Page 8 of Fury
"Not your scene?"
"Not really." I pause, studying his face. "What about you? Is running the club everything you thought it would be?"
Something shifts in his expression, a weight settling over his features that makes him look older than his years. "It's what I was born to do."
That's not really an answer, but before I can push further, Trenton appears beside us, his presence breaking the intimate atmosphere that had been building.
"Prez." He nods to Greyson before turning to me with a wide grin. "Livie. Look at you, all grown up and fancy."
"Hey, Trent," I say, accepting his hug. He's always been like another brother to me, though I notice the way Greyson's jaw tightens slightly at the casual contact.
"How long before you get bored with small-town life again?" Trent asks, echoing Mason's question from dinner.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I laugh, though there's an edge to it. "Maybe I learned something while I was gone."
"Yeah? What's that?"
I look around the room, at the familiar faces, the easy laughter, the sense of belonging I'd been searching for in LA and never found. My eyes drift back to Greyson, who's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"That some things are worth coming back for."
The words hang between us, charged with meaning. Greyson's eyes darken, and for a moment, I see something raw and unguarded in his expression.
Trent glances between us, a knowing smirk forming. "I'll just… go find the beer. You two catch up." He backs away with an exaggerated casualness that would be comical if my heart wasn't hammering so hard.
"Dance with me," Greyson says suddenly, the words more of a command than a question.
My eyebrows lift in surprise. "I didn't know you danced."
"There's a lot you don't know about me." He extends his hand, those blue eyes never leaving mine. "Yet."
That single word 'yet' sends electricity racing down my spine. I place my hand in his, trying to ignore how perfectly it fits there, how the calluses on his palm feel against my skin.
The music has shifted to something slower, and couples have started swaying together in the cleared area near the pool tables. Greyson leads me there, his hand warm at the small of my back. When he turns to face me, there's a moment of hesitation before he pulls me closer, one hand settling on my waist while the other keeps hold of mine.
"Everyone's watching," I murmur, acutely aware of the eyes following our movements.
"Let them." His thumb makes small circles against my dress. "I've waited two years for this dance."
The admission steals my breath. "Greyson…"
"Don't," he interrupts. "Not yet. Just… dance with me first."
So, I do. We move together as if we've done this a hundred times before, my body somehow knowing exactly how to follow his lead. His scent surrounds me, leather and cedar and something uniquely him that makes my head spin more than any alcohol could.
"You were right to leave," he says after a while, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "I want you to know that."
I look up at him, surprised. "What?"
"You needed to go. Experience something beyond this town, beyond the MC." His eyes hold mine, serious and sincere. "I respected that. Even when it killed me to watch you drive away."
My heart stutters. "Is that why you never…" I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
"Never what? Called? Texted? Showed up at your door in LA?" His mouth quirks into a half smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. That's why."
"I thought you weren't interested," I admit, the words escaping before I can stop them. "That I was just some kid with a crush."
Greyson's hand tightens on my waist, drawing me impossibly closer. "Olivia," my full name rolls off his tongue like a caress, "I've been interested since before it was appropriate to be interested."
