CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grayson — 17 years old
I can’t say no to my aunt.
That’s the problem.
When Oaklynn came over this afternoon and told Aunt Naveah how she wanted to go to the haunted house, but only if I came along — my aunt gave me a probing look, and then said, “Be a gentleman and take the girl, Grayson. She’s asking so nicely.”
Which is why I’m here now, bored and annoyed.
Aunt Naveah is worried that I’m having trouble making friends. She doesn’t know that I don’t want to make friends. I don’t trust the people at Berkshire Academy. Their vain arrogance, bullying tactics and childish vanity are the biggest turn off.
Oaklynn is the only one I tolerate. Only because her family has a close relationship with the Hales. I have no choice but to tolerate her presence. So, I guess we’re ‘friends.’
I think Aunt Naveah wishes Oaklynn was more than a friend.
“Oaklynn is a nice girl,” she’d say to me, trying to sound convincing.
She is, but she’s not Riley.
She’s not my Goldilocks.
The lonely girl on the bench, with yearning in her eyes.
Oaklynn doesn’t make me want to draw her out, but Goldilocks? Yeah, she was practically calling to me. To sketch the curve of her face and the fullness of her lips.
“Why won’t you come in with us?” Oaklynn whines, bringing my attention back to her.
She places her hands on her hips, tapping her left foot haughtily. She’s a stage-five clinger, this one. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
Irritated, I sit on the curb of the parking lot and cross my arms over my chest. “You wanted me to come, so I’m here. But only because my aunt asked me to not because I wanted to. I’m not joining you for anything else.” I nod toward her little group of friends, who are eyeing me up and down suggestively and then giggling among themselves. “You have your friends. Go have your fun.”
She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and then stomps away. I watch as they enter the haunted house and then let out a relieved sigh. Finally , some silence from her constant squawking.
I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my apps, selecting the puzzle game I’ve been playing for a few days now. I’ve been stuck on level 98 since yesterday.
Just when I’m about to unlock the next level, my gaze catches a flash of blonde hair and my attention is quickly diverted to her.
The world stills, and my chest warms at the sight of Riley.
Only for it to fill with ice when I see her rushing across the field in panic, her face flushed and tears running down her cheeks.
I’m instantly on my feet and marching toward her with purpose. Is she hurt? Did someone say something to her again? I’ve seen the sneers they give her, heard the things they say behind her back or to her face, if they’re bold enough.
I watch as Riley crumples in the middle of the field, her knees hitting the grass as she lets out a choked sob. She’s crying… why ? Who fucking hurt her?
Once I’m closer, I’m careful not to spook her. My chest tightens at the sound of her broken cries and I have the strong urge to pull her into my arms — to keep her safe from anyone who dares to hurt her.
I’ve never felt this way for a girl before. It’s a foreign feeling, the way my heart hurts at the sight of her hurting. The way I’m enraged on her behalf.
Riley brings out a side of me that I didn’t know I was capable of, didn’t know I had.
Her arms are wrapped around her waist as she hugs herself tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. “Riley,” I say her name cautiously, squatting down beside her.
She lets out a tiny squeak, her head snapping up in response. Her brown eyes are big and glassy with tears. Her hand flutters to her chest in panic, but then I see the moment she recognizes me. Her eyes soften. “It’s you,” she whispers shakily.
It’s almost like I can’t stop myself; there’s a fierce need in me to reach out to her.
To touch her. To soothe her.
My hand comes up, and my fingers brush against her wet cheek, wiping the tears away. Her soft skin is cold from the chilly breeze. I cup her face, and she leans into my palm, as if she’s seeking warmth from me. More tears spill from her eyes, and I wipe them all away.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I croon gently. I want to ask her what happened, I want to know the cause of her pain, her tears. But I don’t ask, because that’s the last thing she needs from me right now. “You’re okay, I got you. You’re safe.”
Riley sways unsteadily toward me, and I do the only thing that feels right in this moment.
I take her in my arms, and she buries her face in my neck. She’s not crying anymore, but her tiny sniffles are breaking my goddamn heart. I pull her into my lap, and she settles against my chest. So small in my arms, so fragile …
I’m quickly filled with a wild thought — I want to keep here, in my lap. For as long as I can have her. For as long as she wants.
“Why are y-you here?” Riley finally croaks, after a long minute of silence.
“I was forced to come,” I tell her honestly, my arms tightening around her waist. I like how her softness feels against the hard, rough edges of my body. “But I think I was meant to be here tonight.”
I was meant to find you — broken under the moonlight, in this field where nobody else saw you, but me.
She shifts on my lap and peeks up at me through her wet lashes. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Riley is so fucking pretty, with her loose blonde hair, flushed cheeks and teary eyes. Her lips are swollen and the color is an angry pink, as if she’s been biting on them for too long. “What do you mean?” she breathes.
“Do you believe in kismet?” A predetermined destiny.
A destiny that somehow keeps bringing us together, in the most unexpected ways.
