I giggle. “Mission accomplished, you were definitely that.” He smirks, his mask of seriousness melting away.
“Then you kept on arguing, and I rather enjoyed it. Just so you know, you’re cute as hell when you get worked up. When you walked away as if nothing had just happened, I was desperate to get your attention again, despite the fact I’d just been rude in order to get you away from me. So, I yelled out some shit about never apologizing, although I didn’t really care. It was, after all, an accident.” He nudges me playfully with his shoulder. “When you showed up later on that evening, having befriended Lyra, I knew I couldn’t exactly be rude anymore, because my sister needed a friend above all else. Sorry for unloading, you wanted honesty,” he makes his finger like a gun pointing at me and says with a wink, “you got it.”
“So, basically what I’m hearing, since we’re speaking freely at the moment… is that we’re both hopelessly attracted to each other, and it’s going to end in our own demise,” I joke, but I’m actually kind of serious. I want to set the record straight, and I kind of have an idea I’d like to run by him. One that would be suitable to me without compromising my beliefs in relationships, and hopefully, I can persuade him into agreeing to.
“Kind of seems that way, doesn’t it,” he agrees.
Now’s my chance.
Here’s where it’s going to get tricky. Mastering the art of persuasion, while having no practice, and all in a matter of seconds. I think about all the times I’ve watched my mom, who’s luckily the type of woman who can have a man eating out of the palm of her hand whenever she pleases, and all the other common knowledge I can think of on the subject.
“Gray, I have to tell you something…” I face him full on, crossing my arms so that my breasts perk up to “in your face” status, and bashfully bite my lip for a moment. “I’ve suddenly been experiencing all this pent-up sexual frustration that I just need to release. And the thing is, I could hook up with someone at school. It would probably be fairly easy, but I don’t want to go mess with some random guy, one who likely doesn’t even know what he’s doing…” I hint, hoping he’ll take the bait.
His grip on my hand tenses and his posture is rigid, nostrils flared and breathing increased. I’m unsure at this point whether it’s anger, or desire he’s exhibiting, but I keep going anyway. “I obviously have raging hormones, you know, it comes with the age,” I say as I calculatedly trail my fingertips along his biceps.
“I have needs. I don’t want people at school to call me a slut, and I don’t just want anyone… I want you. The thing is, I consider you my friend, and more importantly, I feel safe with you. So, I was hoping you’d consider my offer of friends-with-benefits. We’re both attracted to each other, so it’s basically a win-win situation to both parties involved,” I suggest, allowing him a moment to digest my words.
I’m completely out of my element, and completely vulnerable in this moment. If he flat out says no, and refuses, it would be soul-crushing and all of the self-confidence I’ve gained since I move here would crumble. Please, say yes. The world stands still. Time stops. Cue the chirping crickets.
He releases my hand to rake his hands through his thick tresses, letting them linger there as he rests his elbows on his bent knees. Although he’s slowly shaking his head in disbelief, he’s not said no yet like I was afraid he would. He’s torn.
I might still have a small chance at victory, if I play my cards right, that is.
Mustering up the last bit of remaining courage, I put on the act of a freaking lifetime. False air of confidence? Check. Sultry Scarlett Johansson voice? Oh, yeah. Taking his hands and prying them from his hair, I move his arms out of the way as I crawl between his legs and into his lap, straddling him. Demanding his undivided attention, my knuckles softly nudge his chin up so that I can connect with him. His eyes are burning wildly with desire, but I still detect hesitance.
“This would be only between us, and it’s only our business. If it’s only our business, and if kept that way, it won’t involve or effect anyone else. I’ve never felt such an intense attraction for someone before.” Correction, for anyone. Ever. “I don’t expect anything but friendship, and hopefully a few orgasms,” I throw in a smile as I tease.
