Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

“You’re probably wondering why I asked to meet you here, right?” she asks, and I lift my head to find her looking at me expectantly.

  I hesitantly answer. “Well, yes.”

  She nods as if answering herself and opens her mouth to speak but is cut off when she is deftly brought her coffee. She thanks the girl and takes a sip, as if to ease whatever jitters I am unable to see, then takes a deep breath.

  “I just…I just needed someone to talk to,” she breathes with a heavy emotion.

  The hurt look she’s trying to hide as she stares at the table makes my heart wince.

  I reach across the table and lightly take her hand in mine and give her an assuring smile when she looks up, confused. “I’m here…”

  She nods, tears shielding her blue-blue eyes. She wipes a tear away and laughs as she says, “It’s insane what I have to say, though, especially the common ground we share.”

  My heart twists.

  “Really? Why?” My voice shakes because deep down, I think I know what that common ground is.

  She sniffles, holds her breath, then says, “Grey isn’t over you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  After the talk with Rose, I am caught in a whirlwind of emotions. There are too many for me to pinpoint each perfectly, but I know for a fact that I can sense the three main ones clear as the sky above my head. I can feel the airy presence of hope filling my cheeks, hot to the touch. I can smell desire tugging at me like ice cream lulls small children. And I can hear confusion whisper in my ear like a succubus seducing her next victim.

  Hope swells under my skin, because there is a chance we can get back together. It doesn’t seem possible with his solid grudge against me, but the opportunity is shinier than it was an hour ago. Before, I thought he forever resented me and would never want me back. But now—now I know that he isn’t through with me yet. He still has feelings for me.

  And with that realization comes desire. Its scent is intoxicating and nearly makes me trip over my feet. The craving to have him near me without him scowling at me like I am a scum of the earth grows to infinity. I have never wanted to be touched by anyone so badly in my entire nineteen years on this planet. And the thought that he still thinks about me just makes matters more confusing and punches down my barriers with one solid motto: You will never feel the same again, not if it’s by his touch.

  But then confusion settles in my eardrums like the party buster she is for one reason that has been haunting me every day: he hates me; at least he’s made it clear enough times to ruin me every which way possible. He’s pushed me away, yelled at me, and now he wants to taste me? He still reserves a space in his heart for me? It is just so confusing. I know he has bipolar disorder, but this is insane.

  And then a new emotion floats in front of my eyes: guilt. Guilt of him having feelings for me, a monster. I don’t want him to be hung up over me, because he deserves so much better. I will accept the role of being miserable and borderline depressed. I will gladly hold the feeling of resentment toward myself. But I will not accept him pleading to his girlfriend for her to “taste like me.” I just won’t.

  But then a new wave of guilt shatters into my heart like a runaway boat drifting from a dangerous storm out at sea. Guilt of me kissing Noah. I felt his lips on mine, and it wasn’t the same. I searched for Grey the same way he searched for me. If I had known Grey still had feelings for me, I would have pulled back. I would have run to Grey because there is a chance he’ll accept me in his arms.

  But then another emotion hits me like a bolt of lightning: frustration. Then anger. Frustration because he chooses to act like I should be run over on repeat instead of voicing…this. He never knew how to talk to me about his feelings, and he’s showing that lovely habit right now. And that’s how frustration turns into anger, rage really.

  I call Grey because we need to talk about this, but of course, he doesn’t answer. He is the most stubborn person I know. I’d go to the local boxing gym to look if he’s there, but with his involvement with the gang, he could be at their hotspot, and I refuse to step foot in that cesspool of drug dealers and criminals. Especially if Dean is there, he creeps me out.

  There is only one thing that could possibly lift my spirits: strawberry sprinkled ice cream. But even as I take long licks and walk aimlessly down the shopping strip, it does nothing but highlight how lonely I am. I could call Charlotte, but she’ll only want to track down Grey for playing with my feelings and probably bash his head in, thus resulting in her ending up in jail. I don’t think Louise would ever forgive me or her.

