Things have been so busy lately! I'm so sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)
Chapter 6
I squinted down at the paper in front of me, biting my lip as I reconsidered my wording in the conclusion. It seemed smooth and it flowed nicely. I’d spent an entire week editing the damn thing, painstakingly going over each and every detail until it was as polished as it was going to get.
Still...
Was it enough?
The last time I’d given Mr. Ford a paper, he’d given me an A minus. He’d told me to work harder.
Hah.
Well, this paper was pretty damn near perfect. I’d done extra reading, scouring the library until I’d found every single book on the subject, forgoing sleep so I didn’t miss anything.
So I never had to see another minus again.
If he had a problem with my paper this time, maybe it wasn’t my writing that bothered him.
Maybe it was just me.
Wouldn’t be the first time, I thought as my father walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, not even once glancing in my direction. I sat on a stool at the island in the centre of the open concept kitchen. I was pretty hard to miss.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice soft, as if I was afraid any loud noise might startle him, might make him realize the resident pariah was in the same room as him.
He just grunted, pouring himself a cup of coffee and grabbing a muffin before taking a seat across from me.
Well, he sat sort of diagonally from me.
As in, the furthest seat he could be from me.
My chest tightened slightly and I felt my heart stutter a bit before resuming at a faster pace, making my breathing pick up.
I bit my lip as I discretely studied my father while he read the paper, wondering what it was that made this so hard for us. Why was it that other families existed together with such ease? They laughed and watched cartoons and had actual conversations. What was it about me that made it so difficult?
You’re crazy.
My eyes came to rest on my paper again and I winced inwardly, seeing the way the bottom of the pages lined up perfectly with the edge of the counter and the way my muffin was cut into four equal parts so precise that they looked almost measured.
I cleared my throat trying to ignore the way my heart was racing as I stood to get a glass of water. “Dad, would you like a―”
“Morning, Daddy,” Paige said, waltzing into the kitchen and planting a kiss on my father’s cheek. I watched, frozen, as his eyes lit up and the wrinkles that had been bunching his forehead smoothed out.
“Morning, Paige,” he said warmly. “Tell me,” he continued, turning his attention back to the newspaper as Paige made a bowl of cereal, ignoring me, “are you planning on actually attending school today?”
Paige shrugged, sending a grin over her shoulder towards my dad. “I hadn’t decided yet.”
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head before turning the page.
“What the hell are you doing, freak?”
I blinked at Paige, realizing that she was staring at me as I held a glass clutched in my fingers, close to my chest, holding it as if it were precious.
It was precious. At that moment, that glass in my hands, felt like the only thing keeping me sane, the only thing that kept me from screaming at my father, begging him to explain to me why, why he couldn’t look at me like that? Why was it so hard for him to see past the girl who’d spent a summer in a fucking asylum? Why was it so hard for him to even look at me at all?
“Get out of my way, loser,” Paige grumbled, pushing her way past me to grab the milk from the fridge.
I felt the brush of her shoulder as if it was a match and I was made of pure gasoline. I jerked away from her, feeling her disdainful glare as I rushed around the island, reaching a hand out to collect my paper before booking it out of that damn kitchen.
For an open concept, there sure as shit wasn’t enough air in the space.
I was moving at a good clip, sucking in deep breaths of air when I took a corner too tightly and tripped over a table leg, losing my balance and slamming into the hardwood floor. The glass I’d still been holding shattered around me and I winced as I felt a shard slice the palm of my left hand.
My breath came in short wheezy pants as I knelt there, frozen, staring at the shards of glass scattered across the floor.
“Oh no,” I moaned, my panic skyrocketing as I reached out and began to sweep the glass towards me, trying to make a smaller pile and cutting myself more in the process.
“What the hell are you doing?” I heard my mother shriek from behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my lack of air keeping me from speaking at a higher volume.
I blinked when her hand wrapped around my left wrist, making me go completely still. “You’re just making it worse, Nell!” she said, her voice laced with fury as she glared at me. “Clean yourself up then take care of this mess. Use your head, for once,” she hissed, her hand releasing mine abruptly.
I nodded, swallowing repeatedly, trying to keep the panic at bay even as the edges of my vision began to go dark and my lungs strained for more oxygen. “I-I’m sorry,” I croaked as I stood, trying to keep my expression impassive as I faced her. “I’ll c-c-clean this up in a m-minute,” I said, cringing at the way I stuttered.
Keep it together, Nell. Just keep it together long enough to get out of here.
I straightened my spine, trying to seem normal as I turned away from my mother but her eyes were on me the whole time, burning holes in my skin wherever they rested. I could feel her inspecting me, searching for the flaws, cataloguing each piece of evidence that marked me as unconditionally crazy.
I wanted to laugh at the thought.
Of course she didn’t need more proof. Sylvia gave her notes to my parents at the end of every month and judging by the amount of pills she kept giving me, those notes didn’t mention anything about how much I was improving.
I hurried into my bathroom and slammed the door behind me, sinking onto the tile floor as soon as the lock clicked.
Breathe, Nell. Please, just breathe.
It wasn’t working. It was going to happen again. I could feel it in the way my chest kept tightening, in the way my lungs were burning, in the way my skin felt like it was on fire.
“No,” I moaned, clenching my hands into fists at my sides, making the blood pour more quickly from my wounds, spilling onto the floor.
