Ritual - Palm South University

I remember the first time I met him, when he bought my coffee and asked for my number and made me blush with his unapologetic gaze.

I remember watching him play a set, looking around the room at the way the girls visibly swooned with every note he played and every word he sang.

I remember sitting in this very seat, at this very table in the back corner of the room, so I could watch but not be watched.

Of course, Grayson never let me slide under the radar for long. He loved to call attention to me when he was on stage, or as soon as he got off stage, striding back to me and wrapping me in a hug or planting a big kiss on my lips to let everyone in that room know he was taken.

At least, that’s what I’d thought.

My stomach sours when I remember something else — that the entire time I’d trusted him, he’d been lying to me.

Shaking that thought off, I take a sip of my coffee, reveling in the sweet taste of their famous caramel mocha that I haven’t had since Grayson and I broke up. I’ve missed it, and the atmosphere of the shop, with students studying and chatting and listening to Grayson play.

He’s on stage, crooning out a Maroon 5 song and winking at every girl who casts her wide-eyed gaze up at him. I can’t help but chuckle, noting that while he’s changed, some things never will.

It’s Monday evening, the first day back on campus for most students who went away for the Thanksgiving holiday. With the sun setting earlier now, it’s completely dark in the shop, save for the dim industrial lighting and the candles at each table. With Grayson singing and strumming his guitar and the Christmas lights already being hung across campus, there’s a feel of the holiday season in the air, and I breathe into it with a smile.

Grayson asked me to come watch him play while we were walking out of lab earlier. He wanted me to be there when he played his newest song, the one he’d been writing and giving me previews of for the past few weeks. I agreed, of course, and invited Adam to join me — which I knew he appreciated as much as he hated.

He doesn’t love Grayson and me being friends, but he understands it. He respects it. And that means more to me than he could ever know.

I’m excited for him to see that Grayson and I really are just friends, that anything there was between us is firmly in the past. I hope it will set his mind at ease.

And hey, he can kiss me right here in front of Grayson and everyone else.

I don’t mind him claiming his territory.

Heat flushes my cheeks at the thought of his kiss, the kind that always burns me and leaves a mark, and I check my watch anxiously. He should have been here by now.

Grayson announces he’s going to take a little break, and when he comes back, he’ll play a brand-new song. That earns applause and hoots and hollers from just about every girl in the place, and when I look around, I wonder how many of them are here for Grayson, alone.

His hair is tied at the back of his neck, and he’s dressed in a leather jacket, forest green relaxed-fit t-shirt and dark jeans. His combat boots set off the rock-star look, and he strides toward me with an easy smile, like he doesn’t realize every girl’s neck is breaking to watch him as he passes.

“Great set,” I say when he sits at the table. “Want me to get you a coffee?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, the barista drops off a hot Earl Grey tea and a tall glass of ice water. “The usual, Grayson,” she says, casting me a cautious glance before she smiles at him again. “You were great up there. Can’t wait to hear the new song.”

“I’ll play it just for you, Wendy.”

She bites her lip on a flush, excusing herself without another word.

When Grayson looks at me, he shrugs. “What?”

“Just watching Casanova in action,” I say, chuckling.

“Hey, I’m just being nice.”

“Mm-hmm.” I sip my coffee. “So, your parents know you still play here?”

His eyes darken with the question, and he dunks the bag of tea a few times, watching it steep. “Yeah. Dad says he doesn’t care, as long as I’ve let go of my fantasy and am getting good grades.”

“I’m sorry, Grayson.”

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. As long as I keep working on the plan they think is best for me, I can play my music. And that’s all that matters to me.”

“Do you think you’ll go back to music once you graduate?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I want to, of course, but… I mean, maybe it really is a fantasy. Look how many musicians never make a name for themself.”