“And it’s all because of that damned punk. You ruined our dynamic for him. Him! I thought you would have used your brain, Olivia. Not your va—”
“Mother!” I scream out before she can finish that sentence. How can she think so crudely? Think of me like a girl who doesn’t think as much as she acts with what’s between her legs? I pinch my nose and force on a strained smile to keep from snapping at her. “Can you please tell me why you called? I’m on my way to class.”
“To remind you that you will be picked up at eight a.m. sharp next Wednesday,” she informs me in a cutthroat tone that makes me think of a razor blade.
I begin to ask what she means when it hits me. Thanksgiving is next Thursday. And I totally blanked on it. I swear it’s Grey. It’s like he puts up a set of blinders in front of my eyes whenever I’m around him.
“Right,” I say and nod. “Eight a.m. Got it. Anything else?”
She hums, thinking. “Have you bought your dress for the dinner? We will be having company over.”
“Yes. Is Grandmother Millie coming?” I ask, hopeful.
I haven’t seen her in so long, I miss her and often wonder if she’s okay. My grandfather—my father’s father—passed away last year, and when he did, it was like a piece of her died with him. We offered to let her live with us to keep her company, but she didn’t want to leave their home he’d built for her. I call to check up on her from time to time, but it isn’t anything compared to actually seeing her in person.
“Yes, and a few neighbors. I hope you picked out an appropriate dress, Olivia,” she warns.
I roll my eyes and nod, even though she can’t see me. “Of course I have, Mother…” I trail, furrowing my brows. I wonder what Grey is doing for Thanksgiving. I’d hate for him to be alone if he isn’t doing anything. I’d love for him to come. He’d definitely help with the tension bound to flourish between my mother and me. But is it too soon to make him meet my family? More like my father and grandmother. We’ve only just begun to be “sort of a thing.”
“Mother…is it all right if I bring someone along…?” I can feel my heart beat like a manic bird flapping its wings in my throat. My palms grow slick, I almost drop my phone.
“Yes,” she says, and before I can sigh in relief, she laughs obnoxiously.
“What’s funny?” I ask her, slightly shocked. I haven’t heard her laugh—apart from her occasional fake ones—in so long.
“I’m just surprised you’ve moved on from that wretched boy. Hopefully this one has a chance of getting a master’s degree.”
I stop walking and stare at my phone in shock. She only said yes because she thought I meant some other guy than Grey. Well, that obviously isn’t true, but she already said yes, so I’ll take it. Maybe I can convince her of how nice he has been to me? Doubtful, but I want him to come along. I know my father will like him, and maybe even my grandmother. They’re a lot less judgmental than my mother.
“I meant Grey, Mother,” I tell her and anxiously switch my weight from foot to foot.
She guffaws in a snobby manner. “You are not to bring that toxic boy here to a dinner this special. It is only reserved for family and friends.”
“Why not? He and I are dating. It’s only right if I bring him with me,” I argue, making a fist with my free hand. We aren’t really dating, but I can’t say we’re “sort of a thing” if I want to persuade her to let me bring him. It bothers me that she won’t give him a chance. I have, and he’s shown me how good he can be. Why can’t she do the same?
“Dating?” she shrills. Her scoff sends a chill down my spine. “The boy has a color as his name.”
“I’m sure it’s short for something, Mother,” I grit out, although I’m not even sure if it is. I just want her to stop making fun of him.
“He is not to come, and that is final. Do you understand me?” She is firm, and I know I can’t shake her. She will always despise him. The man I love. And I know there’s nothing I can do about it. I just wish she’d give him a chance.
If she won’t let him come, then that’s saying she won’t accept me either. I’ve changed too. Drastically. She’s already proved to me that I am not the daughter she once adored. Once had faith in. I’m the daughter who saw a bad boy and fell for his boyish charms, ignoring his wicked past. But that’s not all that happened. I fell for his heart and his insane but sort of beautiful, complex personality.