Reaching up, I planted one hand on my chest, right above my heart, willing it to slow. “C’mon,” I croaked, slumping sideways until my cheek was resting against the cool floor. I took in a deep breath, closing my eyes so I could picture the constellations clearly. “B-big dipper,” I began, waiting until I had enough oxygen to say the next. “Cassiopeia.”
I ran through the list twice before I could breathe normally again.
Five minutes later, my hands were covered in bandages and my heart felt a little bruised but at least I could breathe well enough to clean up my mess.
I walked down the stairs and found a broom to sweep up the broken glass, realizing quickly that I was going to have to mop, too. There were smears of blood all over the hardwood, making it look a little like someone got murdered right there.
I looked fleetingly at the paper for Mr. Ford’s class, noting the blood covered front page. I’d have to reprint that before I left for school.
My head snapped up at the thought, my eyes latching onto the nearest clock.
I was going to be late.
My breath whooshed out of me at the thought, knowing that Mr. Ford didn’t accept late papers. Only a doctor’s note would excuse you and even then, you pretty much had to be dying to get an extension.
I didn’t think a few scrapes on the palms of my hands would qualify me.
“I have to go,” I whispered to the remnants of my mess on the floor, rushing through the rest of the clean-up, all the while begging the clock to stop ticking, feeling my panic begin to rise again. “I’ll make it,” I whispered, urging myself to move faster as I raced up the stairs and reprinted my paper, tapping my fingers as the pages crawled out of the printer.
Once the paper was securely in my bag, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and froze. My hair was a mess, the bun tilted to the side and strands of loose hair floating all over my head but what caught my attention most was the bloody handprint right in the middle of my chest.
“Oh my god,” I muttered, ripping my shirt off and placing it in the laundry basket, pulling the first shirt I saw hanging in my closet over my head.
I sprinted to my car after that, sending up a silent prayer the whole time that the stupid thing would just start on the first try, that it would just bring me to school without a hitch.
“If you work today,” I whispered, approaching the rusted vehicle, “I promise to never bitch about you again. I promise I will use the best oil on your hinges and the finest gasoline that money can buy,” I muttered, climbing into the car, wincing at the screech my door let out as I closed it. “Please, please, please...” I begged as I placed the key in the ignition and held my breath.
Miraculously, the engine turned over and I laughed as I pulled out of the driveway. I glanced at the clock on the dash and my grin widened when I realized I would be on time. So the day had gotten off to kind of a rocky start but this paper was perfect and as long as I got it to Mr. Ford at the start of class, he’d have no choice but to give me an A.
I pulled into the school parking lot five minutes before the bell would ring and after smoothing my hair back into its usual low bun, I hurried into the building, arriving at my locker with three minutes to spare.
I just needed to grab my―
Someone bumped into my side, cutting off my thought process and dumping a full cup of coffee onto my chest and the books I was holding in my hands.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t even loo...king,” her voice trailed off as her eyes came to rest on my face. I recognized her. She was friends with Paige. “Oh,” she said, a knowing smile lifting the corners of her mouth as any apology that had been in her eyes faded. “You’re not going to have a breakdown about this, are you?” she sneered before patting me on the arm and brushing past me. “Better get cleaned up, Nell. The bell’s about to ring.
I stood there, stunned, coffee dripping down my clothes and off my books onto the floor. “Oh my god,” I muttered when I realized that my paper, my paper that I’d worked so hard on, that I’d already had to reprint once today, was in that pile of books.
“Stay calm,” I whispered, kneeling on the ground and spreading out my books with shaking fingers. “It’s probably fine.”
My hand came to rest on the now unrecognizable cover page, the paper tearing as my fingers brushed over it. “No, no, no, no,” I whimpered, my throat closing as my heart began to hammer in my chest.
Oh god, I was screwed. Mr. Ford didn’t take late papers.
Mr. Ford didn’t take late papers.
I’d fail. Forget the A minus, I’d get a zero on this paper. If I got a zero...
I shook my head, trying not the think about it as I frantically collected my books and began walking towards class, telling myself that it would be fine, that he’d be able to see, clearly, that I had the paper ready but it had been destroyed. I’d just show him its remains and I’d bring him a good copy by the end of the day.
He’d understand.
He had to understand.
The bell rang just as I stepped into the classroom, my shoes squeaking on the tile floor. I could feel the class watching me as I walked towards Mr. Ford’s desk, but I didn’t pay them any attention. I was focused on him. I just needed to explain so that my heart would stop beating so hard, so that I could take a deep breath and my chest could stop aching.
“M-Mr. Ford,” I wheezed, stopping in front of his desk, drawing his gaze from the slip of paper he’d been reading. His eyes widened as they took me in.
“Nell? What happened?”
“S-someone spilled coffee on me. I-I have my p-paper,” I muttered, holding out the soggy mess that had once been my perfect essay.
“Nell,” Mr. Ford said, eyeing my work with disgust, not even bothering to take it from me. “That’s not a paper. It’s a napkin.”
I shook my head as my ears started to ring, gritting my teeth against a wave of nausea that swept through me. “I had it, though,” I croaked. “It’s done. I just need to reprint it.”
His brow cocked as he looked at me. “You want me to give you extra time, Nell?”
I shook my head, frowning as the ringing in my ears turned to a dull roar. “No. Yes. I just...need to go home and reprint it. I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.”
