Shifting Gears

26. Consequences of Not Defining This

"You gonna answer, Lawson?"

"You're that redhead who was at the diner with Greyson, weren't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "That's right. Now what are you doing here?"

I held up my hands defensively. "Just passing through, don't mind me."

"Why are you around Grey so much?"

I clenched my jaw as she said his name, crossing my own arms over my dark green tee shirt. "What're you talking about?"

"I see you with him."

"There's nothing going on."

She snorted, her brown eyes sparkling with glee. "I know there's nothing going on, he would have told me."

"So then why'd you ask?"

She ignored me, inspecting her nails. "Greyson's mine, you know."

I raised an eyebrow. My stomach was churning. Not in the mood for this today. "Is that right?"

"He told me. I'm waiting for him now, he asked if he could see me after his race. He's finally taking me on another date tonight."

The other girls cheered for her, talking about how she deserved it and she's so lucky and Greyson's so hot and whatever else went through their minds, but they sounded muffled. My heart was pounding, and I hoped with everything in me that my face didn't show my reaction to her words.

She stared at me, triumphantly, waiting for me to answer.

I inhaled deeply. My stomach felt like I swallowed a brick. "Good for you."

With that, I turned on my heel, stalking off. I could feel her eyes in my back. She had to be lying. She had to be.

My feet kicked at the mud underneath my Nikes. I heard someone call out to me, but I pretended I didn't hear as I stomped my way toward the Shop to exit. My vision was a blurring. I felt so frustrated and so annoyed and just needed to get out of here.

Bikes were racing by, people chattering, I could hear Uncle Phil recounting the stats of the races so far. I grit my teeth as I heard Greyson's name. 

I finally reached the parking lot. There was something going on with concessions, half off something, and an event the track was throwing soon, so there was no one else leaving. I weaved alone between the parked cars, muttering choice words under my breath.

When I was squeezing between a Camry and an old Jeep Patriot, both parked terribly, I heard someone shout behind me.

"Cory!"

I whirled around.

Greyson was still in his racing gear, even his boots, which clanked awkwardly on the worn asphalt. He looked like he'd been chasing me, he was out of breath.

"How do you walk so fast—"

"What do you want?" My voice snapped harsher than I meant.

He stopped, a few feet away, eyeing me warily.

"I just—I wanted to, uh—"

"Yes?" I crossed my arms, raising my eyebrows at him. His emerald eyes flashed with annoyance at my attitude.

He huffed, obviously contemplating if he still wanted to say his words. Sweat lined his forehead. He'd just finished his race—so that was partially why he was still breathing heavily.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry. For how I was acting earlier at my trailer before the race—"

"It's fine," I said, sweet innocence oozing through my words.

He raised an eyebrow. "So what's up with you now?"

I grit my teeth. "Nothing, just need to head out to get some work done. You better get going too, wouldn't want to miss your date."

Greyson's dark eyebrows knit together. "What're you talking about?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms. My anger was making me bold, it was like a hand reaching into my chest and pulling words out. "Yeah, okay. You know what? You can do that. Because we haven't even defined 'this'—I guess it's my fault for not wanting to do that, right? So yeah. You think you're free to keep messing around, guess you're right."

"Cory, what the hell are you talking about—"

"Save it, Greyson."

He threw his hands in the air, his eyes following. "Are you kidding me, Cory? I literally just came here to apologize and I have no idea what you're saying."

"Well, why don't you ask Meagan?"

Greyson's eyes darkened. He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing. "Ask her what?"

I shook my head, scoffing. A few people were spilling out onto the parking lot, so I turned, continuing to my car.

"You know, maybe it is your fault."

I stopped at Greyson's words. He kept talking, his voice rivaling my anger. "Maybe you're scared, or ashamed of me, so you don't want to define this. So you don't have any right to be mad at anything."

I whirled around. "So you're admitting it?"

"I still have no idea what you're talking about, Cory," he stated firmly, voice low. His green eyes were simmering, and his shoulders tightened. "I'm not admitting to anything. But I'm saying you can't sit there and act like you own my attention but then run away when anyone gets close to seeing you with me."

I stepped up to him, lifting my chin to meet his furious gaze. I hated that I had to crane my neck so much just to meet his gaze.

"So stop seeing me then."

Greyson shook his head. "What're you saying?"

"If this makes you so upset—"

"I'm the one acting upset?"

"If this makes you so upset! Then just stop seeing me."

Greyson scoffed again. His eyes searched my face, and I forbade it to make any sign of trembling, to show any sign that his gaze on me made my skin shiver.

"What do you want, Cory?" His voice was curious—harsh, but curious.

I balled my fists.

Truthfully, I was just as frustrated at myself. I was right in saying I hadn't wanted to define this—so technically, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

What did I want?

"Forget it, I don't have time for this," Greyson muttered, leaning in to be inches from my face. "Maybe I will stop seeing you, Lawson—until you can tell me what you want."

"Fine."

"Fine."

We both fell silent, fuming, our chests rising and falling in sync. His emerald eyes were darkened with emotion, and I knew mine were stormier than the rain and thunder that day we first kissed.

My eyes fell to his lips.

My breathing got shallow. He leaned even closer—he'd stopped breathing. His face so close to mine felt like trying to hold apart magnets.

My senses seemed to shut off and sharpen all at once. My inhale was shaky.

Greyson leaned in slowly, but then stopped, his eyes hardening. "Fine."

He turned around, storming back out of the parking lot—not even sparing a glance back. Oxygen flooded me at a normal rate now.

I glowered at his back, exhaling sharply.

Fine.

I pivoted, trudging to my car, lengthening the distance between us.