We may be complete opposites, but he is the darkness to my light that shields me from the white-hot flares, and I keep him cool while we stay hidden and protected.
“Then you can find another relative to take my place at the dinner table,” I tell her and suck in a deep breath. “Because I’m not coming.” My heart has swum to my throat and is pounding against my delicate skin.
I’ve never defiantly gone against my mother like this before, besides the time she popped up and picked a fight with Grey. Now and then, I’ve just been defying her orders and all because of Grey. But I don’t mind. I’d take a million fights with her to defend him. I love him.
“You are not serious. Olivia, think about what you’re doing!” she seethes through the receiver. “You are giving up spending time with your family for some boy you barely know. You have become so irrational and idiotic ever since you left home. I have half a mind to go down there right this second and pull you out for your sake!”
“Will you just stop already?” I shout. I breathe heavily to catch my breath. People stare at me, but I couldn’t care less. I can’t just let her walk all over me. Not anymore. “If I say that I am not going to some party you only throw to show off your glamorous house and collection of pearls, I’m not going. Mother, you know how much I love you, but I also love Grey—more than I ever thought I would.” I drag in a deep breath.
“You’re going to have to get used to the idea of me and him being together, because as far as I know, we’re not breaking up. I won’t let you break us. Now, I will call everyone respectively and apologize for my absence. Tell them I went to China to study again or wasn’t feeling well—I don’t care,” I rant and wait anxiously for her reply.
“You are making a mistake—” she begins to say, but I can’t take this anymore.
“I have to go.” I hang up and groan in frustration. I tuck my phone in my pants and put my face in my hands. I cannot believe her. Why won’t she trust me enough to do this? She’s always telling me how bright I am, so why can’t she have faith in my brightness and trust that I know what I’m doing?
“Hey there, little virgin,” Diana drawls with a nauseating smirk as she strolls up to me.
As if my day couldn’t get any worse, she comes along.
“I am not in the mood, Diana.” I don’t bother voicing my exhaustion. Whatever she has to say can wait. For an eternity.
I walk around her, but she grabs my hand, so I face her.
“Funny,” she says with a twitch of her red lips. “Grey sure was in the mood last night.”
What?
Chapter Ten
I harden my gaze and scoff. “Trying to break us apart again? It won’t work this time. He definitely was with me, I mean, he did fall asleep like a baby after we…I think I’ve divulged a little too much, don’t you think?” I don’t hold back in sounding bitchy.
Rage flashes beneath her cerulean eyes, but she grits her teeth and tilts her head with a grin.
“The text doesn’t lie, honey.” She thrusts her phone in front of my face.
Grey: Can I come over?
Diana: See you soon. Xx.
I feel my blood pressure drop, but I perk up when my phone pings with a message. I swipe my finger across the screen. It’s a text from Grey.
Grey: Bitch incoming. Don’t trust what she says.
Then he sends me a screenshot of his text messages with her, and I smile like I just won the lottery.
Grey: Can I come over?
Diana: Of course babe. I knew u’d grow tired of that virgin.
Grey: Fuck you. I ju
st left a hat there.
Diana: See you soon. Xx
Grey: WTF?? Can I get my damn hat or not?
She deleted parts of the conversation. What a bitch move. Too bad Grey saw it coming. And too freaking bad he’s with me…partially, but it’s more than this snake will ever get.
“Nice try, Dee,” I hiss playfully and show her my screen with the true conversation.
She glares at me. “You won’t last long, honey. He only wants you to fuck. He’s never fucked a virgin before. Never got the chance with Rose…”
I clam up and shake my head. “What? No.” I should walk away. I don’t believe her, anyway. She constantly lies, like with the texts just now. I turn on my heels and begin walking toward the classroom.
