I hoped it was not too late to patch things up. Not in the romantic sense since Liam and I had made a promise to each other, but I wanted to be close to Grey. I couldn’t explain it without sounding irrational. He made me smile without applying any effort. It just made no sense, and yet when he was around, everything did.
It was hard to explain, but at this point, all I wanted was to bring him back home. I wanted to see him safe. In our home.
Lightly knocking on the door, I tried it a few times, but I wasn’t sure my knocks could be heard amidst the music and noise from out here.
“Grey?” I knocked again, but when I pressed my ear against the door and didn’t hear anything, I decided to turn the knob, letting myself in.
There was a small welcome settee inside, in contrast of black and white. A white lamp was switched on, the only lighting available. To my right, which I was assuming to be the bedroom, there was a door ajar, and from the loud noise I still couldn’t hear anything.
I stood in place, not knowing what to do. It was at that point that the bedroom door swung open and one of the women I had seen him with earlier came out dressed in boxers, which I was assuming were his, and a lace bra. She and I jumped at the same time, shocked to bump into each other. Well, from the looks of things, she saw me like I was an intruder.
“Can I help you?Are you lost?This is a private party.” Her smoky eyes gathered in my short jean shorts and my loose white shirt.
Sure my ensemble wasn’t screaming party mode, but I didn’t look like a bum either. I wanted to recoil and hide from the way she was scrutinizing me, but heck, I didn’t let that happen. No one was going to make me feel like a heel, even if she was looking like a lingerie model.
“Is Greyson Edwards available?” Finally, my voice resurfaced.
She smirked before pulling a cigarette out of nowhere and lighting it before me. “What if I told you that he’s busy looking for the Holy Grail in his bedroom, would you believe me?”
She was definitely fucking with my brain.
“He’s with Cheska.” She glanced behind her back towards the door before eyeing me up again. “You can check them out. I’m sure you’d be more than welcome to join them.” Her eyes gleamed. “Greyson, you have a little girl looking for you,” she yelled without breaking eye contact with me.
Little girl? She was fucking calling me a little girl? Infuriating bitch! I was about to snap out of my shell and call her names when the door was yanked open and Greyson, with smudged lipstick all over his lips and neck, scratch marks on his chest, donning his unbuttoned jeans and glazed eyes, emerged.
It didn’t take a moment to sink in that the woman hadn’t been lying when she’d informed me that Greyson was more than busy earlier.
“Olivia,” was all he said.
He didn’t look surprised, shocked nor embarrassed. He looked like he wanted to head back inside the room again.
Why wasn’t he reacting? One month ago, he had been all over me, yet now, he wouldn’t even spare me a second.
I ignored the nameless woman who was sucking her cigarette like it was the best tasting thing on earth and focused on what I had come here for. “Grey, I was hoping we could talk.”
“Olivia…”
He sounded like he was running out of patience, but I just couldn’t give up yet. Not yet. “Give me time—just this once. I won’t ask again.” I sounded like a whiny child, but I didn’t care. This was the only way I could get his attention—seeking him out, going out of my way to find him—and if this didn’t work, at least I could wipe my conscience of any doubt.
He studied me awhile, eyes burning deep gold as he bided time. The woman next to him made a noise, but I didn’t break my stare from him. I needed to connect with him somehow, and he looked like he was weighing things.
Finally, when I was about to crumble, he didn’t look away as he addressed the woman next to him. “Go inside. I have to talk to her.” She glanced at Grey then back at me before making a hideous snorting sound and walking off, slamming the door in her wake.
“You want to talk,” he started, his voice vibrated through me as if he was close, whispering the words into my ear, but he hadn’t moved closer to me at all, “here’s your chance.”
Why was I so nervous? And where the fuck was my voice? Even though he was covered with lipstick stains and scratch marks, his presence still affected me greatly. I felt sad… and I badly wanted to reach out to him in an attempt to explain things, although I knew it wouldn’t be of any use. We both had moved on after all.
Curling a strand of my hair to the back of my ear, I searched his eyes, hoping I’d find the strength in there to keep on going. When his eyes kept growing dark, as if he was getting angry, I gathered my wits and found my voice.
“You’ve been missing school and you haven’t been home. I’m worried about you.”
His nose flared, eyeing me like an enemy. “I don’t want your worry—or your pity. Look around you, can’t you see I’m happy?”
No, the last thing he looked like was happy. My heart reached out to him.
Slowly I moved as close as I could get to him. “I’m concerned. Why are you doing this?”
“I’m fine, Olivia. Look at me; don’t I look fine to you?” His tone held sarcasm.