Chapter 20 #3
Grayson also seems to find it funny, giving me a small half grin. “I’m all for letting loose, just don’t throw up.” He cringes.
I wave a hand. “The next one is my last, promise.”
He nods. “These are mushroom croquettes with truffle aioli and shaved parmesan.”
“Sounds good.” Good is an understatement. My mouth is watering at the smell, and I stuff a whole croquette into my mouth with an approving sound, making Grayson chuckle.
“Is that the sound of you taking back the look you gave me earlier when I ordered?”
Rolling my eyes, I get back to what he said earlier. “All right, Hayes.” He lifts both brows at the use of his last name without “Professor” before it. “What are the lighter topics you’re willing to talk to me about?”
“Six shots?!” I shriek.
“Emma.” Grayson laughs. “You may want to be a bit quieter.”
Looking around, I see the people remaining in the speakeasy looking over at us and smile.
“Sorry, but you expect me to believe that the oh-so-serious professor took six shots of moonshine and ran around campus in his underwear in a Scream mask when he was only nineteen with his ex?” He smirks and nods.
“Was that your ex-wife?” Grayson shifts in his seat, and his forehead creases. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s fine.” He forces a smile. “My ex and I didn’t meet until we were twenty. The ex I was talking about was just a college fling.”
He doesn’t elaborate further, so I move on. “I’m impressed. You were way more fun back then than you’ve been in the past couple of weeks.”
Grayson scoffs. “And now I’m offended.”
“Oh, come on.” I tease. “I’m not saying you have to streak or almost get alcohol poisoning, but let loose. You’re too…”
“I’m too what?” he asks, genuinely curious.
I exhale loudly and take the last sip of my second cosmo. A light buzz has settled into my veins, giving me enough courage to tell him the truth. “Uptight.”
“Wow.” He rubs a hand against his jaw, and his turquoise eyes drift away from me.
Feeling bad for killing the mood, I lean over, and say, “I didn’t mean that in the way it sounded.”
“No,” he says quickly. “You’re totally right.”
“What?” Is this some kind of trick?
He leans back. “Ever since my, um…” He coughs awkwardly, and I know what’s coming next, I just didn’t expect it to be so difficult for him to say.
Everything after his parents’ situation was off the record, which goes without saying.
Tonight’s been enjoyable, and we’ve been getting to know each other like regular people—who just happen to be attracted to each other—and made out once.
“My divorce,” Grayson finally manages to say.
“Correction, ever since my third year of marriage…” I store that small piece of information away for later.
“I haven’t been able to, like you said, let loose.
I guess that’s what happens when you get married young and become a workaholic at twenty-three. ”
“The word was uptight—” I stop at the set in his jaw and widen my eyes while pointing to his face. “See! That’s exactly what I mean. Your face is going to freeze like that one of these days.”
His jaw goes slack with a chuckle. “I was fun in July.”
“Doesn’t count. It was too long ago,” I reply quickly and smile, ignoring the small flip my stomach does.
Grayson sighs. “I keep forgetting how young you are.”
My body tenses up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sits straight, and I see his face contorting as he realizes his mistake. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’ve just had more life experiences than you.”
“That goes without saying, Grayson. You’ve lived longer than I have, have been married, had an entire career, and experienced something no one should have to—but we’re both adults.” I take another drink, anger flowing through me.
“Sure, but you’re still in college…”
“Weren’t you trying to figure out what my major was a couple of months ago, in a bar where you fingered me in?” I say the last part a little lower. As angry as I’m getting, there’s still some common sense left in me.
“That was before…” He doesn’t need to say the rest of the sentence, we’re right back to where we started. I should’ve known better than to think this was anything other than a way to avoid confronting what he’s really feeling.
Nodding, I down the rest of my drink and rummage through my handbag.
“What are you doing?” Grayson’s voice is merely an echo behind the loud, angry thumping of my heart.
Taking a hundred-dollar bill, I place it on the table and stand.
“You knew this entire time that I was twenty-one and you were thirty-one. You knew I was in college, and we’ve known for weeks that you teach at the same university I attend.
