Chapter 5
Something to Prove
After class, I sat in a little cafe on campus that I’d come to frequent since my recent devotion to the studious way of life.
I was still rattled from Grey’s appearance at my lecture.
I’d managed to go half a semester without seeing the guy, all for him to plop down next to me in my class.
It was rude. And it had made it hard to focus on the teacher talking about the great literary works we would be studying that semester.
I sipped my comfort oat milk latte and tried to rein in my thoughts so I could focus on the current problem: a short story for my creative writing course. The cursor blinked on an empty page, taunting me.
How am I supposed to concentrate when Grey seems determined to uproot my life? I’d stopped trying to find him at events. I’d unfollowed him on all social media. I’d done everything in my power to make things right.
“Is this seat taken?” someone asked in an all-too-familiar voice.
With a budding sense of dread, I looked up into Grey Hyun’s deep brown eyes. He held a coffee cup in one hand and pointed to the chair across from me with the other.
“N-no,” I stammered.
“Great,” he said cheerfully. He set down his cup and slung his backpack off his shoulder before settling down across from me.
We looked at each other for an awkward moment, neither of us speaking. I didn’t know what I would say when the time came. Screaming red lights blared in my head, warning me of danger.
“What did you think of that class?” Grey asked, choosing to approach a conversation first.
I shrugged. “American lit was pretty similar structurally, so I wasn’t really surprised by anything. Not today at least.”
“That’s good,” Grey said. “I’ve mostly done my literature electives in poetry for obvious reasons.”
“The songwriting.” I nodded. “That must be why I haven’t seen you around campus. I avoid poetry.”
Grey laughed at that. I blinked at him, unsure how I’d been accidentally funny.
“What brought you to British Literature?” I asked.
“Shakespeare mostly,” Grey said. “Figured I could learn a thing or two about prose from him.”
For some reason, the image of Grey holding a feather quill and writing lyrics on a piece of parchment sprang into my mind, and I had to smile.
“What’s your major?” Grey leaned forward, staring directly into my eyes.
I was momentarily taken aback by his intensity. “Uh—creative writing. What about you?”
A smile spread across Grey’s face. “Guess.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Grey had an incredible smile. His teeth were perfect, of course, but it was beyond that. It crinkled the corners of his eyes in the most attractive way. His cheeks formed cute circles. And his face seemed to light up with the grin.
“Music theory?”
“Close.” His eyes simmered. “Actually, it’s audio engineering. Redmond has a pretty good program.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“It does until you realize only one in a hundred use it for anything worthwhile,” Grey said.
“Basically, I’m just taking what I learn and using the campus facilities so I can produce music for Dreamscape.
I hope I can do more with my education than that, but if not”—he shrugged—“at least I got some good music from it.”
“Your degree is about as useful as my creative writing one,” I said. “I mean, I want to get an internship in a publishing house next year, but publishing is so competitive…”
I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or laugh because here we were spending all this money on degrees that presumably were to help us chase our dreams but, in reality, were crapshoots at best. I didn’t like to think about an alternative future where I couldn’t find a job in publishing, and I found myself not wanting Grey’s time and effort to go to waste either.
He was talented and handsome and, apparently, a bit charming. He deserved to get whatever he wanted.
“Seems like we’re both doing a pretty good job at making our parents lose some sleep over our futures.”
Grey laughed, and I joined in, glad that it was this instead of crying.
“So, Ethan, what do you like to write about?”
My face flushed. “I’m mostly focusing on school assignments right now. I don’t have a lot of time to work on personal projects.”
“Well, what are you working on now?” He scooted his chair closer to me.
I pulled back in response, nearly knocking my chair over.
“You okay?” Grey asked.
“Y-yeah I just… wasn’t expecting you to come closer,” I said.
He was still halfway around the side of the table, close enough that our arms were almost brushing. My skin prickled at the thought.
“Do I make you nervous?”
His low voice made my heart tap-dance in my chest.
“A little,” I admitted, too caught off guard to play it cool.
“Why?”
I stared at him. How could he not make me nervous?
He was attractive and talented and confident.
He was everything that I wanted to be, and I found myself drawn to him because of it.
I’d never been drawn to anyone with the same intensity.
After all these years, I could finally understand why the stupid moths flew directly into the flames of their destruction.
And being drawn like that to Grey scared the hell out of me. What good could come from it?
Instead of answering right away, I took a big drink of my coffee. I had no clue what to say.
“I only ask because I saw you at a few of my concerts,” Grey said, saving me from having to respond immediately. “But you don’t come to them anymore. Was it because of our talk after the last one?”
Yes, I thought. “No,” I said aloud. “I’ve just been focusing on school. Though that last concert was… intense.”
“You mean during ‘You Gotta Know.’” If Grey’s eyes had been simmering before, they were sparking now.
How does he fit so much intensity into one gaze? What could one do with such power?
Nodding, I continued, “It was a lot for me. Then, after the show… I’ll admit you messed with my head.”
“So you stopped coming,” Grey finished.
“I did. I needed to clear my head.”
