Chapter 50
GRAYSON
It’s late. And yet, I’m parked in front of the Blue Lion Apartments, looking up at Selena’s window.
After dropping Sammy off from the airport, I drove over after a few important stops. The truth is, I promised Selena we’d talk, but I’m rethinking that. I can text her, end things here. Simple.
Asking for more is asking for trouble. The problem is…I want more. I want more even if I shouldn’t…
What the fuck am I doing? I should go home. When I put the key in the ignition, my phone buzzes.
Samuel Alvarez
what time ispractice tomorroww?
Trevor Harris
Yo Sam.
Text your sister and ask her to convince G to give us the day off!!
Troy Kim
we should all text her
Samuel Alvarez
dont be assholes
Grayson Rhodes:
Practice is still on. No excuses.
Trevor Harris
Oh really? Is that what happened a week ago?
Troy Kim
*laughing emoji*
It was two weeks ago. Selena had a concussion. I don’t regret canceling practice even if these motherfuckers keep bringing it up.
Michael Svenson
It is late. You should all be resting.
Samuel Alvarez
*middle finger emoji*
Not sure that’s meant for me or them. Both, I’d wager. Sammy and I talked though. On the drive back from the airport, before I dropped him off at Gibson Place. It was tense, but one thing was certain, he’s proud of his sister.
“I can’t believe she did that,” Sammy said as we left the airport.
“Can’t remember a time when Selena disagreed with our parents if it had to do with her life.
I mean, she wasn’t afraid to call them out on any closed-minded bullshit or to back me up, but…
” he sighed, looking out at the empty streets. “That’s why she didn’t date, you know?”
Sammy looked at me then.
“They said she couldn’t have a boyfriend until after her quinceanera. Then until she graduated high school. Then, after she finished college.”
“Did they tell you the same thing?” I asked.
“Nah,” he laughed. “They didn’t give I shit what I did.”
Sounded familiar. Sammy leaned back in the seat.
“I used to think it was because I was a guy—we’re Mexican, there’s machismo and shit like that—but I think it’s because they don’t expect much from me.
Selena’s always been the smart one. The straight-A student.
The one getting all the awards. She had colleges knocking on our door all through high school.
” He paused for a long time, then lowered the volume on the car stereo. “Don’t hurt my sister, Gray,” he said.
His words nearly knocked me out. I wanted to drive faster. Get to Gibson Place in a hurry. Then, I wouldn’t have to listen to this.
“I don’t know what you guys have going on, and you don’t have to tell me.
Actually, I’d rather you didn’t,” he said with a shudder.
“You’re both adults, I get it. I can’t tell you guys what to do and I wouldn’t want to either, but Selena doesn’t deserve to be used for a couple weeks, then tossed aside. She deserves better than that.”
She does deserve better. It’s the reason I get out of my car and run up the stairs to her apartment.
As I’m pacing back and forth at her front door, I decide to do it. Second guessing every letter I type, I send the text.
Grayson Rhodes
Are you awake?
Blood beats in my ears. I question if I should’ve sent that. It’s late. She must be tired. She played her first game since the concussion. Her parents were there to see her play. Selena talked to them, stood up for herself. She has to be exhausted after all that.
The last thing she needs is me bothering her. I step away from her door.
Princess
yeah I’m awake
Thank fuck.
Princess
can’t sleep
are you staying at your place?
She sends a second text before I can reply to the first. I should stay at my place, but the truth is I don’t want to. I like going to bed knowing she’s only a couple of steps away.
I take a deep breath. Here we go.
Grayson Rhodes
I’m outside.
My heart is racing fast. Adrenaline runs through my veins.
There’s footsteps. Lights. When the front door swings open, I’m afraid the pounding in my chest is going to knock her down.
“Hey,” she smiles, looking adorable in my hoodie, a pair of green shorts—very short shorts—and fuzzy socks.
“Hey.” I’m standing at her door smiling like it’s the only thing I know how to do. Earlier, when her dad was here in the living room too, I might’ve done the same thing. I didn’t even see him until he spoke. But right now, no one else is here.
Her hair is down and the bandage on her temple isn’t very noticeable, but I notice.
I cleaned it every morning and every night for over a week.
The bruise on her cheek is gone. It went through a myriad of colors, from red to almost black to purple then yellow.
Looking at her now, you’d hardly know it had been there at all.
“Nice hoodie,” I say simply to say something. I wonder if she was going to sleep in it. The thought has me swallowing hard.
“Oh,” she blushes my favorite shade in all the world. “It’s yours,” she chuckles awkwardly. “Do you want it back?”
She starts to take it off and stops midway. I get a glimpse of her smooth stomach and the shortest shorts. They’re green with a white trim and have the number 12 stitched near the hem. I can’t look away from how they ride up her deliciously thick thighs.
“Oh, um, I’m not wearing anything underneath,” she mutters and my mouth waters. Fuuuck. I have to ignore the semi that springs to life in my pants if I’m going to get through this.
“We should talk,” I say and she takes a step back.
During her recovery time, I kept things between us strictly platonic, barely friendly.
I didn’t say any of the things I wanted to (like how fucking beautiful she looked when she woke up, like morning sunlight, fresh-faced and stunning, her chocolate waves in disarray).
I kept my hands to myself at all times. There were no lingering touches or caresses.
It took Herculean effort to help with her baths, to keep my eyes on hers, my hands on her hair, my thoughts from spilling out of my mouth.
I deflected her every question about us.
I had to. My sole purpose was to make sure she was okay. Nothing else mattered.
But, she’s okay now. And I’m barely holding myself together.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Fuck yeah, I do.
“In the apartment, I mean, not—”
“I know what you mean, princess.”
Her eyes widen and she laughs softly, her cheeks flushing pink. My heart rate picks up.
“I forgot something in the car,” I mutter. “Be right back.”
I run downstairs. Not sure why I’m feeling this way. Hesitant and on edge. I’ve been in her apartment every damn day since the concussion. I had to be. I couldn’t leave her side.
Selena didn’t seem to mind my being here however. In fact, a part of me wants to believe she’s enjoyed it as much as I have.
The moment I saw her go down, I’ve never been more fucking terrified in my life.
Sammy mentioned hits like that occur all the time in soccer, but I’d never seen it happen.
It was brutal. Selena doesn’t remember, even after watching a video of the events.
But I do. The memory of her getting hit, losing consciousness, bleeding, it fucked me up.
That shit literally keeps me up at night.
Unlocking my car, I grab the stuff I bought, then return upstairs. Selena hasn’t moved from the spot I left her in.
She smiles at me, shaking her head in amusement when she sees what I’m carrying. That glint in her eye has got me feeling nervous again.
“The bakery closed early.” Blood rushes to my face and I have to clear my throat in an attempt to keep my composure.
“So, I couldn’t get the churros you like, but.
..” my words drift off while I hand her the yellow tulips and iced coffee I’d left in the car because I kept second guessing myself. It’s becoming a pattern.
Her lips part. “Grayson…”
Love how she says my name. Kind of fondly, kind of exasperated.
“Let’s talk in my room,” she whispers. “Jess is a light sleeper.”
She turns to go and I follow behind like a lost puppy.