(Los Santos Series #1 || When Ray Mond graduated college, she decided to follow her brother to another city named Los Santos after the divorce of their parents and the death of their mother. And the moment Ray stepped foot in Los Santos, she became...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
D-3
After what feels like years for Ray, she finally convinced Randy to do a heist with the gang because she knew they needed him. Randy protested—hard, but Ray wasn't having it since she didn't know what went through in Randy's unconsciousness. She just thought that Randy was being lazy, but he was just terrified.
"Ray, come with me," Randy said for the millionth time after they got off the bed. "I'll bring you with me," he said.
"Randy, what's going on?" Ray put the plate in the sink and turned to face Randy. "What was your dream about?" she asked. For all those months she had slept with him on the same bed, this was her first time seeing him having a nightmare. "Are you stressed, Randy?" she asked, worried for her friend.
"Nothing, Ray." He dismissed the topic as if he was in a hurry because he didn't want to think about it again.
But Ray was stern. "Tell me what happened," she said. She grabbed the man's hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. "Come on, talk." She signaled him to go to the living room, which they did just because Ray pulled him there.
Randy heaved out a sigh as soon as they sat on her couch. She put their intertwined hands on his lap and put her chin on his shoulder as she was looking at him. "You had an anxiety attack." Finally, Randy started speaking. "And I talked you out of it. Days later, we had an argument. Hurtful things have been said." He paused as he re-lived the nightmare in his head. "And then you killed yourself with the knife I gave you," he said as he looked at her, their faces were too close to each other. "7 deep cuts on your wrist ended your life, Ray." He exhaled sharply when he remembered what he just saw, "You can't do that to me, Ray." His brows furrowed at her charcoal-gray eyes. "You can't die on me."
Ray's eyes grazed from his eyes to his lips and then back to his warm-toned eyes as she smiled. "Then, I won't." She pressed her lips on his lightly. It was just a light brush against his lips, but it sent a million volts to her. "Damn! You really care about me, huh?" she said, her voice teasing.
The British man rolled his eyes at her silliness. "No, I don't care about you." Ray let out a knowing laugh because she knew it was just his defense mechanism. She knew that he cared because she could see it.
"Whatever you say, Randy," she said, removing her hands from his firm grasp. "I'm gonna hang out with my girls today. Have fun with your job," she added as she walked back to the kitchen.
"You know you could do a heist with us, right?" he said, tailing her as per usual. Then he sat on the dining table, watching her carefully.
Ray remained silent as she tilted her head, thinking it thoroughly. Then all of a sudden, she felt Randy's hands snaking from behind her, holding her like she was something precious. "Okay," she finally said. "I'll go with you." She nodded her head as she washed the dishes, with Randy still clinging to her. She let out a small chuckle when she remembered him saying that he hates hugs—he still does, though. He just doesn't hate Ray's. "Whatever happened to that Jagger guy?" she asked when she remembered him. "Is he still alive?" she asked.
