I’m glad. I don’t know what I would do if Max hated Declan and Elias and there was another division between friends. I’m sick and tired of having to choose.
Declan was right. I’ve been caught up in my thoughts a lot lately, and they continue to swirl as I head into Wyman Hall for my next class.
I’ve done my best not to think about Gray at all, but it’s hard as hell. Even without managing to chase me off campus, he’s still haunting my thoughts.
I haven’t seen him since the fight between him and Declan. He hasn’t even shown up to the one class we share for the past few days, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s avoiding me or he just hates me so much that he doesn’t want to look at me.
“Fuck.” I stop in my tracks as I reach the usual door to my fourth-floor classroom.
I was so distracted, I totally forgot that the professor said we’re meeting in a different room today. Dammit.
Spinning around, I stride back down the empty corridor, retracing my steps. I’ll be late, but hopefully I won’t be the only one who forgot.
I took the elevator up to this floor, but I figure the stairs will be faster, so I push into the stairwell at the end of the hall. The small space is quiet as I head downward, and as I turn onto the second floor landing, voices carry and echo up from below, making me stop in my tracks so fast I clutch onto the handrail to keep from tumbling forward.
A jolt of shock makes my heart beat harder. It’s not the voices themselves that made me stop so suddenly, but the fact that I recognize them. I know exactly who’s below me.
My jaw clenches, anger twisting in my chest like a brutally sharp knife.
“Look, I’m doing what I can,” Gray says. He’s speaking in a hushed voice, but I can still fucking hear him, and it hurts more than I want to admit. “I’ve been trying my best, but I—”
“You’re fucking useless, Eastwood. You’re not holding up your end of the bargain like you fucking promised,” the second voice says, and if I thought hearing Gray speak made anger burn through me like a wildfire, this one is hell compared to that.
Cliff.
Fucking Cliff. Of course Gray is talking to Cliff, which means—
“Just give me a little more time,” Gray continues before I can finish my thought. “I promise I’ll get Sophie to leave.”
Cliff was the one Gray was talking to at the party.
My heart sinks. I don’t know whether to be pissed or feel absolutely fucking betrayed—even though I should feel neither, because I thought I’d finally convinced myself that Gray isn’t worth feeling anything about.
But this is like a silver bullet, like a torch being lit inside my body, burning like an inferno that I can’t just fucking put out with a little numbness. My hands ball into fists at my side, wanting to punch the wall, or better yet, Gray’s goddamn face.
But then Cliff mutters something under his breath about not wanting to fucking give him more time, and heavy footsteps start making their way up the stairs toward where I’m standing, eavesdropping on a conversation I shouldn’t be listening to.
Shit!
I pivot, doing my best to stay silent as I hurry toward the door to the second floor.
I push the door open and run out into the deserted hall, suddenly not caring that I’m already late for my class. I dive into a little corner and wait a few seconds, bracing for Cliff to come out of that doorway any moment. But he must have gone a flight higher, because he doesn’t show.
Good. I don’t want to see his fucking face right now.
/> But Gray? That’s another matter entirely.
Before I can think through whether it’s a bad idea or not, I’m shoving my way back into the stairwell and hurrying down the steps so fast it’s a miracle I don’t fall down another set of stairs. All I can think about is reaching the first floor, where Gray might still be lingering.
Just my fucking luck he is, and he’s not prepared for the shit storm he’s about to face.
I take him completely off guard where he stands, one arm braced against the wall and his head bowed.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I shout, the anger and frustration from weeks of his bullshit finally bubbling over.
Gray starts, so taken off guard for a moment that he doesn’t have time to hide the raw emotions written all over his face. Guilt, shame, pain, and… something else. Something that makes my stomach drop like I’m on a rollercoaster.
But then, just like every other time I’ve seen him since Christmas, his face goes hard. Blank. The poetry of emotions that was on his face seconds ago vanishes like it was never there, never real.