“It just doesn’t make sense to engage in random hook-ups when what I really want… Is you,” I reiterate again, surprising even myself. Like a completely different person, I’ve never spoken such bold words and I’m unsure of it stemming from being an adult or just being around Gray. Pretty sure, it’s just him.
Then, just like earlier this morning, I lean in and claim his lips. Only this time, it’s slow. Deliberate. A kiss full of promise. He searches my eyes as if trying to find all the answers as I pull away. “Just think about it. I know you value your reputation, and that you have certain beliefs I may not necessarily understand. For the record, I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with our age difference, and in the eyes of the law, I’m an adult so it’s not technically bad. What’s bad is denying ourselves the chance to explore these feelings. So, just think about it. Think about it for at least a few days before you come back and tell me no.”
I give him one more peck, before removing myself from his lap.
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. No more mentions of sexual propositions, no more talk of anything in the way of relationships at all. When we return to the Fall Festival that evening the atmosphere is perfect. With the sinking sun amplifying the newly changing leaves, and the pleasantly crisp air replacing the heat of earlier, walking around is more enjoyable.
True to his word, I get to participate in the cakewalk, which I must admit, is every bit as fun as I had anticipated. And, knowing that the cakewalk was important to him, I donate a five-dollar bill for each walk I take, as opposed to the suggested “whatever you can afford.” My motivations are a bit selfish in wanting to impress him, but I also deeply believe in this cause.
The music starts up again, and with this current walk, I’ve now donated twenty-five dollars. The melody stops, and I take a leap onto the next square, number twenty-five ironically.
“Number twenty-two,” the announcer calls. Bummer. He repeats it again, but no one speaks up. Glancing behind me, I see that the square in question is empty. Making eye contact with the speaker, I shake my head. He reaches in to grab another number.
“Number twenty-five,” he calls out.
“YES!” I fist pump the air, jumping up and down excitedly as my eyes seeks Gray’s. I smile victoriously. Pleased to find a Red Velvet cake made by the local bakery, I stake my claim.
When we finally call it a night and head back to the house, I tell Gray that I’ll sleep on the couch so that I don’t disturb Lyra or risk catching whatever she has. He brings me two blankets and two pillows (probably overkill) from the upstairs linen closet. His large masculine frame takes up most of the doorway as he lingers there.
“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?” he asks for the fifth time.
“Yes Gray, if I can sleep in a car on more than one occasion I’m sure I can handle a couch. It’ll be ten times more comfortable than a vehicle, believe me,” I admit.
“Okay,” he replies hesitantly. We stare each other down, a back and forth banter of the eyes, fueled by unanswered questions and desire. “If you need anything tonight, Sloane, just knock on my bedroom door.”
I want to ask just what “anything” covers, but I refrain, smiling instead. “Thanks Gray, I had an awesome birthday.” He nods in my direction then slips out of sight. I’m not sure how long it takes me to drift off to sleep, but it must be pretty instantaneous.
XoXo
Valley, Age 6
The voice of a man wakes me from my sleep. It’s not the villainous tone of my father. I listen closely, hearing the muffled conversation carrying up the stairs. The crack in my door provides a small amount of light from the outside highway. Luckily, it’s just enough to create a clear path from my bed to
the door.
Pulling away my fluffy, pink comforter, I slip slowly onto the floor, tiptoeing across the lighted path. Yow! I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out as pain stabs into my foot. Bending down, I begin feeling around to find the culprit—my hand landing on a leftover Lego. I should have listened to Mama when she said to pick up my toys earlier, but I was too busy reading my fairytales.
Tossing it against the wall, I continue on my way, the voices becoming more clear the closer I get.
“It’s time, Althia. You have to go. Look at your face!” My Uncle Jameson bellows the last part. I know what he’s talking about. Mommy’s beautiful face, the face of an angel, has a large ugly splotch on it. Usually I think purple is a pretty color, one that princesses wear, and Mommy is even more than a princess. She’s a Queen. I know, because Uncle Jameson once told her she was the queen of his heart, I heard him whisper it to her.
