun shining in my eyes wakes me up. If it hadn’t been peeking through the blinds, I wouldn’t have woken up. Screw the internship, I had Grey cocooning me. A voice in my head reminds me why I am here, in New York, and I tell that voice to suck it.

  I’d forgotten how good it feels to have his arms around me, to have him wake me up with whispers of sweet nothings in his native tongue, to feel complete and overflowing with love. With him by my side, I really feel like I’m on top of the world.

  Which makes me think: why did I leave in the first place? That pesky voice zooms back into focus and reminds me again, and I understand. I do. So the question isn’t, “Why did I leave in the first place?” It’s, “Why can’t things be different?” Why can’t he love, or at least tolerate, New York enough to live here with me?

  Aren’t I enough that he’d at least consider it? Has he considered it? Even a little bit? I know he can be hard-headed, stubborn, and loathe change, but can’t he think about this for one second? Think about how happy and at home I feel here?

  When I was in Pennsylvania, I felt welcomed. It was nice while I was there, but it wasn’t the same as living here. Here, there’s culture everywhere you look, foods that I’ve loved for years. The air calms me, the constant traffic, the bright lights in Times Square.

  Just standing outside for even a fraction of a second feels right, like I’m meant to be here. I want to live here, I decide as I think more and more about it. I can only hope he’d just think about making the change, moving here with me.

  Admittedly, I am a little ravenous after last night’s endeavors. The feel of his hand holding me, caressing me, lips moist and on mine; the fullness when he entered me, whispering his native tongue in my ear.

  My entire body from the soles of my feet to the top of my head quivers, and I bite my lip. I want more, even right now. Though, last night, it felt like I got enough to last a year or two. But, like I said, I’m ravenous. And I want too many things.

  I want him here in NY with me, I want to travel the world with him, I want his kisses every second, and I just want him, damn it. All of it. No complications, nothing in our way, nothing that we can’t figure out and get past.

  Why does everything have to be complicated all the time? We’ve been through enough. We’ve proved that we’re strong. We don’t need any more obstacles, trust me.

  I roll over in bed, smile beaming like the sun, expecting his sleepy face. But I find nothing but a flattened pillow and wrinkled sheets. I sit up, worried, and frown at the indent he left behind. I run my hand against the sheet and pillow. Kind of warm, but not cool enough so that I could say that he got up a while ago.

  Not wanting to panic and think the worst, I get out of bed and look around for his shirt. It isn’t anywhere on the ground. If he was using the bathroom or trying to cook breakfast, he would have left it for me. Worry grows tenfold despite my desperate attempt at soothing myself. I pull on an oversized t-shirt.

  “Grey?” I call his name as I walk down the stairs. I feel cold, alone. My Grey-dar isn’t singing off the charts like it usually does when he’s around. But again, he could be out getting us food. I don’t think the radar for him extends outside of a room.

  But then I walk into the kitchen and spot a yellow Post-It note on the marble counter. I know what it says before I slowly reach out and pick it up. Tears muddle my eyes, and my lips tremble as I read it.

  Last night was great. Had to leave. Love, G xx

  It hits me like a truck filled with bricks: He left me.

  “Fuck you, G!” I crumple the note into a ball and storm over to the balcony door. I push the glass door to the side and lean over the balcony. I throw it with as much force behind my arm as I can. It dances in the wind, and I watch with teary eyes as it floats away from my view.

  I fall to the ground and cup my palms against
my face. I feel so freaking stupid. After two months of doing great for myself, I let him in. Let him slowly but surely wind his way back into my life. I let him spark the flame inside of me that only burned for him. I told myself I would find myself, someone who didn’t need to depend on him and how he made me feel.

  I was doing so well, slowly building a life for myself. A life that I could look at and say was mine. I could then be proud of having something for myself. I could be proud of myself for being independent.

  Sure, I missed him terribly when I allowed myself to think about him. Only because he made me feel loved and on cloud nine. Not because if I didn’t, I would crumble to nothing. It felt that way only a handful of times, but I worked with myself until that feeling went away and I felt stronger.

  But now…

  “Fuck!” I curse at myself, the tears flowing even harder.

  I let him in my bed, let him fuck me. It felt heavenly and electric, a moment I will never ever forget. Last night meant so freaking much to me, he has no idea. But doesn’t he? Wasn’t he there? Didn’t it mean anything to him too? I know it did. I saw it in the way he looked at me. Felt it when he touched me like I was the only girl in this world. Heard it as he whispered that he loves me. Tasted it when he his mouth met mine. From the very second they touched…

  So why did he leave me?

  I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d consider staying another week. Then it’d turn into a month. Then more. And as we lived here in New York, he’d find the charm I adore and want never want to leave. How could I be so stupid, so naïve? Of course he just left. He’s the most selfish person I know. Who makes love to someone so perfectly, so right, like they were born just for that one moment, then leave a scribbled note and leave the very next morning? He could have at least talked to me before leaving.

  I stand up, grip the banister, and scream. I scream until it physically hurts to be standing on my feet. Gravity pulls at me, and I land on the cold, hard ground.

  I sit out here in the freezing cold as snow gently falls from the gray clouds for what feels like an eternity, before I realize I have nothing else to give the world: my throat is screamed raw, and I just feel numb now. It’s already taken all of my tears. What else does it want? My heart? Too freaking bad. He took it when he left me.