Ritual - Palm South University

“Do you have to make a name for yourself?” I ask, sitting up straighter when he looks at me confused. “I mean, what if it was always just like this. You and your guitar, small coffee shops, playing music and making people feel good.”

Grayson nods. “That’d be alright, I think.”

“Then maybe you can have both — the life they want for you, and the life you want, too.”

“I guess I never considered that the two could marry.”

I shrug. “Just a thought.”

“You always were smarter than me.”

I scoff at that, biting my tongue to resist the urge to point out that I wasn’t smart enough to know he was cheating on me all along.

My next sip of coffee is bitter. Why the hell do I still care? Why does that thought still bubble to the surface every time I’m with Grayson, making me feel prickly as a cactus?

I frown.

Will my new friendship with Grayson always be shadowed by that cloud of betrayal?

“What’s on your mind?”

I blink, clearing my throat when I realize Grayson has been watching me. “Nothing.”

“You’ve also always been a terrible liar.”

“I guess I was just thinking. This place brings back a lot of memories.”

Grayson’s face slacks. “Yeah. It does for me, too.”

The way he watches me now is with a longing so fierce, I feel it like a vibration in the air. I swallow, looking away from him and out at the quad where students are dressing the giant Christmas tree they put up there every year.

“I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas. This semester has flown by.”

“Cassie, don’t change the subject.”

I frown, looking back at him. “I didn’t realize we were on a subject.”

“The shop. The memories.” He pauses. “You and me.”

“Uh…”

Grayson scoots his chair closer to mine, his eyes earnest as they watch me intently, and warning bells ring loud and shrill in my ears.

Oh no…

“I invited you tonight because I wanted to see if you felt it, too — the rush of what we used to be. Because every time I walk through those doors, every time I play here… it takes me under like a tidal wave.”

“Grayson,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I just came here to support you. As a friend.”

“You and I have never been friends,” he says, covering my knee with his hand. “And you know it.”

I swat his hand away quickly, scooting back. “Grayson. Stop. Now. I mean it.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t miss me,” he hisses, frowning and shaking his head like I’m in denial. “I see it. I feel it. And whatever is going on between you and Adam, it’s not what we had.”

“You’re right,” I say. “It’s so much more than what you and I could ever have even hoped to have.” I scoff, my chest on fire. “God, I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t believe I thought you actually, genuinely wanted to be my friend.”

“I do want to be your friend,” he argues, scooting his chair closer again. Mine is pinned now, and I curse myself for picking that same back corner table I’d always sat at before. “But I want to be more, too. I want you back. I want to prove to you that I’m the one you should be with — not that asshat.”

“I love him,” I whisper-yell. “How dare you say these things to me. I stood up for you, you know that? When you didn’t deserve it. When Adam questioned me. When he told me I was an idiot for thinking you could ever be just my friend.” My mouth falls open, and I shake my head in disbelief at my own stupidity. “He was right. How did I not see it?”

“He sees what I see. What I know you see, too.” Grayson puts his hand on my knee again, and this time when I try to swat it away, it doesn’t budge. “We’re meant for each other, Cassie. And I’m not letting up until you realize you never stopped loving me, and I never stopped loving you, and this — you and me — we’re real. We’re inevitable.”

He takes his hand off my knee, but then it moves for my face, sliding back into my hair with his lips on track for mine.

I rip away, panic searing my chest. “Grayson, no!”

Crack.

I don’t register what’s happened, not until I blink several times, taking in the people gasping and screaming around us.

And then I see Grayson on the floor.

And Adam on top of him, fist in the air, ready to plow it back into Grayson’s already bleeding nose.

“Adam, don’t!” I scream, flying out of my chair and down to him. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull, knowing I wouldn’t be able to budge him unless he actually wanted to be budged.

Luckily, he lets me pull him up to stand, but his chest is heaving, glare murderous, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he stares down at Grayson. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER,” he screams, grabbing him by the shirt. “HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY GIRL.”