Page 143 of Wicked Minds
Royce mulls it over, eyes scouring my face. He must see that I’m not going to back down. No matter what happens, I can’t keep burying my head in the sand and pretending none of this is an issue directly affecting me.
“Alright,” he eventually agrees. “We’ll go meet Lydia, and Logan will keep our girl company.”
His eyes are on Logan and I know he meanstheirgirl, but fuck if I don’t include myself in the sentiment too, and in the sea of chaos, that notion brings a little bit of calm.
42
RILEY
Pulling my slouchy sweater over my shoulder, even though it falls off not a moment later, I adjust the bag on my back as I stride down the street toward my apartment. Despite the bitter wind, sweat clings to my scalp as I pull my hair from the elastic band and shake it out.
After Logan left for an early morning practice, I changed and headed to the dance studio, where I barely stopped to gulp down a few sips of water for the last several hours. The burning need to push all the uncontrollable emotions out from under my skin had me spinning, dipping, and weaving across the room, even after my legs started to shake and my breathing grew heavy.
I’d like to say it had nothing to do with the fact there are now eighty-four days until Bertram’s release, but it does.
That and my confrontation with Grayson.
And the fact I had sex with himagain.
Seriously, when am I going to learn? That man might be fantastic for my pussy, but he isbadfor my brain. I can’t keep allowing him to press me up against the nearest hard surface whenever he has issues expressing his emotions.
I don’t even know what comes over me whenever he’s around. My brain completely turns off when he pins me in place with that molten gaze. It’s ridiculous.
Lost in my thoughts, I fail to notice the fancy-as-hell car parked along the curb just down from my apartment, and I’m already fishing out my keys by the time I hear my name being called.
Turning around, a casually dressed Grayson rounds the front of an ostentatious black car and steps onto the sidewalk.
“Grayson?” My eyes dart around him, expecting to see Royce or Logan with him, but it appears as though he’s alone, which instantly has me on alert. “What are you doing here?” I ask as he steadily approaches.
I haven’t seen him since yesterday when I blurted out every traumatic drop of my past. He looks like he hasn’t slept, with dark rings under his eyes, but he’s freshly showered and appears more pieced together than in recent weeks. Less… tortured somehow?
He stops a couple of feet in front of me, eyes dropping down my body before flicking to the door of my apartment building. “I, uh, was hoping we could talk?”
“Talk?” I parrot.
He nods, appearing uneasy as he shifts on his feet. “About…things.Maybe, inside?” When I simply blink at him, he points at my building.
Inside. He wants to go inside… my apartment? “Oh. Erm… Yeah, okay, I guess.”
I stare at him for a moment longer before forcing my legs into action and turning to walk toward the building. I hear him behind me, his proximity causing the keys in my hand to jangle as I go to insert the key into the lock.
It’s not fear that has me so shaken. Honestly, I’m not sure what it is. Anxiety? Apprehension? The not knowing—notknowing where we go from here or if this changes anything for him.
My hand jolts as the key hits the lock and drops to the ground. Grayson swoops in before I can, picking them up. “I’ve got it,” he murmurs, successfully unlocking the door and pushing it open for me to enter.
He trails behind, still holding my keys as he follows me up the three flights of stairs to my apartment, and I step aside when we reach my door so he can unlock it.
At thesnickof the lock, he looks my way before pressing down on the handle and pushing open the door, gesturing with his arm for me to go ahead.
Sucking on my bottom lip, I nervously step into my apartment, sensing him at my back. Standing awkwardly in the middle of my small space, I watch as his eyes roam the open-plan kitchen-living area, taking in the shabby furniture and outdated walls. He takes note of the tiny home comforts I’ve added, like the blanket Logan bought me and cushions I found in a charity shop, the pile of books on the coffee table, and the scented candle on the windowsill, as though he didn’t crash on my sofa only a week ago.
God, how was that only last week? So much has happened since then. Every bit of stable ground I’d worked so hard to achieve feels like it’s come apart beneath my feet.
“Do you mind if I, uh, shower first?” I ask, plucking at my sweater, the strap of my leotard visible through the oversized neck hole. Sure, I want to wash the sweat off my body, but mostly, I need a minute to prepare myself. Interacting with Grayson is always a violent battle and I need a moment alone to gather my armor.
The sound of my voice draws his attention and he slowly turns to face me, gaze cascading down my body like rainwater.“No,” he answers, voice lower than it was before. “That’s fine. I’ll… be here.”
I stand there a moment longer as he turns away, grabbing one of my books off the pile and sinking onto my old, worn sofa as he flicks through the pages. The way he’s lounging, he looks so at home. It’s a weird juxtaposition, and unable to wrap my head around it, I turn and head for the shower.