“You know my policy on late papers.”
My hand holding the paper started to shake. “It’s not late. It’s right here,” I hissed, putting my books down so I could flip the front page of the paper, trying to force him to look at it, to give it a chance.
His eyes narrowed and a hint of irritation entered his gaze. “I can’t accept that paper, Nell. If you don’t have a different one to give me, then I’m afraid you’ll have to take a zero for this one.”
My heart stopped and I felt the colour drain from my cheeks. “Zero?” I repeated faintly, vaguely hearing the class laughing at me.
“You know my policy. You should’ve been more careful.”
I blinked. “Careful?” I croaked.
He nodded, gesturing his head towards the desks. “Now take a seat, Miss Watson. Class has begun.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My feet were frozen in place, even when he stood and motioned for me to move, even when he walked around the desk and asked me in a stern voice if I’d like a detention to go with my failing grade, I stayed perfectly still until he reached out his hand and gripped my arm.
His touch felt like a brand and I jerked away from him, the buzzing in my ears suddenly gone, bringing the world around me into harsh, startling clarity. The lights were too bright, the sound of the student’s laughter too loud, the feel of the stale air on my skin was too fucking harsh. I needed out. If I stayed there for one more second, I’d lose it. I’d lose whatever tiny thread of control I may have once had.
I bolted.
My thought processes slowed and narrowed until the only thing I could think about was escape and the only thing I could feel was the slapping of my feet against the floor as they took me further from Mr. Ford, from my ruined paper, from a zero.
My chest seemed to tighten with every step I took until even the tiniest of breaths was painful and by the time I reached the front doors of the school, I felt like I might die if I didn’t get some fresh air.
Only, when I managed to push the door open and stumble down the front steps, my lungs were still burning, my heart still hammering and my head was starting to spin.
“No,” I moaned, clutching a hand to my chest, recognizing what was going on here. I felt like my heart was trying to claw its way out of my chest, like my lungs were working furiously but no oxygen was penetrating, like my brain was telling my body to function and my body was ignoring it.
I half ran, half stumbled towards my car, deliriously thinking that if I only made it there, if I could just get there, I’d be fine. The pain would disappear and I could breathe again.
I tripped when I was only a couple feet away and my shoulder slammed into the side of my vehicle, creating a new dent and landing my ass on the pavement. I barely felt it. I couldn’t focus on anything past the way my chest was burning, the way my lungs were starving, the way my throat was locked up tight.
It’s in your head, Nell, I tried to tell myself but it was no use. I was too far gone this time, this morning’s close call having paved the way for a full blown panic attack. My hand gripped my shirt over my heart in a vain attempt to force the abused organ to work right, to stop hurting, to just let me be normal for once. My other hand lay at my side, anchoring me to the ground, my palm digging into the stones until they broke the skin of my already scraped flesh. I blinked a few times, realizing the edges of my vision were going dark, the shadows crowding in towards the centre until the only thing I could see were pinpricks of light, small glimpses of the real world that I could never really belong to, a world full of people who didn’t have cabinets full of prescription drugs, who didn’t have trouble breathing if their erasers weren’t lined up properly.
Or got a zero on a paper.
A thought drifted through my mind briefly, one about stars and names but it was gone before it could fully form. Even the pinprick of light I could see was gone now, leaving me in darkness as I struggled for breath that wasn’t coming, my body still fighting for something that my mind had given up on a while ago.
I was past the point of fighting, anyway. This panic attack had been inevitable so why not just go with it? Besides, now that my vision had gone black, I was starting to feel a bit...warm. It was weird but even though I could still feel my heart racing and hear my breathing sawing in and out of my lungs in short, painful pants, a strange warmth had begun to seep into my skin starting at my face.
This had never happened before.
Maybe this is just a whole new level of crazy.
Maybe it was crazy but just now, I didn’t care. I felt the warmth in my cheeks and oddly, it had moved to my hands, too. It seeped into my skin, heating my blood and forcing the darkness to recede, loosening the muscles in my throat until I could almost take a full breath of air.
I didn’t fight it. I let it happen even though a part of my mind was whispering at me that this wasn’t entirely right, that it didn’t work like this, that panic attacks never came with a comforting wave of heat.
Still, I leaned into it, grabbing hold of the sensation and gripping hard, pulling it towards me, needing it closer.
Then my vision cleared.
I blinked three times before I realized Grayson West was sitting right in front of me, his dark eyes almost totally black, his brow furrowed as he stared at me.
And that heat? The one that started in my cheeks?
Yeah, that was his hands. His hands were on my cheeks, cupping my face as if his grip on me would somehow stop me from completely losing my mind.
I frowned at that thought, realizing belatedly that, well, it wasn’t far off the mark.
I’d felt it. I knew I was going over the edge, losing my hold on whatever reality I usually managed to maintain and then...
He brought me back.
This is ridiculous.
You couldn’t just touch someone and stop a panic attack...could you?
I mean, there had to be other factors, right? I’d been practicing deep breathing, maybe that had helped. Or maybe it was―
Oh god, were my hands pressed against his chest?
They were. They so were. I could feel it. Even though I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his, I could feel the warmth where my palms connected with his skin, feeling the heat through his t-shirt.
I needed to pull back, to move away, maybe move to another country but...
I was stuck. Totally caught in whatever spell he’d cast to bring me back from the edge, locked in his dark gaze.
