HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

SEVENTEEN.

GRAYSON IS LOST IN THE cacophony of the typical 'Central Hospital' noise; discordant voices, wild trolleys, unnerving footsteps, baby wails etc. Let's not forget the bothering cleavage of the attendant on the other side of the counter.

"Sir!"

Grayson shakes the holy-water-worthy thoughts of the plethora of things he can do with her watermelons. Grayson doesn't know why he's doing this but his emotions hasn't been stable these days. He's like an incubus who lives off sex. He needs a good fuck to relieve his sanity. "Yeah, what?"

"You were asking for Dr. George?" Her pasty Asian face is round, surprisingly adorned with doe eyes - Grayson thinks all Asian's eyes are like needles - and is getting irritable by the minute.

"Oh yeah, when is the psycho going to be available?" By pyscho, Grayson means psychologist. And by psychologist, Grayson means Dr. George, his mom's personal therapist who is partially sponsored by Grayson. Alice may have sneaked in some of his dad's money for this but Grayson won't go an inch near his bloody blood money.

"Thursday -"

"Fuck! I knew I should've called him sooner." He was too busy deliberately misplacing biology projects just to spend time with a certain ginger. The certain ginger whose cologne is currently teasing Grayson's nostrils. He eyes the man beside him, he uses the same cologne as Alejandro?

"Hello."

"Hi. Uhm, sorry have we met before?" The tall guy who looks in his early twenties or possibly post-highschool stares him down. His thick, cupreous eyebrows furrows at Grayson like trying to pick a lock to a memory vault.

"You probably don't remember me but I'm Alejandro's friend -" Grayson coughs, "- classmate, Grayson."

The man's left eyebrow rises sharply. Grayson can only wonder how people do that. He thought it exists only in movies.

"We met the other day. I came over to your place for a school project." Grayson throws his hands around in nervous gestures. Because he is nervous. The man's aura is just too condescending. From his Derek Hale physique to his elegant brassy hair. Even his clothes and accessories scream money. His deep-set russet irises and well-aligned jawline aren't helping either. Surprisingly his voice is ironical to his appearance. It is soft, inviting and so light.

Definitely not like Alejandro's which is full of haughtiness and spite.

His mouth forms an O shape of realization before his bold eyeballs eye Grayson up and down.

"Oh, you're that blondie he was fucking in his room!"

Oh my gosh, he's so freaking loud! Grayson shifts uncomfortably on the spot like his boxers is itching nuts.

"I guess we've not been properly introduced. I'm Ambrose Bale."

Grayson blank stare can never be more embarrassing. He gazes at Ambrose's outstretched arm for a while in confusion before a bulb goes off in his head. Grayson mentally facepalms and shakes the other guy's firm hand.

"Grayson Jackson."

Ambrose has a rather amusing look on his face before shaking it off. "So, what brings you here to the hospital?"