At the sound of that voice my heart thuds loudly in my chest. Relief floods me when I look up. Grayson towers over me, a frown marring the features of his face. He helps up to my feet in time to catch Luke storming towards me.
"You bit me you bitch!" Luke yells again, not caring who hears. "You ruined my fucking life!"
I cower behind Grayson, shielding half my body from Luke’s sight. I doubt he would be brave enough to try and get to me with Grayson so close. Then again, he does have that mentally unstable look about him.
"I'd be very careful if I were you Bailey," Grayson growls in front of me. I can feel the vibrations from his voice move through his body. He is a solid wall of steal and good three inches taller than Luke. He's also a size bigger, since Luke has the physique of a swimmer.
"Fuck you Carter! What's it to you anyway? She's just another one of the many tramps you've bagged!"
Everything happens so quickly but I feel like I'm trapped watching a movie in slow motion. Grayson pushes me back slightly before cocking his fist. I hear the crack as Grayson's fist makes contact with Luke’s face, blood spraying onto Grayson's shirt. This is not good.
Luke tumbles to the floor before Grayson lands another punch, and another.
"Grayson!" I scream, "STOP!"
He gets in Luke’s face and grips his shirt by the collar, never breaking eye contact. "Listen here you little prick," he growls. He looks dangerous and terrifying like this. I've never seen him so angry. "Don't ever touch Huntley again. And if I hear that you've drugged any more girls on this campus, I will make sure the only view of a swimming pool you ever see again is from a wheelchair. Do we understand each other?"
Luke pales but nods in understanding. Grayson drops him to the floor again and he turns to me. He looks me over then, from head to toe, and I know it's ridiculous but the way his eyes roam my body makes me shiver. In a good way. When images of our morning tumble in the sheets start flashing in the front of my mind, I look down hoping he won’t see the redness creep into my cheeks.
"You ok?" he asks softly. He touches my injured forearm gently but I still wince. That's going to bruise.
"I'm fine. My arm just hurts like hell."
He chuckles, "I can never seem to keep you out of trouble."
“Yeah well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to get jumped walking out of my class.”
Scratching in my bag, I find a wet wipe and use it to wipe the now dry blood droplets from my arm. I hiss through my teeth when it burns.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you,” Grayson sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to see one of my professors after class.”
I toss the wet wipe into the bin and grasp Graysons hand in mine. Our fingers twine together in a perfect fit.
“You don’t have to apologize. I don’t need you to babysit me.” He feels guilty for no reason whatsoever and I wish he wouldn’t.
“Besides,” I add, stepping into the crammed cafeteria. “You can make it up me to me later.” I wink and he grins wickedly.
“Baby, I’ll rock you world if that’s what it takes.”
Little does he know, he already has.
As the weeks pass by, the four of us settle into a good routine. Brody and Grayson spend a great deal of time at our apartment and on the weekends they’re away for football games, Demi and I have girls nights filled with junk food and chick flicks. Everything in my life feels normal.
It’s Friday morning and Demi and I are alone in the apartment. Brody and Grayson are away until tomorrow for a football game. Waking up without Grayson next to me feels strange since we’re practically attached at the hip but today I’m a little grateful he’s not here. My stomach churns and I bolt from the comfort of my bed, making it to the bathroom just in time to see the remnants of last nights’ dinner spill into the toilet bowl. My body heaves until there’s nothing left and then heaves again for good measure. I hear a soft knock on the door and turn to see Demi walk in. Concern is written all over her face. She wets a washcloth and kneels next to me on the tile floor.
“Are you ok?” She places the wet cloth on my neck and I’m grateful for the immediate relief it brings.
“I think I might’ve eaten something funny last night,” I whisper. My throat feels raw, like it’s been rubbed every which way with sand paper. I stand up on shaky legs and rinse my mouth out with mouthwash to get rid of the vile taste swarming my taste buds. Yuck. The aftertaste of my vomit is almost enough to make me sick again.
“Um, Huntley,” Demi stands and shifts uncomfortably.
“Hmmm?”
“This is going to sound weird but, um, when was the last time you had your period?”
I’m not sure if I’m frowning because of her question or because I actually don’t know when my last period was.
Oh no.
She must see the shock registered on my face because she grips my elbow and helps me walk back to my bed and sit down.
“You think I’m…” my words trail off as I mentally try to calculate the dates. It can’t be possible. It just can’t be.