“Grey Wyler!” I gasp in theatrics, and he throws his head back in laughter. I like this look on him. He looks clean cut, handsome as ever, and…happier, for some reason. And I like to think I’m the reason for it.
We step onto the elevator, and he sneaks a kiss. I whine about taking it slow, but I secretly love it.
Everything from what Mason and Sam told me earlier vanishes into thin air. Tonight is about me and Grey. No one else. I promised us a clean slate, and that means nothing about the past, only the future.
Chapter Four
Grey drives downtown, and I look out the window, trying to think of where he’s taking us. He’s dressed up pretty nice, and I’m wearing heels, for goodness’ sake. I can safely rule out trampolining, but with Grey, I wouldn’t be surprised. But I’m not just turned away from him to ponder in silence, it’s also because I’m terribly nervous. My stomach is in nautical knots, and my heart is in my stomach.
This is my first date with a boy, and I don’t know where we’re going. I usually plan everything, such as important events like this, though I haven’t in a long while, only because Grey has made my life so complicated and unpredictable. I’d feel better if I knew where we’re going.
“Grey?” I call over the low but still infuriating rap music.
“Yes, Princess?” he answers with a calm sigh.
I glance at him and play with my charm bracelet. “Where are we going?”
“Can’t tell you,” he says in a jolly mocking tone, tapping his long fingers on the steering wheel.
I frown and turn to him, briefly admiring how amazing he looks for the hundredth time tonight. “Why not?” I question. I cross my arms, and he glances over at me and chuckles slowly before looking back at the road. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” he replies and glances at me again. I look away from his amused expression before facing him when he looks at the road. “You plan every second of every day, and not knowing where I’m taking you is absolutely killing you, isn’t it?”
I think before answering. “Maybe…only because I like to be prepared. And there isn’t anything wrong with that.”
“Have you ever heard of the phrase: When you make plans, God laughs?”
“Of course I have.” What is he trying to get at?
“Then you should know that you making plans is unnecessary, because he has plans for you that could be totally different from what you were arranging,” he says in a scholarly tone that makes me bite back a smile and look at him in admiration. As if feeling my heated gaze, he looks at me, his lips twitching a smile. “I went to church a lot as a kid.” His face grows somber, and he looks back on the road. What was that?
“I didn’t know you were a church boy,” I say and lean on the window.
He shrugs. “My folks dragged me to the local church nearly every Sunday. I never really believed whole-heartedly, though. So after a while, I just stopped going and focused on fighting.”
“Why didn’t you believe in it?” I know I’m prying into something sensitive and private to his beliefs, but I want to know more about him. I want to feel connected to him on a more personal level. And I have a feeling we’re getting there.
He shrugs again and glances at me for a split second. “I just didn’t find it plausible, that’s all.” There’s more to it. I can tell. But I won’t push him. Not now at least.
The rest of the drive is silent, but it’s a comfortable silence. After a while, I switch the channel to an indie pop channel, and I glance at him with a small smile as he acts neutral. I spend the time looking out the window and admiring the tall, lit-up buildings and the people wandering about, laughing and chatting like they’re having a great time.
In that moment, I promise myself to explore this surprisingly lively town. I wonder if Grey and I will one day…
We pull to a stop in front of a line of brick stores, all lit with fairy lights around their signs.
“Whoa…” I gasp in amazement as I unbuckle my seatbelt. I hear Grey chuckle before he jumps out and rounds to my side. He opens the door and helps me get out. A smile blooms on my face. I shyly brush a sliver of escaped hair behind my ear as I watch him close the door after me.
“Milady,” he says, holding out a hand with a bow of his head. I roll my eyes at his cheesiness but take his hand. Okay, I don’t know what it is, if it’s the suit or the need for me to take him back—but I am loving this side of him. A lot. As we walk, I try to calm my raging nerves and walk closer to him, holding onto his bicep. He looks down at me with a knowing look, smirk and all, but doesn’t say anything…just keeps walking, pulling me a tad closer. I hide my smile. At least, I try to.