His lips were moving. He was talking to me but the buzzing in my ears was blocking the sound of his voice so I just sat there, helpless and pathetic as he kept up a steady dialogue that might as well have been in another language.
Was he mocking me? Was he going to go back to his friends later and laugh about this, realizing once and for all that I really was the crazy girl everyone made me out to be?
I wouldn’t blame him if he did. I really wouldn’t except...
He didn’t look like he was mocking me.
In fact, he kind of looked...worried.
Was that even possible? Could Grayson West be...worried about me?
Me?
I felt the left corner of my mouth twitch at the ridiculous thought and I watched as Grayson’s eyes locked on my lips before shifting back to my eyes. “...better now? For a while there I thought you couldn’t even hear me. Can you hear me now?” he asked, his voice low and smooth and for some reason I had to resist the urge to close my eyes and just listen as he spoke for a while.
I nodded slightly and watched in silence as his lips tilted up in one corner. “Good,” he said, his voice just a bit gruffer now as his hands slid along my cheeks until his fingers were tangled in my hair, probably ruining my bun but I couldn’t find it within me to care. “You sure you’re with me, Cupcake?” he asked after a moment.
I swallowed hard, clearing my throat slightly before saying, “Don’t call me Cupcake.”
His crooked smile widened and some of the concern in his eyes was overshadowed by amusement. “Well, that answers that question.”
I blinked a few times, my breathing almost normal now as I stared at him, wondering what the hell was going on here. Slowly, I pulled my hands away from his chest, inwardly wincing at the way I’d clung to him, leaving a few spots of blood on his t-shirt.
If he didn’t think I was crazy before...
He leaned back slightly, his hands sliding off my face until he wasn’t touching me anymore. I looked down at my own hands, feeling like I should apologize for staining his shirt.
“What happened?” he asked, drawing my attention. He was looking at my hands, frowning but after a second, he looked up to meet my gaze and I could see that he wasn’t really asking about my cuts.
He was asking about the total meltdown he’d just witnessed in our school parking lot.
“I should get cleaned up,” I said hoarsely, feeling a bit like I’d just run a race, like my legs weren’t quite strong enough to hold me up anymore.
Good thing I was already leaning against my car.
I started to stand, my cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment because I couldn’t help but think of what that must’ve seemed like to him.
I must’ve been a hyperventilating, shaky mess when he found me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been frothing at the mouth.
“You can’t drive like this,” Grayson said, his tone hard as he watched me struggle to stand. After a couple of seconds, he made a sound low in his throat and his arm was around my waist, tugging me up until I was fully vertical.
“Thanks,” I muttered, not looking at him as I turned to open my car door.
I tugged but it was jammed. I pulled harder but there was no telltale screeching of poorly oiled hinges, no ominous creaking, no movement whatsoever.
I was about to pull again when I realized that there was a large hand pressed to the doorframe, halting any progress I may have made. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice quiet and scratchy, like I was recovering from a cold.
“I told you, Cupcake, you can’t drive like this.”
“I have to go,” I said through gritted teeth, the school feeling like a physical presence behind me, beckoning me to go back but at the same time, pushing me away.
“Okay, where are you going? I’ll give you a ride.”
“No,” I snapped, turning around to glare at him. “I don’t wa―”
“Five minutes ago, I was trying to figure out whether or not you were dying, Nell. If you think I’m going to let you get in that car and drive away, you’re seriously unhinged.”
That was what would convince him I was crazy?
I continued to glare at him, neither of us moving an inch.
Finally, he sighed, shifting back slightly to remove his leather jacket. “Here,” he said, wrapping the jacket around my shoulders, tugging the lapels close together over my chest. “With this and the helmet, no one will recognize you, Cupcake. You’ll just be some girl on the back of my bike.”
I rolled my eyes. “Every girl’s fantasy,” I muttered, pushing my arms into the sleeves of his jacket despite my intentions of shrugging it off.
He shot me a cocky smile. “Not everyone’s as lucky as you, Cupcake.”
I shook my head but didn’t bother replying. I’d only succeed in inflating his ego further.
When he held out his helmet to me, I took it without hesitation, a part of me screaming at myself to stop, to go back to school, to be the Nell everyone expected me to be.
But the other part of me just wanted to get on the back of his bike.
And because I’d recently suffered from a panic attack, my brain wasn’t working properly so I did the exact thing I shouldn’t have.
I got onto the back of Grayson’s bike.
The motorcycle started with a loud roar, the power of the engine making the whole thing thrum. “Where to?” he shouted over the sound.
“Anywhere,” I shouted back.
“Works for me,” he said and I could swear I heard a grin in his voice.
I didn’t have time to think about it because the second I had my arms wrapped around his waist, we were gone.
For a moment, terror engulfed me and I was pretty sure I’d be having another panic attack shortly but then, it was just...gone.
I wasn’t thinking about papers or grades or Mr. Ford. I wasn’t even thinking about my mother and what she’d say if she saw me right now.
No, the only thing I could think about was...this.
For once, I wasn’t overanalysing things. For once, I was just...right here.
And right here...it was pretty amazing.
I still felt a little beaten from the panic attack but the adrenaline coursing through my veins thanks to being on the back of Grayson’s bike was going a long way towards erasing my pain.