“And did you?” Grey leaned in, getting nearer.
His face was alarmingly close, inches away from mine. I could’ve closed the distance in an instant. But why would I want to do that? His lips did look kissable. Well, as kissable as a guy’s lips could look.
The thought of what kissing Grey would feel like leaped unwelcome into my head.
I was certain his lips would be rougher than any of the girls’ I’d kissed before.
But I couldn’t tell if it would be in a bad way.
I got the sense that his lips would be strong.
Could lips be strong? What would he taste like?
And why am I thinking about it in a crowded cafe, inches away from a campus celebrity?
“I was fine until you sat down in class this morning,” I said.
If my honesty hurt him, he didn’t let on. He just smiled. “Oh no, I ruined your plans to stay away from me.”
His words were joking. He was teasing me. And as much as half of me hated it, the other half enjoyed it.
“Can I ask who you wrote that song about?” I blurted. I instantly wanted to take it back but let the question hang there anyway. It was the one thing I’d been curious about since hearing him sing it.
Grey’s confident demeanor cracked slightly.
He looked down, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink.
When he looked back up at me, his cheeks showed traces of embarrassment as well, though he did his best to hide his emotions.
“I wrote it about someone I met a while ago, and every time they come back into my life, I can’t seem to stay away from them.
I wrote it just thinking over the cycle of heartache. ”
“And who could have so much power over Dreamscape’s Grey Hyun?” I mused.
“It’s a deep dark secret I swore to never divulge,” he said cheekily. “Besides, there’s always a bit of embellishment with any song. Life is much more boring than fiction most of the time.”
I chewed on his words. “True, but every now and then, life throws us a particularly interesting curveball.”
“Really? Do you have any examples?”
I was acutely aware of how close our faces were. Though I was sure I should pull away, I didn’t. I found myself wanting to see where this thing—whatever I could call it—would go.
“Say there’s a boy in a pretty popular local band,” I said. “And he’s always popping up at inopportune times and flustering you. That can be pretty interesting.”
“Sounds like this boy is a real heartbreaker,” Grey said. “Probably sexy and tall with a great personality.”
“I think the words that come to mind for me are ‘cocky and annoying,’” I shot back. “But he could be considered objectively attractive. If that’s your type.”
“What’s your type, Ethan?” Grey’s eyes smoldered at me, the fire barely contained within threatening to engulf me. His leg brushed against mine, sending waves of electricity up and down my spine, the jolts so intense, they were almost painful.
“I’m not sure,” I said, too distracted by his touch, unable to think up a lie. Then my brain finally caught up. “Probably not the school hotshot that everyone wants.”
Grey didn’t bat an eye. “What if said ‘hotshot’ wasn’t distracted by any of those other people?”
I swallowed, unsure of what to say next.
Is he implying that he only has eyes for me?
That no matter how many beautiful people throw themselves at him, he wants me?
That couldn’t be it. Because if it was true, I had no idea what to do with that information.
What could a guy who’d only ever liked girls do when another guy said he wanted to be with him?
“What is your type, Grey?” The question was safer to ask than answer his previous one.
“Hmm,” he said. “I like the mysterious but innocent type. The kind where you know they have a lot going on in their head at all times, but they keep it to themselves. The type who are sweet and easily flustered.”
My cheeks warmed. “And this could be a guy or a girl?”
Grey shrugged. “I generally prefer guys.”
My heart stopped beating long enough for me to worry about it. When it began again, my face was on fire. I opened my mouth to ask him if he was talking about me. I wasn’t sure if it was bravery or stupidity that made me ready to ask. But the moment I opened my mouth, I heard a female voice.
“Grey! There you are!” Heels clicked across the coffee shop floor, and a second later, Carina stepped into view. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
I winced and pulled back from Grey. In the heat of our conversation, I’d managed to forget about Carina’s existence. I wasn’t all too pleased to be reminded of her. She looked at me with a mixture of distrust and confusion, like she knew what was going on but didn’t want to be right.
Part of me felt indignant at that assumption. How could she know what was going on? Do I even know?
“Carina, I’m fine.” Grey got to his feet to greet his girlfriend. “This is Ethan, from my class.”
“Nice to meet you,” I lied through my goddamn teeth.
“Pleasure,” Carina said, equally as sarcastic.
She held out her hand, and I shook it. Her hand was so small and soft. It felt like I would break her if I wasn’t careful.
“Grey, we have that lunch with my sorority in a bit, remember?”
“Right,” Grey said, truly flustered for the first time that I’d seen. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, Ethan.”
“See you later,” I said, disappointment bearing down on me.
I didn’t want our conversation to end. It had been unexpectedly fun.
The disappointment twisted into frustration because I hadn’t asked for this.
I hadn’t sought him out. I’d been minding my own business, and he’d come here to talk to me about our types and having eyes for only one person.
What a load of shit.
“Oh, and, Grey,” I said as he and Carina turned to leave.
He looked back at me expectantly.
“In regards to your question about the hotshot who doesn’t have eyes for any others, I’ll have to see it to believe it.”