  A large part of me wants to see Noah because he’s become a sort of haven of mine, but I can’t. I left things so open and awkward, and I don’t think I’m ready to even talk to him again. Lord knows I’d just get tongue-tied and be plagued with even more emotions. I haven’t thought about what that kiss means between us, because I haven’t figured out what to do about Grey yet.

  Do I strangle him for not communicating with me about his feelings, or do I put my pride on the chopping block and jump on him, after I track him down like he did with me when he saved me from that wretched weed brownie-sharing party?

  I let out a long sigh as I plop down on one of the benches in the park I’ve wandered into. I sucked out all the ice cream in my cone, meaning I don’t even have this to keep me sated anymore.

  I suck in my pride long enough to call Mason.

  “Hello?” he says cheerily.

  “Hey…are you with Mateo? I can call later.” I don’t want to bother him with my messy situation.

  “Yeah, but I can talk. What’s up?”

  I chew my lower lip as I take a chunk out of the sticky cone in my hand.

  “Promise you won’t freak out,” I say.

  “There’s no way I’m not going to after you tell me that.” He chuckles, then pauses. “What’s wrong?”

  I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

  “Grey still has feelings for me…”

  The call ends, and I frown. Until I see he’s requesting to FaceTime.

  I accept, and he looks at me wide-eyed, like he just heard ghosts are real.

  “He what?” he cries out, and I gulp nervously.

  “Your sister called to meet up with me.” I tell him what happened and stand. I feel like I have to walk around and get my blood pumping, or I may faint.

  “My sister?” he exasperates.

  I nod and watch as Mateo sits down next to Mason with a taco clenched between his teeth. He is obliviously chewing until he stops, feeling our stares on him, and looks between the both us.

  “What’s happening?” he mumbles.

  Mason smiles with a ghost smile. “You can be so cute sometimes.”

  “Aw, thanks, babe.” Mateo pecks Mason’s cheek, and Mason blushes.

  “Hello, major conflicting problem here.” I wave my hand, and Mason looks guilty as he returns his attention to me.

  “Right, sorry,” he apologizes, then sighs. “What’s your plan?”

  “Well, I did plan to confront Grey, but does this really make a difference?” I shrug solemnly.

  “Um, yes,” says Mateo. “This makes a hell of a difference.”

  “He’s right,” Mason agrees. “You thought he hated you—”

  “And he still does,” I cut him off, shrugging. “Rose says he was high out of his mind and wasted. Maybe he was so out of it that he didn’t know what he was saying.”

  “Exactly, he acted out what his conscience really wants, not what his subconscious is telling him,” Mason points out.

  Maybe he’s right…we do and say things we really want when we’re not in our right minds.

  “I don’t know…it doesn’t…it doesn’t change what I did,” I say and gulp. “I ruined everything between us. I don’t deserve a second chance. I just feel so greedy, thinking there’s a chance between us when Noah just kissed me yesterday—”

  “Whoa, back the hell up. You and Noah kissed?” Mason exclaims.

  “W
ell, yes.” I cringe.

  “Drama…I love it. Keep going,” Mateo encourages, taking a large, crunchy chunk of his hard-shell taco.

  “Not now, Mateo,” Mason and I both say, making him cowardly raise his hands in defense.

  Mason swivels his eyes to me. “Why didn’t you tell me you two kissed?”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just…I was messed up, and I wanted to figure out how to stop crying like an emotional banshee long enough to relay the incident to you.”

  “Incident?” he and Mateo question.

  I look around and feel my skin’s temperature rise sky-high as I nod and choke out, “I may have been searching for Grey, you know, in the kiss. At first, I felt nothing, and it worried me, so I tried to get into it…but nothing worked. So now I feel horrible because Noah and I were okay before this, great friends, but now…”

  “Now you don’t know what to do,” Mason finishes for me, and I nod, feeling tears sting my eyes.

  “Because you know Grey doesn’t hate you as much as he wanted it to seem?” Mateo points out another thing.

  Again, I nod.

  “Don’t cry.” Mason sighs and licks his lips. “Come back to the house. We’ll throw on PJs and watch Dirty Dancing.”