But this color of purple showed up after I heard Mama and Father fighting one night. She screamed, and I heard a sound like when I slap at the water when I’m playing in it, so I don’t think this is a good color of purple.
“Thia, he has it in his head that Valley isn’t his. I overheard him on the phone with someone the other day as I was waiting outside his door. He was talking about a paternity test. He’ll kill you both. You’re an object to him, and she’s nothing.”
I’m not nothing, I want to tell him. But if I say anything, I’ll be put back to bed.
Mama sniffs, and I wonder if she’s crying, and if so, why is she sad?
“But you’re not coming are you?” Mama’s voice shakes as she speaks.
“Who’s going to look out for you when he starts tearing apart the city, and then the country, looking for you two? I don’t have a choice, Thia, I have to be here for damage control. It’s you and V’s only shot at having a chance, me giving you counter-intel on the matter.”
“No.” Mama argues, but she sounds defeated, like she’s lost something valuable.
“I wish it wasn’t this way. Maybe one day, things will change. I’ll come find you. But, if you aren’t going to do it for yourself, do it for Valley. You owe her that, and I love you both. It’s my job to protect her, and you. Even if it’s from my brother. Even if it kills me, physically and soulfully.”
XoXo
“Sloane.” I wake with a start, confused and slightly sweaty, the dream I was just living still assaulting me. It always ends at the same part, never providing me with any more information and always leaving me more confused than ever. I force my eyelids to peel open, finding familiar amber ones, full of concern, staring back at me.
“Gray?” I ask, grogginess still coming in waves.
“Are you okay? I came down for a glass of water, and you were having a bad dream,” he explains.
I throw my legs over the edge of the couch and sit upright, as he sits and takes the spot beside me. “I’m okay, but it felt so real. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep,” I admit, rubbing my hands down my face.
“I can’t sleep either, that’s why I came down for the water. Hey, why don’t we cut us some of that Red Velvet cake you won earlier, head on up to my room, and watch a movie. Then, you can tell me what your dream was about if you’d like. But the coming upstairs with me part so that I can make sure you’re okay, that isn’t negotiable.”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Wait right here, and I’ll grab us each a piece to take up,” he demands, retreating to the kitchen. He comes out a few minutes later, holding one plate with two pieces of cake, and two spoons. I raise my eyebrows at the single, solitary plate.
“Figure it’ll be easier for carrying and cleanup,” he explains, before pulling me into standing position.
When I walk into his room, I look around and take everything in. There’s no posters on the wall or anything like that. The décor is similar to that of the rest of the house, just more masculine. He has a flat screen that’s every bit as big as the one downstairs. His giant bedframe is made from a dark cherry-stained wood with a satiny all-black comforter, and is flanked by two matching nightstands at both sides. One side contains three picture frames illuminated by the lamp beside them.
Surprisingly, everything is squared away, completely devoid of clutter. Repurposed crates that have been stained and lacquered, bulkily take up one corner of the room, stacked in such a way they double as shelves. They’re packed full of books.
The best part of his room, though, is the fragrance. It’s a heady mixture of the masculinity that is all Gray, clean and refreshing with a hint of spiciness. It infuses the air like a pine tree at Christmas.
Taking a seat closest to the picture frames, I pick one up to examine it. A young Gray is holding little Lyra on his shoulders while she looks down at him adoringly. I place it back, and pick up the next one containing a picture of all four family members in front of a waterfall, from the outfits they’re wearing, I’m assuming they were taking a hike and stopped to take a photo.
The final picture is one of his mother standing barefoot outside on the front porch of the same house we’re in now. Her hair hanging in a loose braid, her white eyelet dress showcases a very rounded stomach as Gray holds her hand glancing sheepishly at the camera. “Your mother was very beautiful,” I compliment, not knowing what to say because everything feels inadequate. I return this particular photo with the utmost of care.
