Chapter 40
GRAYSON
It’s been a week. A whole fucking week.
I need to stop this shit. It’s fucking me up. I don’t understand why it’s torture remembering how soft her skin feels, how fucking good her pussy tastes, or how fucking perfect she looked taking my cock, but it’s an absolute torment knowing it was the one and only time.
I head up to the gym to work through this. If I’m too tired to think, I won’t think about her.
Who cares if it was the best sex I’ve had? Who cares if it’s the first time I’ve ever laughed during sex? Who cares if she trusted me with something so important to her?
None of that shit matters. None of that shit should matter. For some goddamn unfathomable reason, it does. She does.
The thing is, that night, all the noise faded away. I didn’t worry about a thing. Not school. Not baseball. Not the life that awaits after graduation. She made me forget it all. She’s the only one who’s ever done that. Even though she’s not my first, fuck if she didn’t turn out to be my favorite.
When I walk into the gym, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I’m smiling. The fuck? I wipe the pathetic look off my face.
Enough.
After my workout, I take a shower, then get in my car and drive.
Even though I keep going back-and-forth, eventually, I make up my mind and head over to Hamilton Arts Library before I waste more time debating if I should.
The library is located in the Southwest part of campus, so I park where I usually do when I have class and walk over.
She’s not there. Letty is though. She’s sitting at one of the large tables near the entrance.
“You looking for our girl?” she asks, smiling from ear to ear.
The guy behind the checkout counter shushes her.
“No. Need a book. For class.” I walk over to the counter, trying to come up with one I might need. Fuck me, I’m drawing a blank. The only titles popping up in my head are her favorites.
Letty comes up behind me. “Not that you’re looking for Selena or anything like that, obviously,” she grins, “but in case you know someone who is, tell them they can find her at Roar Coffee. She’s covering a shift for Noah.”
Who the fuck is Noah?
“Are you still pitching tonight?” Letty asks.
“Shhh!”
“Tell Selena you want her at the game—”
“I don’t.”
“Right,” Letty laughs.
“Keep it down!”
“This is a library!”
“So stop yelling,” Letty whispers. Then she turns to me, “Good luck!” she mouths, giving me two thumbs up.
Roar Coffee is located in the middle of campus. I never noticed the cherry blossom trees on either side of the building. They must be new.
I spot her through the glass doors before I step inside the cafe. She’s behind the register, taking orders, interacting with customers.
The decision to come here seems ridiculous now that I’m here. Someone behind me asks if I’m going inside and I realize I’ve been standing at the closed door for who knows how long, just staring at her, like some fucking creep.
This is not me. I don’t behave like this. I don’t second-guess myself. I’m not indecisive. And I don’t follow anyone around like a lost puppy. Except her apparently. She makes me break every rule I’ve set for myself.
The bell that chimes when I open the door gives me away. Selena looks up. We make eye contact and I see a flicker of excitement lighting up her pretty green eyes. Warmth surges through my veins.
I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not her saying, “Welcome to Roar Coffee.”
She could be greeting anyone. In fact, she is because the person behind me who asked if I was going in gets the exact same line, “Welcome to Roar Coffee.”
The fuck?
I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s clear she doesn’t care that I’m here.
There’s a tightness in my chest. Uncomfortable. Unsettling.
As I step into the line behind everybody else, I’m just going through the motions. The closer to her I move, the more nervous.
Pathetic.
Someone calls my name. A group of girls near the counter wave at me. Some guy from my finance class approaches. He starts talking about tonight’s game.
Everything’s a blur until I reach the counter. Then my focus turns razor sharp, zeroing in on chocolate colored hair and luminous green eyes.
Before I can place an order, she turns away with a mumbled, “I’ll be right with you.”
The desperation running through my veins is unbearable.
She hasn’t looked at me once since I walked in.
Hours pass. Days. I want to claw my skin off.
Yell. Demand her attention until I have it.
It’s years, decades, and then, finally, her gaze meets mine.
My entire body relaxes. Elation rushes through my limbs. I stand straighter.
Something’s off however. I notice the smile she’s giving me is the exact same one she gave everyone else ahead of me.
“Hey, Rhodes, what can I get you?”
That’s it? That’s all I get? The same question everyone else got?
“Plain black coffee, hot.”
“You got it,” she nods. Same words, same expression. I’m just another customer. After the other night, I’m just some random asshole in line.
I realize I’m staring, glaring, admiring. Shit.
“Will there be anything else?” she asks. For a second, she looks worried and hope springs like a volcano deep within my chest. Then, I see her glance behind me. I’m holding up the line. “Rhodes?” she asks again.
“Yes! No.” I take a step back and bump into the person behind me. “Sorry,” I mutter, then approach the counter again. “Can we talk?”
What am I doing?
Selena looks at the clock behind her.
“I can take my break in five minutes.”
I nod like an idiot. “I’ll be outside.”
There’s tables and chairs in an outdoor patio with the Roar Coffee colors and logo, but I can’t sit still. A warm breeze ruffles the thin branches full of pink cherry blossoms. When my phone rings, I swipe to answer, mistakenly thinking it might be Selena calling.
It’s not. Fuck. I don’t make mistakes like this.
I clear my throat.
“Father.”
“Why are you buying buildings in Tower Lake? We’ve been through this. It’s a pointless endeavor.”
“I disagree. It has the potential to be a sound investment.”
The door chimes and I spin, expecting to see her walking towards me. She’s not. It’s a couple of students exiting the cafe.
When I glance inside, she’s still standing behind the register, smiling at another customer.
“Potential? Please,” he spits out. “You’ve wasted enough time and money on that institution. Enough, Grayson.”
Before I can argue my point, he adds, “Your mother would be very disappointed in the decisions you’ve been making this year.”
His words are cold and cruel, just as he intends them to be.
“I have to go. I’m late for class,” I say and end the call as I turn on my heel and walk away.
I don’t bother returning inside for the coffee I ordered. There’s no point.