  “Patrick Swayze had an ass of the gods—it’ll be amazing!” Mateo exclaims like a kid in a candy factory.

  “Hey!” Mason pouts his lips, glaring at his boyfriend. Yep, they confirmed it—they’re officially a thing.

  “Right after you, of course,” Mateo reassures his boy and kisses his cheek.

  “Oh, stop it,” Mason coos, shaking his shoulders.

  “Really, stop it,” I say in a faux bored tone, lifting an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m going to throw up. I don’t think the sanitation crew would appreciate it.”

  “Depends, what did you eat?” Mason looks at me speculatively.

  I laugh. “Just had strawberry sprinkled ice cream.”

  “Then it’ll be a nice display of throw up.” Mateo shrugs.

  “Okay, can we stop talking about this? I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Mason laughs, and Mateo and I join in. “Where are you now? I could use a good tub of triple fudge.”

  “Ew, you like fudge ice cream?” Mateo makes a yuck face.

  Mason snaps his head at him. “Excuse me? You don’t like fudge ice cream?”

  “No, of course not.” He squints his eyes. “But you love it, don’t you?”

  “More than Patrick Swayze’s ass, yes.” Mason scoffs.

  Mateo gasps dramatically. “That’s why he has a better one than you.”

  Mason gasps even more dramatically, hand on chest and all. “Fine, love his ass. It’s the only one you’ll be seeing as long as we’re together.” He storms away, and the camera shakes.

  “Oh, geez. Don’t be a drama queen—” Mateo begins to chase after him before I end the call.

  “What a conversation,” I breathe to myself.

  I smile as I slip my phone into my shoulder bag, turning the corner for the ice cream parlor. I won’t find any resolution walking around feeling emotions hit me over and over in the face as they please. Maybe watching Patrick Swayze’s butt shake will take my mind off it, and I’ll figure out everything tomorrow. I’m sure I can find the answers in the bottom of a barrel of strawberry ice cream, right? Is that a possible thing that generally happens? Well, I’m about to find out.

  Five minutes later, I am exiting with tubs of ice cream when someone calls my name to my left.

  “Yo, Liv!” The voice is deep and eerily familiar.

  I turn my head and am shocked to see Sam. “Sam?” Curious, I walk over to him. He is casually sitting on the hood of his light blue car, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He is licking a red lollipop, and as he does so, I examine how different he looks. He’s wearing jean shorts, a plaid shirt, has rugged facial hair that really suits him, and shaggier blond hair. He actually looks more attractive, if that’s even possible. Though I can’t see his blue eyes because of the dark shades he’s got on, I can tell they’re lit up just by his smile.

  “Long time no see,” he says, then glances down at my ice cream-filled hands and whistles, dimples poking in the sides of his cheeks. “Those pregnancy hormones sure are kicking in, huh?”

  “What?” It takes me a while as I glance down at the ice cream, then it hits me and my cheeks flush bright red. “Oh, no—no! I’m not—Grey and I split up. I’m not pregnant.” I sound winded.

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Awks.”

  “Yeah…” I clear my throat and straighten my posture. “So, um, what are you doing in Miami?”

  “Just enjoying the sun rays,” he says, craning his head back.

  I begin to say something when I hear a loud grunt and an oomph in the alley nearby. I glance at it, he locks eyes with me, and he nervously chuckles with a shrug.

  “And doing a little business.” He holds up a finger and throws over his shoulder, “Hurry it up, will you? Old Navy has a sale on flip-flops, and I’m not missing it because of you goons.” Then he looks back at me and most likely winks. “The white ones go out fast. They’re my favorite.”

  So he’s in the gang too? Didn’t see that coming.

  “Right…” I clear my throat and nervously look around. “Well, I’ve got to go before these melt.” I raise my hands for emphasis, and he nods, understanding.

  “’Kay, but before you go, I should invite you to an amazing party that’s going down Saturday. Lots of booze, even more drugs—it’ll be fun, you should come.”

  “Oh, no thank you. But thanks for the invite.” There is no way I’m going to a party when the chances of Grey being there is so high.