“This is probably a bad idea,” I said quietly, knowing he couldn’t hear me as I leaned my helmeted head against his broad back, a part of me thinking it odd that a somewhat terrifying motorcycle ride could actually calm my nerves while the other part of me was too relaxed to care.
I let my eyes drift closed, pushing the rest of the world away as we rode.
I hope he never stops.
“Cupcake.”
My forehead wrinkled and I tightened my arms around his waist, upset that he would interrupt this for me. Didn’t he know I needed this?
An image flashed in my mind of his face the moment the panic attack had receded enough to focus on him.
Oh god, he saw me. He looked right at me while I’d been―
“We’re getting off now, Cupcake.”
I blinked my eyes open, lifting my head from his back to look around, trying to ignore the embarrassment seeping into my consciousness.
He saw me.
“Where are we?” I asked, taking in the trees and the wide, paved path leading towards a swing set and some slides.
“It’s a park. We’re at a park.”
I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head, hearing the sarcastic tone in his voice. “Yeah, I got that. Why are we here?”
He sighed. “Listen,” he said, bringing his hands to my forearms and prying them away from his waist.
Which was the moment I realized I’d still been holding onto him as if my life depended on it.
Oh my god.
I pulled my hands back, fumbling my way off the motorcycle immediately, ripping the helmet from my head and plunking it onto the seat before taking a few steps away from him and his demon bike.
How long had we been sitting there?
How long had I been clinging to him like he was my only lifeline?
“Hey,” he said, dismounting from the bike before closing the distance between us. He reached his hand towards me and I frowned as it came closer, unable to comprehend what he was doing until his palm was touching my cheek. My eyes widened and I forgot how to breathe as my gaze met his, seeing some of that concern I thought I’d imagined earlier back in his expression. “You okay, Cupcake? You look kind of pale.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hissed, stepped back, letting his fingers slide along my skin until he was no longer touching me.
His eyes narrowed slightly and he pulled his arm down quickly, tucking his hand into the pocket of his jeans as he glared at me. “I would but I’m having too much fun pissing you off...Cupcake.”
He turned his back on me and began walking towards the park, obviously unconcerned whether I followed him or not.
I stared at his broad back, irritation making my hands clench into fists which made me wince from the scrapes on my palms.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, trailing behind him, taking long strides to catch up.
“Me? You’re the one who can’t handle a stupid nickname,” he grumbled, picking up his pace and increasing the distance between us.
I ground my teeth, letting out an odd sound in the back of my throat as my anger multiplied.
Did I just growl?
“Should I be jumping for joy then? How many times have I told you that I don’t like it?”
He shrugged. “Then I’ll stop.”
“You will?” I asked, stumbling over my own feet slightly, shocked that he’d caved so easily. Was that all it took? Had I just needed to explai―
“Probably not,” he said, shooting me a self satisfied smirk, toying with me.
I growled again.
“You’re such an asshole!” I half shouted, my anger making me forget that I didn’t shout, that I didn’t lose control and yell at people in public parks even if we were one town over.
He stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face me, the crooked, gloating grin on his face making a whisper of trepidation curl through my blood.
Unfortunately, I was too pissed off the pay attention to the warning signs and found myself taking a step closer to him and saying defensively, “What? You can call me whatever you want but as soon as I call you an asshole you take offense? God, for such a “tough guy” you sure are sensitive.”
His grin amped up a couple notches and suddenly, he was right in front of me, his breath fanning across my lips, his chest brushing against mine. He reached out a hand and curled his fingers around the nape of my neck, tilting my head slightly to the side so he could bring his lips close to my ear. I felt my eyes widen at the contact, my breath hitching once before disappearing entirely as his touch short circuited something vital in my brain.
Move! a small, remaining piece of my mind shouted at me, begging my feet to run far, far away from him.
Unfortunately, I’d lost all motor functions the second his calloused fingers had touched my sensitive skin and that shout of dissent had sounded more like a whisper to me. A very easily ignored whisper.
“You didn’t seem to think I was an asshole when you were wrapped around me on my bike a few minutes ago.” My eyes got impossibly wider as his words sank in, embarrassment and rage warring for purchase in my racing head. He shifted back slightly so he could see my face, his smile smug as he eyed me down. “Cupcake,” he finished succinctly, bringing his hand up to chuck me under the chin before turning his back on me and walking away, looking like he was about to whistle in contentment.
Had he just...did he seriously just...?
The rage that had previously been coursing through me multiplied and without any conscious thought, I found myself following him, my steps echoing off the pavement as the distance between us grew smaller and smaller.
I watched as my fist flung towards him, my knuckles connected with the back of one of his shoulders hard enough to make a weird thudding sound as my fist bounced off of with what felt like rock solid muscle.
I was watching myself pull my arm back to repeat the process when I realized I’d completely lost my mind.
“I am not just some girl who got on the back of your bike, Grayson. I did not wrap myself around you so don’t you dare make it seem like I was...like I was trying to...” I trailed off, my fist glancing off his shoulder as he turned to face me.
“C’mon Nell, if you beat me up, who’s going to drive you home?”
I pulled my hand back to punch him again. “I can’t believe that you’d suggest that I...” I hissed, letting my fist fly while simultaneously wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
Before I even connected, he had my wrist in his hand and he’d tugged me forward, slamming my chest against his, my feet tripping over each other as I stumbled into him and I would’ve fallen on my face if his other arm hadn’t wrapped around my waist, keeping me vertical.