A smile ghosts his lips as we near one of the enchanting buildings. I look up at the illuminated sign hanging above the open door that exudes a doughy smell and roses: Andalusia. Fancy name. I chew on my lower lip but stop, realizing I don’t want to ruin my lip-gloss. It took me way too long to get ready, and I’d be damned if I ruined anything that took this long.
A woman with dark hair, bright eyes, and a cool brown skin-tone greets us. “¡Hola! Bienvenido a Andalusia’s. ¿Cómo puedo ayudarle esta noche?” (Hello! Welcome to Andalusia. How may I assist you tonight?)
Grey steps forward with a surprisingly warming smile and lightened eyes. “Tenemos una mesa para dos. ¿Debajo del nombre Grey Wyler?” (We have a table for two. Under the name Grey Wyler?)
The hostess looks down at the podium in front of her and nods, looking at us again with a wide smile and small bow of her head. “Por supuesto, por favor, sígueme.” (Of course, please follow me.)
We follow her to the back of the restaurant where it is mostly vacant, except for a few couples laughing over glasses of wine or simply chatting with one another. The entire time Grey keeps his hand intertwined with mine, even as we take a seat at one of the red-clothed bistro tables. I can’t help but laugh and go along with his sudden clinginess.
He hums as he flips open the menu on the side of the table, playfully rubbing his thumb over mine. The touch, however minuscule, sends shivers up my spine and elicits a smile.
“Grey,” I whisper.
“Yes, dear Princess?” he answers without taking his eyes off the menu.
“Why are you still holding my hand?” Not that I’m complaining or anything…
“Oh, because some fuckers were gawking at you while we were walking in. It was either I hold your hand or knock every single one of them out,” he says, finally looking at me with an unflinching smile that makes me skip a breath. I didn’t even notice I was being stared at. I’m not even dressed that well. I look like a damn flower girl. I just didn’t know he’d take me somewhere so fancy and…romantic.
“Hold my hand all you want, then.” I flip open my own menu.
“I’d rather hold something else of yours,” he says in a low voice, and I make an “eww” sound and wrench my hand back, ignoring the sting of loss of contact.
“I don’t even know what that means.” I laugh and regard him with a disgusted expression.
He merely shrugs. “Just know it was supposed to be sexual.” I can’t hold in a giggle when he begins to waggle his eyebrows.
“Trust me, I got it.”
A waiter with a joyous grin sidles up next to us, interrupting our moment. “¡Hola! Welcome to Andalusia. Can I start you two off with some appetizers? There is a great deal on the—”
“Nos trae paella de salmón con arroz extra, y tráeme tu mejor vino blanco,” Grey rudely interrupts and hands the man our menus without even looking at him. (Get us salmon paella with extra rice and bring me your best white wine.)
Can he be anymore rude? And he was doing so well.
He shows the waiter his I.D., and when asked for mine, before I can explain I’m a minor, Grey goes off in a rant. He speaks faster than I can translate, and I’m flushed with embarrassment when the waiter apologizes and quickly walks away.
“What the heck was that?” I whisper.
Grey wave
s a hand. “The wine here is lovely. It would have been sad if you couldn’t taste some.”
I just roll my eyes. Of course he’d risk the restaurant losing their license for serving a minor alcohol.
“I didn’t even get to look at the menu,” I hiss at Grey as soon as the waiter is gone.
He waves a dismissive hand at me. “I’ve been here lots of times. You would have taken forever to pick and probably chosen something you wouldn’t have liked.”
Why would he just assume that without giving me a chance to look at the menu?
“Why didn’t you let me look first? I don’t like people ordering for me,” I say but hold up a hand and roll my eyes. “But I guess I should trust you, huh? Because you know the place so well. I wonder why. Wait, maybe because—hm—could it be because you take all of your flings here?” I rant and glare at his obnoxious smirk. I hate how the once playful mood between us has soured in the span of a few minutes. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re wrong about the girl part. The first part, I still believe you would have asked, in grave detail, about every item on the menu. But the girl part.” He hisses and snaps his finger while lifting the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never taken a girl here. Not once. The last date I’ve been on was five years ago. So this is kinda new to me, really.” His eyes shimmer with amusement at my reaction.