  He pouts, feigning sadness. But then he sticks the lollipop in his mouth, swirls graphically with his tongue, and makes a loud sound as he takes it out. I jump, and he laughs like a giddy child.

  “Too bad, but I’ll see you around.” He nods at me, and I give him a sheepish smile.

  “Sure, bye, Sam.” I walk away as he waves at me, then orders his “goons” to hurry it up or he’ll beat them with his full-priced flip-flops.

  He sure is weirder than I remembered.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  When I arrive home, I am more than ready to bury myself in pink ice cream and give myself over to an eighties chick flick. Together, we gather a ton of blankets and pillows. I feel bad for making them do this with me, but Mason insists that he’d rather hang out with me and his boyfriend like this than attend another rave party. Apparently, if he goes to another, his brain just might explode. I laughed at that and changed into loose sweatpants on Mateo’s behalf and my Penn State University hoodie. Paired with fuzzy socks Louise gave me one Christmas, I am the most comfortable I have been in a long time.

  I call Charlotte to come down and join us, but she’s out clubbing, looking for a “hot Miami hook-up.” But she promises to talk to me and hang out even more when she gets home, but I’m sure I’ll be dead asleep by the time she sneaks in. I bet Mason ten dollars that Louise will be waiting by the door with a bucket of holy water to splash on her. She’s done it before, trust me.

  “Get ready to see a nice ass for once,” Mateo sasses as he hits play on the movie.

  I barely choke back a laugh. “Oh, don’t be so mean. I’m sure Mason’s tush is admirable.”

  “I’ll show you admirable,” Mason growls before lunging for me, teeth bared.

  I scream with laughter as he tackles me in the ocean of plush comforters. Mateo tries shushing us, but his boyfriend won’t have it, not when he’s too busy tickling me. “Mason!” I shriek his name and finally push him off me. “Jerk.” I stick my tongue at him. He snorts and lays in Mateo’s arm, pulling me into his chest, so we look like knocked down dominoes with one upright one.

  By the time I’ve finished my tub, we’re halfway through the movie. Mateo and Mason try to dance like Baby and Johnny. They stumble, and Mateo looks like a giant giraffe trying
to dance on stilts while Mason looks like a tiny ant compared to him, struggling to move from point A to point B. I laugh all the while and throw pillows at them, teasingly booing them. They collapse next to me and defend their “incredible” gifts I am positively jealous over.

  This is what I needed: a night to clear my mind without taking a deep dive in a ten-foot pool or bawling my eyes out until I’ve run myself dry. I just need to watch cheesy romance flicks with tubs of ice cream and soft comforters with my friends. Maybe this is all I really need; not confusing, infuriating boys or figuring out what to do, to the point that I can’t think or do anything without breaking down. My life before college was so simple and untainted, but after, I’m dealing with two boys and their spotty emotions, which is not as fun as it sounds.

  “I’m going to make popcorn. I’ll be back,” I tell the boys as I stand.

  They mumble a reply, and I smile as I step over their marshmallow-like bodies.

  I yawn for the umpteenth time and almost bump into Louise in the kitchen.

  “Oh, hey,” I say, trying to appear awake. I haven’t slept in the last twenty-four hours, and I am afraid of the mess awaiting me in the dream world.

  “Have you seen Charlotte?” she asks, squinting her eyes, trying to assess me.

  I widen my eyes a bit and shake my head. “No, I think she’s out.”

  She hums and puts her fists on her hips and looks me up and down. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Uh-oh, she’s onto me.

  “Nothing, just a bit tired,” I tell her and shrug, uncommitted. “The guys and I are watching a movie, and I think a few more after it’s done. I just came in here for some popcorn.”

  She stares at me for a minute longer, then sighs in resignation and nods. “Don’t stay up too late.” Then she squishes my cheeks and coos, “I don’t want you getting bags under these beautiful, beautiful eyes.” She kisses my nose, and I groan her name. She laughs and walks away, slipping outside to the backyard. I watch her round the house, where the hose and buckets are.

  Told you.