I froze, suddenly very aware that I was plastered against Grayson West. Had he always been so tall? Had his shoulders always been that broad? And his chest―
“You can’t be seen with me in public.” I blinked, my brain moving a little sluggishly, trying to understand what he was talking about. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his eyes a little...flat as he stared down at me, his voice devoid of emotion even as his arm kind of tightened around me a second before letting me go. “You’re not just some girl. You’re Nell Watson.”
He stepped away from me and turned his back, heading further along the path. I frowned after him, my steps slow as I followed, wondering why I suddenly missed hearing him call me Cupcake.
We rounded a corner and I spotted a few chess tables set up, most of them occupied by seniors, each of them immersed in the game until we walked into view.
“Grayson!” one of the old men said, grinning over at Grayson. “What are you doing here on a weekday? Couldn’t wait until Saturday to get your ass kicked?”
“In your dreams, Earl. You and I both know you never beat me,” Grayson replied easily, shooting the man a quick smile.
“Only because I let you win,” Earl grumbled, his eyes shifting to me. “She with you?” he asked, his grin getting a little wider as he looked me up and down.
I shifted uncomfortably, my hand automatically reaching up to see if my bun was out of place, frowning slightly when I realized it was perfect. When had I fixed it? It had to have been messy when I took the helmet off...
“This is Nell,” Grayson replied, gesturing towards me before heading to a table and taking a seat.
“She’s pretty,” the man sitting across from Earl said, giving me a kind smile.
“She’s definitely pretty. Makes me wonder what she’s doing with Gray,” Earl said, smirking over at Grayson before sending a softer smile in my direction.
My lips twitched slightly as I moved closer to where Grayson was sitting.
“Ignore them,” he said, setting up the pieces. “Want to play?”
I shrugged, taking the seat across from him. “Sure.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, smirking at me. “I’ll go easy on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You do that.”
It took longer than I’d expected and there were times I’d wondered if I’d even pull it off, but eventually, I won.
“Checkmate,” I said, trying not to sound too smug.
“No way,” Grayson said, staring down at the board in bewilderment.
“Well done, girlie,” Earl said, slapping me on the back as he grinned widely. “Finally, someone who can beat him.”
Grayson’s eyes narrowed on Earl then swung to me. “Best two out of three.”
I shrugged and reached to replace the pieces to their starting position.
The second game took even longer and I wasn’t entirely surprised when Grayson moved his rook before crossing his arms over his chest and saying, “Checkmate.”
“Last game,” I muttered, shifting the pieces back to their original position, resolving to win this one. He was good, but I was just getting started. It had been a long time since I’d played and the first two games were just warm ups.
He was going down.
“You can’t let him win, Nellie. He gloats. He’ll never let it go,” Earl said close to my ear, wrinkling his nose in Grayson’s direction before going back to his own game.
I smothered a laugh, clearing my throat when Grayson quirked a brow in my direction. “Your move,” I said.
He shifted his pawn forward. “So, what happened today?”
My hand froze in midair, my fingers almost touching my knight. “What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb, hoping that he wasn’t talking about what he was probably talking about.
“In the parking lot, at school. Was that a panic attack?” he asked, moving his piece once I’d finally managed to place mine.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “Yeah.”
“What causes them?” he asked, lifting his gaze to meet mine, his expression unreadable.
I shrugged, trying to play it cool when really, my stomach was rolling uncomfortably, my mind was racing, trying to come up with excuses, anything but the truth, and my heart was beating a hole in my chest. “I...got a zero on a paper,” I said softly, my voice sounding weak to my own ears. Why couldn’t I just shrug and pretend like it was no big deal? So I had a panic attack. Big deal. People got them all the time.
Only...
He saw me.
I looked down at the board, inwardly wincing at the thought. “I know it sounds stupid.”
“Maybe there was more than one trigger,” he said, reaching out to gently lift one of my hands, turning it so that my palm was facing upwards, exposing the poorly bandaged skin there.
I pulled my hand away, putting it on my lap. “Maybe,” I replied.
Drop it, Grayson.
“I thought you were dying,” he said after a minute, his eyes getting a little darker as he looked at me.
“It feels like it,” I whispered, wondering why I was telling him any of this.
A muscle in his jaw ticked and he clenched and unclenched his hand before shifting his next piece. “How do you stop it?” His voice was a bit lower now, a bit gruffer as he eyed the game critically, looking completely engulfed.
Except, there was a tension in his shoulders that chess didn’t warrant and that muscle in his jaw hadn’t stopped ticking. It was almost like he was waiting for my answer. Like it was important.
“I don’t know. Time, I guess.” Or you, apparently, I added silently, watching him through my lashes, thinking about how it had felt this time and remembering that heat that had started in my cheeks, feeling it warm me from the inside out.
“What causes them?” he asked, still not meeting my eyes.
“Loose screws,” I mumbled, wishing he’d let this go.
“I’m serious,” he said, his intense gaze lifting to meet my eyes.
I blinked at his severe expression. “This isn’t your problem, Grayson.”
“What if it happens again?” he ground out, the fingers on his right hand curling into a fist as he narrowed his eyes at me. “I want to know what to do. I don’t want to just sit there like an idiot the way I did today.”
“It won’t happen again,” I hedged, my voice weak.
“You don’t know that,” he snapped.