“Why do you think he’s trying so hard to be with you? You’re just a part of his fucked-up formula to be normal!” she screams, and I nearly spin around and punch or maybe even slap her. But I have more pride than that. “Face it, honey, you’re nothing! You just see! You’ll see soon enough! Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”
I look over my shoulder one last time before entering the classroom.
***
“Someone called for pizza?” Grey says as he enters the dorm room.
I came back after working with Mason for three hours, because I want to ask Grey an important question—if he could come with me back to my hometown for Thanksgiving with my family. I don’t think I would have gotten the best answer if he was in the same room as Mason. Those two constantly go at it like cats and dogs. It’s ridiculous! Nonetheless, I was starving, and I called him to bring some pizza over, hoping it’d sway him with some pepperoni in his stomach.
“Yes, I’m starved.” I groan for emphasis as I sit up on my bed and put my binder beside me. He plops down on the bed and places the pizza box beside him. But before he can, I tap his wrist and eye the study desk. He gives me a weird look, and I sigh and stand, telling him, “I don’t want any grease getting on my sheets.” I bend and pull out a roll of paper towels.
“Are you serious?” He laughs and eyes me, trying to assess if I’m joking or not. If only he knew how I once—actually, on many occasions—wiped every speck of dirt off every stick of furniture I could get my hands on in the house back home. And I was the only one living in it since my parents were working most of the time.
Glancing at the shiny white surface of the desk, I lay another layer or two before picking up the pizza box. He grabs one before I place the box on the paper towel.
“Hell yes,” I reply to him, then take a pizza slice for myself. I grab two sheets and sit next to him, handing him one. He scoffs at the paper and takes another large bite. I shrug and think to myself, Better for me, before placing the second paper in my palm and taking another bite. “Did you bring anything to drink?” I look at him and freeze when his face falls.
“Yeah, I put soda cans in my back pocket…” He trails off and looks down.
Oh, no…
“Grey!” I shriek and jump up in fright. Is he serious? He did not just ruin my hundred-dollar comforter! I will kill him!
His maniacal laughing cuts off my plotting his death. And then he waves a hand at me and says, “Calm down, clean freak. They’re in my backpack.” He clamps down on his pizza and swings his bag off his back and onto his lap.
“That was not funny!” I exclaim and punch his arm. He finds the most horrendous things comical, and it will forever boggle my mind. He pulls out two cans of Pepsi and hands me one. I pop it open as he does and take a few sips before setting it on the floor beside me.
I almost over-think the possibility of rings gathering on the floor under the drink but push it in the back of my mind and sit up. He takes a few big gulps and does the same, putting the drink on the ground.
“It was pretty funny to me.” He shrugs with a cocky smile as he chews, and I turn my head away and groan in disgust.
“Close your mouth, nasty,” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” he teases.
“No.” I face him and let out a screech when he lurches forward and presses me against the wall, a look of mischief engraved in his face and lighting up his black eyes. “Stop! Back up, I’m eating my pizza.” I groan like a child and take a bite.
He ignores me and chews loudly in front of my face. His free hand finds its way to my waistline and begins running up and down my skin, tickling me senseless. Laughter slips out of my mouth, and before I know it, I’ve dropped my pizza on the floor and he has me on my back, his face nuzzled in my neck, pizza still tucked in between his teeth as he assaults me with his greasy hands.
“Gr–eeeeey!” I screech out his broken name and lamely swat at his shoulder. “I—I have to ask you an important q-question—STOP TICKLING ME!” I yell, throwing my head back against the comforter, kicking my legs to and fro as I try to get this glorious boy with black eyes off me.
He mumbles something, but the words are lost around the spongy pizza crust. Will he stop tickling me and let me speak? It’s nice that he’s in such a good mood, but it won’t be helpful if he keeps tickling me like he’s ten. But I can’t admit that I don’t like the brightness surrounding his dark eyes or those two dime-sized dimples creasing by his pizza-stuffed lips.
He’s like a man-child. But he’s my man-child. And I know how to stop this.