I freeze and clear my throat. “Oh?”
Is it wrong that I wanted him to have taken girls here? Because then I wouldn’t be singled out and perceived as…special. I sound crazy, but it would have lessened my nerves that are now going through the roof.
The waiter waltzes over to us and sets our food and drinks in front of us. He informs us about the dessert special for the night, but I don’t hear a single word he says. Grey’s eyes are piercing through me, and his lips haven’t softened; instead they grow with amusement that makes my skin crawl. Can he please stop looking at me like that?
The waiter leaves, and I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
He nods his head with his hand covering his mouth. “I’m sorry…but did that make you more nervous, Princess?” He removes his hand and cocks his head to the side while running his index finger around the wine glass.
“You know I am eighteen, right? Technically I can’t drink,” I ramble and laugh nervously, hoping it’d sway him away from the current topic.
He points a finger at me with a smile. “Don’t try to change the subject. Are you nervous? This being your first date and all?” I hate his conceited smile. I want nothing more than to lean over and wipe it off, but I can’t do anything but nervously laugh and wave a hand at him.
“I am not nervous,” I say in a jittery tone. That didn’t make me sound nervous at all…
“Sure you aren’t.” He raises an eyebrow and reaches across the table to grip my hand. It sends wires of sparks snapping through my veins. I smile as he whispers, “You don’t have to be so nervous around me, Princess.”
“I told you, I’m not nervous.” A smile twitches on my lips, and I hum inwardly as he narrows his eyes.
“Really?” he challenges.
“Yes, really,” I say firmly.
His eyes glance down then back to my eyes. “Then why are you fisting the cloth? Even though it’s incredibly sexy because you do the same when I’m eating you out—”
“Shut up!” I hiss but can’t contain the laugh that tumbles out of my lips.
He chuckles. “You don’t need to be tense. I’m supposed to make you feel relaxed, not like a skittish kitten…but speaking of kitties.” He glances down and lets out a horrible sound, his bottom lip taken over by his teeth. He really is insatiable…is it bad that I adore it?
I gasp and rip my hand away from his. I lean back in my seat and playfully kick his shin. His hand slides around my ankle, and he gently tugs me. I’m afraid I’ll fall out my seat—I grip the table and glare at him, masking the surprising arousal he’s causing me.
“Wanna play that game again?” he inquires, his voice smooth as cotton, his eyes sharp as a knife. “Because I have no problem with taking you in the bathroom…” His words send a cold touch to my lips, and I clear my unstable throat. I’m afraid to speak or move, which would indicate that I wouldn’t be too…opposed to the idea. Damn him and his touch.
“Can we please eat?” I pull my foot away from him and sit up in my chair. I can feel my whole body heating up like a furnace. I grab my fork with a slightly trembling hand. His eyes have not once left me. “We haven’t even taken a bite of our food and you’ve already made innuendos and threatened to…you know…do naughty things to me.” I shove a shrimp in my mouth to keep from talking anymore and possibly letting him know how turned on he got me.
“Oh, baby, that wasn’t a threat. It was an offer. One that is still on the table.” He winks at me. I pick up the end of the shrimp I ate and throw it at him. He howls in laughter and chucks it back at me. And another. And another. My screams are not quiet, nor are his, and I’m pretty sure the entire restaurant is wondering who allowed the two teenagers into such a posh restaurant. But I can’t blame them; I’m wondering the same thing.
“Grey! Stop it!” I scream, but I also laugh as I think about how crazy and hilarious this situation is. When the shrimp assault halts, I let my arms slump and know my entire face is as red as one of the tomatoes on my plate. He’s laughing so hard, he has his arms wrapped around him, hunched over. I roll my eyes at his childish ways, pluck a shrimp out of my hair, and toss it at his chest. He picks it up and eats it. I laugh and make a disgusted noise.