I sighed, sitting back slightly, my feet itching to run away from this uncomfortable conversation. “You don’t have to worry about it, Grayson.”
“Just tell me what causes them.”
I sighed, shrugging my shoulders and giving in. “Stress, mostly. Sometimes if I’m really tired it takes less to...send me over the edge.” I shut my mouth to keep from elaborating. There was no way I’d be telling him just how little it took to ‘send me over the edge’. Failing a paper was one thing but I’d had a panic attack before because my hair elastic broke.
He already thinks you’re crazy. No need to give him more ammo.
“Weren’t you going to stop caring?” he said, his low tone making me blink before my eyes locked on his.
I frowned. “About school?”
He shook his head. “About what they think, Nell.”
I lost my breath at the way he was looking at me, like he wanted to reach out and grab my shoulders and shake me until I saw reason but also...
It also kind of seemed like he wanted to...protect me.
Ridiculous.
I shook my head, giving what I hoped was a casual shrug and a careless smile as I said, “Easier said than done.”
His forehead wrinkled and he clenched his jaw, but before he could say anything, a man walked up to our table and planted his hands on the edge. “Hey, West.” I glanced over at the newcomer who shot me a wide smile before focusing on Grayson. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
Grayson’s expression darkened and he was clenching his jaw so hard that I thought I heard his teeth grind together. “What the hell are you doing here, Dex?”
“Looking for you. Your brother said I might find you here. Guess he was right,” Dex said, picking up a pawn and tossing it into the air before catching it again, repeating the process as he focused on me. He was thin and not much older than us but there was something about the way he stood, the way he casually tossed the chess piece in the air that made me think that he was anything but weak. His eyes were a light hazel colour and his face was handsome enough or at least it would be if he wasn’t look at me like a wolf looks at its prey. “Who’s this?”
“Go away,” Grayson growled, his black eyes projecting a warning that the other boy was not paying attention to.
“Relax, man. I just came to invite you to a little get together,” Dex sighed, putting the pawn back on the table. “As you know, your brother got out a couple days ago. He wants to see you. We’re having a little celebration tomorrow night at my place. You should be there, Gray.” Dex’s eyes slid over to me and he gave me a once over, a hint of disdain entering his expression. “Bring your girl if you want but I think one of our parties might be a bit much for her.”
“Come on,” Grayson said suddenly standing. He was obviously talking to me but he never took his eyes off of Dex. “We’re leaving.”
I stood but I must not have moved fast enough for Grayson because suddenly he was gripping my wrist, propelling me along the path behind him.
“I’ll see you there, Gray!” Dex shouted after us just before we turned a corner, moving out of sight.
As soon as Dex could no longer see us, Grayson dropped my wrist and lengthened his stride. I frowned, practically having to jog to keep up.
He stopped next to his bike, his hands clenched into fists as he stared into the parking lot, fury radiating off of him in waves.
“Fuck,” he snarled, turning his back on his bike so he could pace a few feet away, his strides stiff as he turned and paced back, running a hand through his hair.
“Grayson,” I said, standing next to his motorcycle, watching him pace and feeling completely useless.
“I just need a minute,” he said through gritted teeth, continuing to pace.
I nodded, letting him go for awhile but the more he paced, the more pissed off he seemed to be getting and before I could really think about what I was doing, I was walking towards him. He didn’t seem to notice me and was turning his back when I suddenly reached out and gripped his hand in mine.
He stopped as if he’d hit a wall, his back going ramrod straight as soon as my fingers tightened around his palm.
What am I doing?
I blinked down at our hands before lifting my gaze to his stiff back, my eyes following the lines of his shoulder blades, seeing the tension in his neck and the way his dark hair stood on end from his hands running through it repeatedly.
“Grayson,” I said, my voice quiet but strong as I shifted slightly so that I could see his face. His eyes were turbulent, his expression dark and taut as he stared down at me like I was an alien being. I didn’t let go of his hand. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t blink. His expression didn’t change. He just kept staring down at me, not even moving as I stood there like a lunatic, holding his hand and asking Grayson West, local badass, if he was okay.
“Talk to me,” I said softly, my forehead wrinkling with worry when he still didn’t reply. Who the hell was that guy and why would he have the power to rattle Grayson this way?
I took a step closer to him, tilting my head back a little further so I could still meet his eyes. “Grayson?”
His brow furrowed but some of the tension eased from his shoulders as his gaze shifted to our hands. At some point, his hand had tightened around mine, his callused palm engulfing my scratched one. “I can’t figure you out, Nell Watson,” he said, his voice rumbling from his chest.
He couldn’t figure me out?
There were about a million questions swirling in my head after that little encounter, none of which I felt like I could ask.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood there, taking him in as he kept his gaze locked on our hands. My eyes drifted over his thick, dark hair, liking how it stood up at every possible angle, defying gravity without the help of any styling gel, liking that he didn’t feel the need to smooth it out.
“Let’s go,” he finally said, looking up to meet my eyes again, giving me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, like he was asking me a question but I didn’t know what it was.
I nodded and after a pause, he moved towards his bike, keeping his hold on my hand until he had to let it go to pick up the spare helmet and pass it to me.
Grayson’s POV
I’m in serious trouble here.
My heart was beating so hard it felt like it might rip a hole through my chest while we drove around, heading nowhere.
Part of why we had no destination was because I literally couldn’t think at the moment.