“If you stop, I’ll show you that same favor I showed you last night,” I promise and watch as he slows down.
“Are you lying, like this morning?” he mumbles around the pizza.
“Didn’t you get something in the shower?” I arch my eyebrows, and he blushes and shrugs like a school girl. “That’s what I thought. Now, get off me.”
He leans back and tosses his pizza crust on the floor behind him.
“You are so disgusting.” I lean up on my elbows, and he tugs at the waist of my jeans, pulling me toward his lips. But I put a hand up; his lips meet my greasy palm. “Just because of that, no kissing for you.” I brush past him and pick up the fallen pieces of pizza and drop them in the waste bin.
When I return to sit on the bed, he has another pizza slice lodged between his teeth and a wicked glint in his eyes. I toss a pillow at his face, and he catches it with a golden grin. I rub my hands together and watch him eat, thinking of ways to ask him such a question that is a huge step forward in our relationship. And we’re not even technically in a relationship. Or we are? I don’t know, it’s confusing.
But what I do know is that I want to spend this holiday with him. If not with my family, then with his. I know his relationship with his mother is rocky, broken even, but I would love to meet her. And I have nothing else to do, as horrible as that sounds. Maybe even Christmas too? But I can’t be too hopeful. Not yet, at least. We have to get through this holiday first. Together.
I could just squeal at how grown up I am becoming. Bringing a boy home and thinking about spending holidays together.
When he’s finished with his pizza, he catches my gaze and looks around quizzically. “What?”
I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. I close my mouth and pinch my eyebrows together.
Why is this so hard? Maybe it’s because I’ve never asked to spend a holiday with anyone because I’ve just been used to people coming over and being impressed by the bright girl who listens to her mother, like she should.
Or he means a lot to you and you don’t want to scare him away? my subconscious suggests. Damn it. The girl’s right. But I can’t let uncertainty hold me back from this.
“How do you feel about spending Thanksgiving with me?” I ask with a smile I hope will sucker him in for the big punch.
He looks skeptical but shrugs and says, “Sure—”
“With your mother?” I finish, and his face immediately slacks and grows hard with every bone in his face.
“No,” he says and looks away from me. I watch the subtle tick in his jaw and the rubbing of his forever-bruised knuckles. I sigh and scoot closer. He looks at me and r
aises a warning eyebrow. I scoot closer anyway, and he rolls his eyes.
“Why not?” I ask and take one of his calloused hands in mine. It immediately clamps down on mine, and I hide the indication of slight pain from his rough nails pressing against my skin. “I’m sure she’d love to have you.”
“Trust me, she wouldn’t.”
“Oh, come on. When’s the last time you saw her?” I want to shove the words back in my mouth the minute they leave my lips. I should not have said that.
He snaps his head to me, and I freeze. “When she kicked me out when I was sixteen years old.” He rips his hand away from mine and scowls. I look at my hands anxiously.
“I’m sorry…but I’d love to meet her and—” I begin to say.
“I said no! Okay?” He pushes away and surprises me by jumping to his feet like a ball of raging fire.
“Grey, calm down—”
“I will not! You keep trying to push me to go, but I refuse to. Just drop it, because I’m not going.” I gape at him as he walks over to the door and swings it open.
So he’s just going leave me? I’m sure if they just talked about it, they could be rational and put the past behind them. I mean, we’re doing that regarding Grey’s apparently depraved past. Why can’t we do the same now?
“I know she kicked you out, but I’m sure you two could work something out—”
“Listen,” he cuts me off, and I stare at him as he seethes. “I know you’re a perfectionist and need everything to be your way, but not this time. Not with that woman. I suggest you drop it, okay?” His words grow soft toward the end. He shakes out his hair in frustration, strides over to the door, and throws it open. “I’ll see you around.”
“But I—”
He slams the door shut before I can finish my sentence.
Chapter Eleven
Grey_The Infatuation Page 10
