Grayson turns around and almost pulls my arm out of its socket. He opens the passenger side door to his truck and I get in, jumping when he slams it shut. I watch Haley disappear in my side mirror as we peel out of the parking lot. I’m so distracted by what just happened that I don’t even notice when Brody and Demi drive in the opposite direction, towards the house him and Grayson share.
The drive to my apartment building is short, but an awkward silence fills the cab of the truck. Grayson’s anger and irritation comes off of him in waves, giving rise to my scrupulous thoughts and insecurities. I’m unsure of what to do, what to say, so I keep quiet until we get to my apartment. Grayson shuts the door and walks into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He pops the cap and downs half the bottle in one swig. His actions have me feeling uneasy, feeding my unrelenting need to know what the hell just happened. Our entire night turned to shit in less than an hour, and whoever this Haley girl is, she obviously has some effect on Grayson. His reaction to her presence alone was distressing to me.
“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” I ask quietly. I fiddle with the hem of my dress, my nerves getting the better of me. I’m worried about how he’s going to react. I’ve never seen him so angry and I never expected to see such an aggressive side to him. I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling on edge. It reminds me too much of my relationship with Jake.
Grayson’s jaw ticks and he brushes past me, moving to the living room. I follow him.
“Who was that girl Grayson?”
My irritation flares when he doesn’t answer me. “Are you going to talk to me?”
“Goddammit Huntley, will you stop with the fucking questions!” he yells.
I flinch and resist the urge to run away and hide.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
“Maybe I don’t want to fucking talk! Did you think of that?”
I’m at a loss for words. The man standing in front of me is a stranger. The Grayson I know would never speak to me this way. My need for self-preservation wins and before he can see me break, I turn and walk to my room. I close the door and strip out of my clothes. After a few minutes, I hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hall way but I don’t look up when the door opens.
I’m standing in my underwear when I feel him standing next to me.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my tears from trickling over. Why am I so emotional? Almost everything makes me want to cry lately and it’s frustrating. I feel like I have no control over my own emotions.
“I get that you’re angry, but you have to tell my why.”
He scoffs. “Like you told my why you freaked out in the parking this afternoon? You haven’t exactly been open with me either.”
My head shoots up and I frown at him. It’s my turn to get angry. “Are you kidding me? You know everything about me Grayson, about my past! Forgive me for wanting to enjoy a night out before telling you my ex-boyfriend is in town!”
“That’s why you freaked out when you saw that red Mustang? Because it belongs to your ex?”
I look away and nod.
“Why’s he here Huntley?”
Keeping my stare fixed on my bed, I shake my head.
“Tell me why,” he presses.
“I don’t know!” I yell back in frustration. I can’t keep my tears in anymore and I feel them slip down my flushed cheeks.
“You’re lying,” he accuses. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“Because you’re hurting me!” I grab my gown and push past Grayson, rushing into the bathroom. I slam the door in his face and slide down the door. I cover my mouth to stifle the sob I feel clawing its way up my throat.
His accusation not only rips at my old wounds but also leaves new ones in its wake.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but when I stand up, my legs are stiff and my face is still wet. I clean my smudged make-up and wipe away my streaked mascara.
Deep breath I tell myself.
When I open the bathroom door, my bedroom is dark and empty. I contemplate changing into my pajamas and getting into bed but a muffled sound coming from the living room captures my attention. Pulling my robe tighter, I wonder down the hallway and find Grayson’s silhouette slouched over on the couch. Walking closer, I see his head hanging, resting between his palms.
He sniffs and I realize the muffled sound came from him. He’s crying.
There’s an inner war going on in my head and I consider leaving him alone. But seeing him this way pulls at my insides. My love for him trumps the anger I feel towards him at the moment and my body intuitively moves towards him. I sit down next to him and tuck my feet under my butt.
And I wait…