Demi looks at me surprised. “Are you serious?”
I nod and the grin that spreads across her face confirms that I’ve made the right decision. I’ve been thinking about it for a week, bouncing the idea back and forth in my head, weighing the pros and cons like it’s a life changing decision. In many ways it is, but it also feels like a necessary step, almost like I’m following one of those ‘twelve step’ programs and this is essential to my recovery. I don’t want to live in a box for the rest of my life. I want to take chances. Trust people.
Demi squeals and jumps to hug me, knocking us over. We both laugh hysterically, resulting in tears and aching bellies. It’s refreshing.
The rest of the evening continues this way. We talk about when Demi will move in and go back to talking about Grayson and Brody.
It’s normal and I start looking forward to what will be my new normal, even if my situation with Grayson is nothing more than a grey area.
Chapter 8
Huntley
My feet hit the sidewalk and start running to the steady beat of the music pulsating through my iPods’ earphones. My heartbeat joins in and thumps along, my whole body moving in perfect concord. My mind switches off, only focusing on keeping my body moving, my lungs breathing and my heart beating smoothly.
Classes are over for the day but a few students make their way in and out of the library, coffee and energy drinks in hand. For six pm there is quite a bit of activity. I run past the coffee shop, inhaling the rich aroma’s, and head past the lecture halls towards the sports fields. As I increase my steady pace, the warm, damp air hits my face and I pull my jacket a little tighter. I try to think only about the feel of it on my skin and the feel of the ground beneath my feet but some thoughts still creep in.
Reaching the athletics track, I notice a few of the football players are on the field but I force myself to look away. I don’t want to know if Grayson is there, even though he probably is. He’s been acting weird lately and it shouldn’t bother me but it does. He’s avoiding me and I can’t figure out why. I should be avoiding him after what happened in the cafeteria the other day. Maybe I’m overthinking it? Or maybe he just doesn’t care.
Well that’s fine by me. Staying away from Grayson Carter seems like a pretty smart thing to do anyway. He’s making that part easier for me.
Turning up the volume on my iPod, I hit the track, picking up a new rhythm. Titanium by David Guetta blasts through my earphones and I find myself being encouraged by the thrum of the beat and the meaningful lyrics. I push harder and harder until my arms and legs are warm, a light sheen of sweat trickling down my back. I feel good. Strong.
After running a few laps I slow my pace and allow the burn in my limbs and my lungs to ease. I’m alone, the guys no longer practicing their plays on the field. My uncle doesn’t usually stay this late but since the guys were out here practicing it wouldn’t hurt to stop by and see if he’s still in his office. A few of the guys leave the locker room and once I know it’s empty I let myself in.
“Huntley?” I look up and almost trip. Grayson is standing in front of me. In nothing but a towel. Oh God. His chest is wet, the water droplets sliding down between his abdominal muscles. He has that v muscle that girls go crazy for and I can see why. It leads straight to his… I shake my head. No need to be thinking about that.
“I …um…I….shit…sorry.” I slap my hand over my eyes. My brain has stopped functioning. I can’t even string a coherent sentence together.
“If you’re looking for Coach you’re a little late.”
“Yeah, I’ll..uh..just come back to see him tomorrow.” I keep my eyes closed and take a step back only to hit the wall. I need to leave but that means opening my eyes. I would rather fumble my way out of here than open my eyes and look at Grayson’s wet, naked chest. As long as he stays where he is, this won’t be a problem. I can leave and he can carry on doing whatever he was doing. Good plan.
I move to the left along the wall, stopping abruptly when I feel an arm next to my face. I can smell him, feel him, standing in front of me. He smells like mint and soap and fresh apple pie.
Breathe I tell myself. Just breathe.
“Open your eyes Huntley,” Grayson whispers. His warm breath caresses my throat.
“No.” My voice comes out all breathy and I curse myself for not sounding more confident. C’mon, pull it together girl…
“Please,” he pleads softly. “I want you to look at me.”