Riley blinks up at me. “I guess. But fate has always been cruel to me.”
“Fate has been cruel to me too,” I tell her, swallowing past the heavy lump in my throat.
“I heard…” she trails off, chewing on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “I heard where you came from. I mean, before you got adopted by your aunt and uncle. You have a sister, right?”
The Hales are popular around here, so, of course, she’s heard of my family history. When Benjamin and Naveah Hale adopted a boy, out of nowhere, after years of being childless, everyone had questions. Everyone was curious and so the rumors started.
Nobody knows the exact details. Though. But not all the rumors are false. I did come from a filthy, poor background. My mother was an addict. My father is a felon and has been absent most of my life, in and out of prison. I did live in a trailer park for all my life, until now.
I tuck a stubborn strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “I do have a younger sister.”
Her palm rests on my chest, right over my beating heart. Her touch is almost featherlight, soft and tentative. “What’s her name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Naomi.” Saying her name out loud, after so long, has my heart aching.
“That’s a beautiful name,” Riley whispers. “Do you miss her?”
“Like crazy,” I confess softly. “She’s all I had, until…she was taken away from me.”
“Does that ever make you angry? How unfair fate is.”
I shift, moving to lie on my back on the grass and taking Riley with me. She doesn’t protest; she simply curls up against my body. “I’ve been angry for so long, but my aunt told me that when kismet takes…it gives something else in return. It’s the gift of our patience.”
Riley presses into me, almost like she’s seeking warmth and trying to bury herself under my skin. We’re lying in the middle of the field, and nothing about this feels weird or uncomfortable. It feels right . Almost intimate.
“They stripped me of my dignity and laughed at my undoing. Where’s the gift of my patience?”
“I don’t know.” Rubbing my hand up and down her arm, I stare up at the moonlit sky. “But I can help you find it.”
If you help me find mine…
What is kismet going to give me in return for taking Naomi away from me?
What is my withering soul worthy of?
Riley and I stay quiet for a long time, basking in the thoughtful silence between us. It’s comfortable and pleasant, yet I can’t really explain why it feels like this. The meaning behind the comfort she brings to my cold heart. But I like it.
I like how she feels in my arms. Her breath fanning against my neck, her hair tickling my cheek, her hands tucked between our bodies as we share our warmth against the chilly October night. Her body is not tense, and her breathing is calm again.
She’s not frightened of me, or my size. Being alone with me doesn’t make her uneasy.
I don’t know if she trusts me…
But I know, at least, Goldilocks feels safe with me.
Our silence is disrupted by her phone ringing. Riley lets out an audible gasp, as if finally realizing we’re lying in the middle of the field, and she jerks up into a sitting position.
“It’s Lila,” she says before answering the call.
I sit up too. Riley watches me from the corner of her eye as she distractedly listens to Lila on the other line. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m safe.” She swallows nervouslyand looks up at me from under her thick lashes. “Yes, I’m with Grayson right now. Okay, yeah. Yup, don’t worry. I’m fine. Yes, I will see you tomorrow. Get home safe. Text me when you’re home, okay?”
They say their goodbyes and Riley ends the call. She pockets her phone, and then stares at me sheepishly. “I’m sorry—
“You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
“It’s just…that was very unexpected. You are unexpected. You’re somehow always there, whenever I need help. I don’t understand how this keeps happening.” A nervous laughter spills from her lips.
Maybe because of… kismet.
But I don’t tell her that.
Her brown eyes meet mine, gratefulness in her pretty gaze. “Thank you. For being there when I least expected it, but when I desperately needed it.”
Somehow, I didn’t know that I needed this moment too.
The silence.
Her warmth.
The starry sky.
Her softness.
“You’re most welcome, Goldilocks.”
She tilts her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Goldilocks?”
“Your hair,” I simply tell her.
Riley brings her hand up and she touches the silken strands of her hair. “Do you think I look better in braids or loose hair?”
“Loose hair. It’s very…flowy.”
Her smile widens. “Like in your sketch.”
We both move at the same time, coming to our feet together. “Do you need a ride home?” I ask her. “It’s late.”
“It’s alright. I have my car.” A cold gust of wind blows past us and Riley lets out a whole-body shiver.
“You’ll catch a cold like this.” I reach forward, tugging the zipper of her leather jacket closed. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”
She nods, still smiling. “I’ll send you my chunk of the assignment when I get home, so you can work on your part before Monday.”
“Alright.” I’m not worried about our Law Studies assignment. Riley is smart and hard-working, and I know we will get a good mark on it.
Riley bites on her lip, taking a step back. She looks reluctant to leave. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, she spins on her heels and then walks away.
When she’s a few feet away, she looks over her shoulder at me.
Our eyes meet.
My heart thuds.
She gives me a tiny wave.
I wave back.
My heart stammers again.
Fuck, I don’t understand what I feel for her, but whatever it is — she’s a threat to my heart. And I think I’m already lost in her.