Every time I managed to focus on something, it had to do with the girl sitting behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist and her helmeted head resting on my back like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And thinking about Nell Watson right now was not an option.
Because the second I started thinking about her, I would remember the way she’d wrinkled her brow, thinking about her next move in chess, the way she’d tried to tuck away her smug smile when she won.
The way she’d taken my hand when I felt like I was about to explode.
Which was the most dangerous thought running through my head because as soon as I thought that, I’d remember exactly what it felt like when she’d touched me, her smaller hand gripping mine gently but somehow it had felt like I’d been hit by a freight train.
Didn’t she know? Hadn’t she heard? People didn’t just walk up to me and hold my hand. People didn’t look at me with concern in their eyes and ask me if I was okay.
Most people, as in everyone else who was not Nell Watson, would’ve given me a wide berth at that moment. Most people would’ve moved further away, possibly crossed a street to put some distance between us.
Then there was Nell.
She’s not afraid of me.
I don’t know why that surprised me. Of all the times I’d pissed her off and all the times she’d managed to do the same to me, I couldn’t think of a single instance when there had been fear in her pretty silver eyes.
Even when she’d been having her panic attack, which was not something I’d like to see again, she’d reached for me, like I was somehow holding her together.
It’s because she doesn’t talk to the people at school. She hasn’t heard the rumours. She doesn’t know.
I sighed, giving my head a mental shake as we turned into the school’s parking lot.
Hadn’t I planned on not thinking about her?
I pulled in a parking spot and cut the engine, oddly disappointed when she immediately dismounted, leaving my back feeling cold.
I got off the bike, not really sure where we stood anymore. She couldn’t be seen with me in public but she wasn’t afraid to grab my hand when I was about to lose my shit. She could piss me off with just one look but the past week of pretending that she didn’t exist had been almost impossible. My eyes were drawn to her. I’d see her walking down the hallway with her head down, her brow creased in thought and I’d want to go to her, to call her Cupcake, to see her silver eyes go molten the way they did when I pissed her off.
But she’d made it pretty clear that we weren’t friends and we never could be.
My left hand fisted at the thought, not liking the idea of going back to ignoring her after today.
“I should go get my stuff,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder towards the school. I stood from my bike and she placed the spare helmet on the seat I’d just vacated. She wasn’t meeting my eyes.
Her phone must’ve gone off in her pocket because she jumped slightly, frowning as she retrieved it and looked at the screen.
“Your boyfriend?” I asked, my voice coming out lower than I’d intended, less teasing and more...menacing thanks to the name I’d seen flash across the screen.
“Craig’s not my boyfriend,” she said, putting the phone back in her pocket without answering his text.
I snorted, remembering the way the guy had practically been glued to her at his stupid party. “Yeah, you might want to tell him that.”
“We’re friends,” she snapped, glaring at me.
I nodded, gritting my teeth at the implied part of what she was saying; that the two of us were not.
“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”
She sighed and brought a hand up to push any stray strands of hair back into her bun only when she touched her head, she realized that the whole thing was a mess, that the hair elastic was barely hanging on and there were loose strands of wispy locks all over the place, framing her face and brushing the skin on her neck.
I shoved my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her.
Then she went ahead and took the elastic out of her hair completely, letting the strands fall over her shoulders and down her back in loose waves. I swallowed hard, telling myself it would be a very bad idea to close the distance between us right now, that I was just confused because she didn’t run away from me earlier, that I just needed some time to remember that I was not attracted to Nell Watson and even if I was, I’d be the last person on earth she would want touching her.
“The bell’s going to ring any second now,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at me, like she was trying to figure me out. “Thank you for today,” she said after a long pause, her voice soft and sincere.
“Anytime,” I replied, meaning it. I seriously needed to get my head on straight when it came to this girl.
Not that it mattered anyway. The odds of her ever talking to me again after today were slim to none.
With that, she turned her back, walking towards the school.
I gritted my teeth, turning to face my bike so I wouldn’t have to watch her walk away from me. Something about seeing her retreating form really wasn’t sitting well with me.
Not good, West. This is not good.
I put the spare helmet back in its compartment and was about to climb onto the bike when I felt her hand wrap around my wrist.
My stomach dropped and my heart sped up as soon as I felt her skin on mine.
“Your jacket,” she said, holding it out to me as I turned to face her.
Something like disappointment curled in my gut as I took it from her, having forgotten she was even wearing it. “Thanks.”
She nodded and when I expected her to move away, to walk out of my life and never come back, she shot me a grin instead.
I felt an answering smile on my lips almost immediately but I squashed it before it could fully form. There was no reason for her to know that her smiles made something in my brain short circuit and if she caught me grinning like a moron just because she happened to smile in my near vicinity, it would kind of be a dead giveaway.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Grayson.” I frowned trying to focus past that grin of hers and the humour sparkling in her eyes. Had anyone else ever seen her like this? With her hair down and a smile on her face...she was beautiful.
“What?” I asked, feeling like my brain was working twice as hard just to form coherent thoughts.
“The game. You owe me a tiebreaker and I’m not going easy on you next time.”
The smile I’d been struggling against worked its way past my defenses and I found myself leaning a little closer to her as I said, “You’d better start practicing, Cupcake because there isn’t a chance in hell you’re going to win.”
She shrugged, looking unconcerned. “We’ll see.”