“Don’t mess with me when it comes to food fights,” he says. “I was notorious at it when I was in middle school.”
I smile while sipping the crisp wine. It is tangy but sweet enough that it makes my cheeks sizzle but warms my chest as it flows down. Either this brand is popular and expensive or wine, in general, is amazing, because this is exquisite. I admire it before setting it down and glancing at him. He’s chewing, and I watch him with a smile dancing on my lips.
“Tell more about you,” I say and sit up, crossing a leg over another. It brushes his knee, and he smirks but continues eating. “I feel like you’re some mystery and I want to know more.”
He drinks some of the wine. “Maybe later.”
“Oh, come on,” I whine. “This isn’t really a date if I don’t find out embarrassing stories or your zodiac sign, at least.”
He stares at me for a long while, deep in thought. “Fine.” He throws down his napkin and picks up his wineglass, swirling the pale liquid around. “Ask away, but I want to know all about you, too. All of your fears, favorite positions—everything.”
“I don’t have a favorite position.” I feel dirty for even saying it.
His eyes alight. “Not yet…”
I bump the heel of my foot on his shin, and he laughs. But this is good, and I can’t cower out of this once in a lifetime opportunity to learn more about the infamous Grey Wyler.
So I go forward to tell him about my greatest fears, which is dying alone, kind of like my brother did. My throat nearly clogs up when I tell him, and I have to pause for a couple of seconds, chugging back some wine before quickly moving on. I learn that he’s a Leo, he grew up in a small town in Indiana, which I already knew but didn’t bring up, and that he’s striving toward becoming a professional MMA fighter.
The rest of the dinner is spent with laughter and us sharing embarrassing moments, like the time I fell off of the stage and broke my ankle at a ballet recital, which he could not stop laughing about for a solid five minutes, or the time the time he was caught having sex in the science lab by the entire school. I was the one to laugh until I was hunched over. Because of the incident, whenever he entered the lab, everyone started making sex sounds and he’d, according to him, curse their deaths by his fists, which I’m not surprised by one bit. It just sounds like a Grey thing.
I have never felt so connected to him. Tonight, I got to know a side of him I am almost certain n
o one else has gotten the pleasure to see in a long time, if at all. He doesn’t suddenly flip a switch and leave me at the table. I don’t bring something up that turns him off. And most importantly, his damned phone doesn’t ring with a call from his ex. In fact, as if to sweeten the night, he’s cut Diana out of his life, telling her that I was his and to not mess with us. In that moment, I felt the world lift from my shoulders and wave away his past wrongs, paving way for our future.
Now, we’re walking to the last part of our date. Apparently, according to him, to fulfill the cheesy piece of shit movies he somehow just knew I admired, which I do, we have to watch a movie. I didn’t complain one bit. I love how he took the time to research what makes a date that I would appreciate. It’s very unexpected but valued.
I let him wrap an arm around me as we walk. I smile when he leans down and tenderly presses his lips to my hair.
“What was that for?” I ask as I look up at him.
He shrugs and brushes his thumb against my bottom lip. “Just ’cause I felt like it.”
I smile and look back down. A man walks past us, and I roll my eyes. “Was it because that guy was passing us?”
His face is voice of any emotions before he shrugs and says, “Maybe…”
I pinch his side, and he laughs and tickles my ribs. “Not here!”
“Then in my bed. You said it, not me.” He leans down and playfully bites my neck. I scream his name, and he picks me up and spins around, making me lean back and erupt into loud laughter, drawing the attention of people walking past.
“Let me down, Wyler!”
“Your wish is my command.” He lets me down and twirls me against his chest and walks behind me, pressing his face in the side of my head. “And when we go back to my place, I’ll go down on you.”
“Do you always have to think so damn sexually?” I ask, raising my eyebrows as we near the cinema.
He hums and whispers in my ear, “When it comes to you…yes. And, by the way, I’d love to come with you, if you know what I mean.” I can hear the crude smirk in his words even though I can’t see him.
Grey: The Infatuation (Spectrum Series Book 2) Page 4