But my age matters now?” Grabbing another fifty, I lean down before leaving to call an Uber and channel all my frustration into this one sentence.
“Just because you’re older than me and have lived a different life doesn’t make you any smarter or more mature than I am.
” Standing and ignoring whatever look Grayson’s giving me, I walk toward Cecil, hand him the fifty, and thank him for a great night.
I smile at the hostess and don’t look back to see if Grayson is following me or not.
How dare he treat me like a child. I may be throwing a small tantrum, but he kept saying the wrong things and acting as if I haven’t lived through anything, gone through anything.
He’s barely scratched the surface in getting to know me, but I told him something my friends only know in passing.
They don’t know the details that my family does about my cousin.
And even then, only Mom knows about The Princess Bride because she caught me reading it at an event when I was sixteen.
What was the point of showing me a place like this and making fun conversation only to fuck it up by calling me young when he’s also young and has so much to learn? We both do—that’s the beauty and frustration that is life. We never stop learning.
He knew my age when he kissed, touched, and flirted with me this semester.
“God,” I grit out angrily when I reach the top of the stairs and knock three times like the sign says to.
The moment the bookcase door opens, Grayson’s voice echoes at the bottom of the stairs. “Emma, wait.”
I shake my head and don’t answer as I walk as fast as these heels allow me.
I’m about to round the corner to the lobby when the clicks of his Oxford shoes grow louder.
“Leave me alone, Grayson.”
His strides quicken, and so do mine, but I’m no match for someone of his height.
“Just wait.” He wraps a hand around my forearm, and I immediately pull another simple move from my back pocket.
Grabbing one hand with the other and pushing away easily, I go back to walking away. “Will you stop doing that?”
“Sorry, reflexes,” I lie and open the front door of the hotel onto the quiet street, damning myself for not thinking of where to go.
I think of the nearby bookstore I’ve visited a few times with the gang.
It’s closed, but it’ll be somewhere quiet and hopefully safe while I order my Uber.
“Do not follow me,” I throw over my shoulder.
As soon as I move, so does he. “Let me drive you home, it’s not safe here at night.”
“As you’ve seen, I can handle myself.”
Turning the corner to where the bookstore is, I’m spun around until I’m pressed against a brick wall, making me gasp.
Grayson grabs my chin and tilts my head up, forcing me to see the mix of fury and desperation in his eyes. “Stop fucking running away, Emma.”
I almost growl at him as I pull his hand away from my face and attempt to move under his arms that are caging me in. Then both of his hands wrap around my hips, pressing me back against the wall. Only this time, his body matches the movement as well.
Although I’m still pissed, I can’t help the heat that pools in my core from his hot breath against my neck, causing my body to break out in goose bumps.
“What are you doing?” My voice is quieter than before, but the anger is still there.
“Not letting you get away.”
His hands remain on my hips as I risk a look at him, ignoring my body’s natural reaction to his touch. The pupils I see are dilated, and his eyes seem to be pleading for another chance. His jaw remains tight as always.
“Are you sure you want to keep your hands where they are? Even in the dark, I’m still twenty-one, Professor.”
That only makes his grip tighter, and I smirk at the same frustration I’m feeling, reflected in his features.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he states.
Shaking my head, I shift slightly, which was a huge mistake because it only causes my body to move closer to his, and we both suck in a sharp breath.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I breathe.
He looks at my lips and back up at my eyes. “It was rude.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“And you were right.”
“I know.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “So stubborn.”
Before I make the mistake of losing myself in him, I ask, “What do you want from me, Grayson?” His eyebrows knit together, and his mouth opens and closes three times before my breathing shifts from one of arousal to anger.
“You do not get to bring me here, be rude, and then chase me and try to apologize while also putting me in a compromising position. This is too much, Grayson. You can’t keep doing this.
” I bite my lip and let out a harsh breath.
“I can’t keep doing this, and we haven’t even kissed—”
His lips crash onto mine and latch on hungrily as I squeal, my eyes remaining wide open, but then it’s as if what happened in London was yesterday, and our lips move in rhythm with each other.
It starts off rough and closed, moving into a slower, more passionate embrace, until I lick his bottom lip, and whatever control he was holding on to snaps.