What A Secret Looks Like | ✓

17: tessa

Spain was keeping me plenty busy. I'd been in three different shows, and it was a nice chance to brush up on the Spanish language and culture. I'd been called a stick in the mud every single day of the trip, and I think I was genuinely going to hit the next person that told me that.

So I kept the makeup and hair extensions from my shoot today instead of taking everything off. I decided that going out would be the perfect thing to take my mind of Grayson.

Sophie was here with me and I'd managed to convince her that the reason I'd left so abruptly last time was because I had the stomach flu. I don't think she entirely believed me, but it was enough that she stopped questioning me about it.

"What about your boyfriend?" She asks hesitantly as I take another shot.

I don't care anymore. If he doesn't care then why should I? "We broke up, and I'm tired of everyone telling me I'm not fun because I know how to have fun."

She looks skeptical, but doesn't say much more than that before taking another drink of her own glass sitting in front of her. The outfit I'm wearing right now is very similar to the one I was wearing the same night I met Grayson. Instead of a dress, it's a short leather skirt paired with a twisted metal linked shirt that covers enough to leave a mystery, but shows enough to catch your eye. Sophie grabbed my leather jacket after I left the club, and had been holding onto it for me. I'm eternally grateful for this because I've had this one for so long that I couldn't believe I'd lost it.

The weight of my hair is heavier than I remember as I dance, hopping from guy to guy, never staying longer than a few minutes at a time.

As short of time I've known Grayson, it should be easy to forget him.

I don't know what the guy I'm dancing with looks like because of the dimness of the room even with the flashing lights. I don't shy away as his hands grip my hips gently.

The hands are warm and I'm thinking the alcohol I've drank is playing a factor as I rotate to see him, the lights highlighting the curves and edges of his face. A smirk plays on his mouth as I rest my hand on his chest, using it as a way of balancing to push myself up to kiss him. He responds within moments of me doing so.

It feels like we've been here for only an hour, but I know that's not the case because of the amount of songs that've changed, even though they all have the same general beat. The guy I was dancing with had pulled me to the bar, and I really got a chance to see his face.

His brown hair was shorter than Grayson's, and normally I'd be turned off by the way he's holding himself. It's almost like he's aware of the way he looks, but I could care less. "You have the most beautiful eyes," He compliments loudly in a thick accent, brushing a knuckle across my cheekbone.

'That's what Grayson said the night we met,' I think, trying to push that realization back. "Thanks," I smile back to him. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" I ask, and the smirk on his face grows, but all I'm thinking about is putting Gray behind me.

"Do you want to go back to my place?" He asks with unwavering eye contact, even though I'm showing more skin than I'm hiding. I have to give him credit for that.

I nod, and his hand encompasses mine as I allow him to lead me out of the crowded room onto the street where he kisses me deeply again, making my knees fall weak. My only option to continue standing up is to hold onto him. If I'd known better, I'd think he did it on purpose.

He hails a taxi rather quickly, and I've always sworn I'd never be one of those people that made it awkward for taxi drivers, but there wasn't really time for talking because of how distracting he was. It was worse in the elevator as we stumbled through the lobby, laughing like idiots before I'm leaning against the wall of the elevator, playing with his hair as his lips play with mine.

"So am I allowed to ask why you're in a hotel?" He asks, sitting on the bed as I take off my leather jacket, tossing it onto the arm of the chair in the corner of the room.

"Work," The shoes are pulled off my feet, and they thank me as they meet the plush carpeting instead of the sole of a four inch pair of stilettos.

"What kind of work?" He's roaming his eyes from the bottom of my long legs, back up to my face.

God Gray didn't talk this much during our one night stand from what I can remember. "I'm here for the Spanish version of fashion week because I'm a model." I explain, doing my best to distract him from conversation by pulling the chainlink shirt up over my head. It leaves me only in the leather skirt and a skimpy bralette until even the leather skirt is slipped off.

His eyes light up, "Do you think you could put me in contact with some reps?" I roll my eyes, moving closer to the bed to straddle his lap.

"Look you're pretty and I want to have sex with you, but you need to stop talking." I bluntly say, using my position as an advantage to pull his shirt up over his head.

Our clothes lay in tangled piles on the floor, and I think that coming home with him, even though I didn't know his name, will be a decision I won't regret. But I think that maybe not getting his name is a decision I will regret.

As I kiss this man, my mind wanders to Grayson who had already left his touch on every inch of me. It wasn't all rushed and blindly felt; there was meaning behind it, but that's gone now because of what I did. It all keeps circling back to that moment.

This man is fumbling with the back of my bralette like an amateur, and it makes me question as to wether I actually want to do this? He's practically a man-child.

There's a short break where I press my mouth against the nape of his neck, and then he says it. "How old were you when you got discovered?"

I don't think anything could have convinced me to go through with it after he said that. I untangle myself from him, laying on the bed with a huff. "You need to go."

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, "What?"

"You're clearly more interested in my career than you are in me so get out."

His shoulders are too wide, his face too angular, his eyes too brown. I'm mad because trying to substitute Gray with someone that's all wrong because he isn't Grayson. And I think I'm even more mad at myself because I'm too stubborn to actually call Grayson and try to apologize until he hears me because I am sorry.

The irritated man grabs his shirt off the ground, clearly bothered by the blow to his ego by me sending him away. I could care less, even after he all but slams the door behind him.

I want to be able to tell him about what happened four years ago, I just don't know where to begin. It's not an excuse for what I did in running away, nor is it one for why I lied to Liam. But its the only explanation I have.

I just don't want him to be disgusted by how weak I was at the time that I couldn't bring myself to speak up. How weak I still am that the scent of pine and peppermint can send me into a full blown meltdown.

My phone is on the floor in the pile of my clothes, but I don't reach for it because maybe he's better off without me continuing to mess up his life.