“Thanks,” he conveys simply, before asking, “do you want to watch something? I don’t care what, as long as it’s not Clueless or Legally Blonde.”
“Not a fan of those?” I tease.
“No, I love them,” he imparts sardonically, “I’ve just watched them too many times already.”
I laugh at him.
“Surprise me.”
It’s no surprise at all when he puts on the DVD for Sons of Anarchy, Season 5. Typical male. Although I’ll admit, the main character IS nice to look at and the storyline’s fairly intriguing from what I’ve caught of it before. The bed dips as he takes a seat next to me, placing the plate of cake on the nightstand beside him for the time being. He snuggles up so close to me, we’re cemented together from shoulder to elbow, and he pulls the blanket over my legs and then his own.
“You’re not going to get all presumptuous on me just because we’re in bed together, are you?” he jokes. I’m a nervous wreck. The closeness, the scent of him everywhere, all the dirty thoughts about this being his bed, it’s all overwhelming, and then he has to go and make a damn joke about all of that.
Sporadically and out of nowhere, an onslaught of images from my nightmare reemerge without warning, causing goosebumps erupt over my entire body. I’m physically shaking uncontrollably, and damn if he doesn’t notice. The look of concern on his face is sympathetic, as he gathers me up into his arms and begins running his hands over me in an attempt to create friction.
“Hey, I was just joking. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he fires off the questions so rapidly that there’s no time in between to formulate an answer. “What can I do?”
Taking a deep breath, I cozy up to him and wrap my arms around his torso, leaning my face against his broad chest. He rests his chin on top of my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s nothing to w-w-worry about, Gray. Maybe my body is just still in shock and sensitive over the nightmare I had,” I say as my teeth chatter, “or maybe it has something to do with my body and my mind being in shock that I’m in your bed,” I try to tease my way through the shudders.
“There she is.” Discernibly satisfied that I’m okay, he releases me and jumps out of the bed for a mere moment, before returning with the throw-blanket from the chair by the window. Placing it snugly around my shoulders and back, he’s now made me a certified abominable snowman made of blankets. He places the Red Velvet cake between us on the bed.
“Maybe your sugar is low, cake is the answer. If you’re sugar isn’t low… cake’s still the answer,” he rationalizes, taking a big spoonful and sho
veling it into his mouth. “Just don’t get any of it on my comforter, or you’ll leave me no choice but to come up with a severe punishment.”
I take my own bite, and the combination of chocolate and cream cheese frosting has me practically purring. It’s no secret that Red Velvet is my favorite cake, as well as my favorite shade. “Mmmmm…” I moan, relishing in the flavors, flipping the spoon upside-down and running the curved part over my tongue so that I get every last bit. I didn’t even realize I’d closed my eyes until they flutter open to find Gray watching me, a glint to his gaze that can only be described as… dangerous.
“Sloane…” his voice comes out raw, and he quickly clears his throat.
“Yes, Gray?”
“You can’t sit in a man’s bed and act like that, make noises like that, and expect me to remain a perfect gentleman,” he utters, voice lower than usual, and even more velvety than the cake we’re eating.
“Why not?” I whisper, throwing caution to the wind. It should be a crime, the way he makes me crave his attention, the way he feeds my desire. It’s a never-ending cycle.
“Because I want to be the reason you’re making those noises,” he practically growls.
I’m not sure what possesses me as I take my finger and drag it along the icing. I’ve abandoned all my morals, all my lessons of being prim and proper.
Classiness be damned.
I’m shameless and wanton in this moment. Placing it between my lips, and never breaking eye contact with Gray, I suck. It’s a challenge. A dare. It may as well be an ultimatum.
Gray grabs the plate and it clatters violently onto the nightstand. Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, I’m flat on my back. He’s hovering over me, arms on either side of my head, caging me in. The tension in the air is palpable as it surges around us. He smirks down at me.
Love on the Run Page 20
