🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.19.

I splashed some cool water on my face and waited to see if my eyeliner would melt. Thanks to Rebecca's miraculous makeup job it stayed put, but I still looked red and puffy from crying.

Safely away from the gallery and hidden in the shabby bathroom of a noisy bar, I was finally able to think and cry without the distraction of Gray right in front of me. 

Only, I didn't know what to do with Gray's sudden revelation.

I couldn't quite process that he had been lying for Elijah for years.

And, to add insult to injury, I was going to be working with Gray for at least six months, so the subject was definitely going to come up again.

Maybe I could tell Braxton that I accidentally gave him the wrong portfolio. Or, maybe I would move to Los Angeles with Rebecca and get the hell out of Seattle. The city was getting too small for my own good anyway.

I yanked the rusted metal door to the lady's room open, only to find Gray in the filthy hallway on the other side.

He'd inserted himself at the front of a short line of women. His eyes searched mine, not even noticing the flirty looks he was getting from his many admirers in the queue.

"Are you alright?" His brow furrowed with worry.

"So good," I insisted, pushing past him into the short, dank hallway that smelled like old cigarettes.

Newspaper clippings shellacked to the wall reflected the neon beer signs illuminating my way out. I hurried toward the warm crowd of happy drunks beyond.

"Isla, wait!" A hand caught mine, shooting unexpected electricity through my veins to seize my mind.

I spun to find Gray staring at his tattooed hand like he'd been bitten by a snake.

He felt it too.

My fingers were still tingling from the strange sensation. Slowly, Gray looked up at me.

Our eyes caught once again in that infinite loop that inextricably bound us in a way I couldn't understand or escape. No matter how much I wanted to flee, we were suspended at the mercy of its galvanizing power.

"What the hell, dude?!" Bart's voice barked over the carefree laughter of the bar, breaking the hex binding my gaze to Gray's. "Why did you run out like that? Oh!"

Bart did an exaggerated double-take like a cartoon character, his eyes bulging at the sight of me. "Hi, Isla. What're you doing here?"

"Hi, Bart," I gave him an awkward smile and a wave, grateful that he'd just interrupted. "I was just leaving, actually. Good to see you."

I dove into the crowded bar to escape my embarrassment.

Safely outside, I checked my phone to find six texts from Rebecca, the last in all caps.

'CALL ME CHICA'

I obliged as I hoofed down the empty sidewalk in the opposite direction of the gallery.

"What the what?" Rebecca sounded pissed off, and a little worried (but mostly angry). "Where did you go, chica?"

"I needed to get some air," I wasn't fibbing, but I wasn't telling her the whole truth. "I think I'm gonna go home."

The frigid air was biting my cheeks and clearing my boozy haze. It was at least twelve blocks back to Rebecca's apartment on Capitol Hill, and most of that was hiking up steep concrete inclines, but I didn't care.

"You cannot leave without me!" Rebecca cried. "Where are you? I'll come get you. Gray bailed on his own show, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I kind of can," My acidic chuckle held no laughter.