Rm w/a Vu(48)

“Oh,” I say, my voice falling to barely above a whisper. “I actually have plans tonight.”

Greyston seems happy to hear this. “Great. You going out to a movie with Daphne?” he guesses.

“Um, no. There’s this frat party on campus. I was invited to go by a classmate. Erik.”

The happy smile fades from his lips and he sits up, resting his forearms on his thighs and looking at his feet. “I see.” Greyston stands up and looks down at me. “Well, I’m going to go and unpack my things. You have fun tonight.”

Greyston leaves me alone in the living room, and I can’t help but feel like he’s upset with me. I don’t like the idea, and I wonder what I might have done to upset him. Deciding to go talk to him, I make my way up the stairs. When I reach his door, I find it closed, and I can hear him talking. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I press my ear to the door. His voice is far too low for me to hear, so I give up trying and head to my room to get ready for the party.

I step into my closet and look through my clothes. It’s been so long since I’ve gone out on a date—even with Ben—that I’m kind of at a loss. I shoot Daphne a text for her advice since she knows my small wardrobe pretty well, and it’s not long before I receive her reply.



I go through my clothes, locate the items she’s suggested, and pull them on. The skirt isn’t so short that it gives the farm away for free, but it does show off a decent amount of leg, making them look longer than they are, and the shirt has a low back, showing off an ample amount of my sun-kissed skin. Happy with how I look, I find a pair of comfortable heels to complete my outfit and head to the washroom to do my hair and makeup. I keep it simple, playing up my eyes and the color of my shirt with a light blue shadow and adding a coat of mascara. Keeping the low back of my shirt in consideration, I pull my dark hair up into a twist and secure it with several hairpins, letting the ends fall down to brush my neck.

Just as I’m giving myself a final once-over, the doorbell rings. I find I’m nervous, but not in a butterflies-in-stomach kind of way. Taking a deep breath, I exit my bedroom to answer the door. It takes me by surprise to find that Greyston has already invited Erik in.

That’s when the butterflies erupt. Not because I see Erik, I realize, but because Greyston’s eyes have shifted to watch me descend the stairs. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but there’s something in the way he’s staring at me that confuses me. If it were anybody else, I’d swear that particular look resembled…desire.

I shake off the ridiculous thought and continue toward the door. When I look up at Erik, who’s dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, he’s looking at me in an entirely different way than when he asked me out. I begin to wonder if Erik is expecting more than I’m willing to offer up tonight.

“Hey,” Erik says, his eyes moving down the length of my body, taking a little more time than necessary on my breasts. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” I look between him and Greyston. “I take it the two of you have met?”

Greyston seems less than impressed; in fact, he seems downright hostile. “Oh, we’ve met.” I try not to read too much into it, but I think I detect a note of jealousy in his voice. This only serves to further confuse me when I pair it alongside the way he was looking at me a moment ago.

I’m about to suggest to Erik that we leave when Greyston’s hand reaches out and takes mine. His hold is firm, yet gentle, and his thumb begins to move back and forth over the back of my hand. Sparks shoot up my arm, and my eyes lock on his. “Can I talk to you a minute while Erik waits for you…outside?”

“Uh, sure.” I turn to Erik with a nervous smile. “Why don’t you go wait by the car? I’ll be right out.”

Erik seems reluctant, but does so with one final look from Greyston. I shouldn’t, but I find this odd display of his kind of sexy. The minute Erik is outside, Greyston closes the door, his palm flat against it as if holding it in case Erik tries to come back inside.

“What’s up?” I ask, truly curious about what is possibly going through Greyston’s mind right now.

“I don’t like him,” is his short reply.

I’m not sure how to reply to that. Greyston doesn’t even know Erik—hell, I don’t even know him that well yet; isn’t that what dates are for? To learn about someone that you may have expressed an interest in?

“I’m sorry?” I finally say.

Greyston sighs heavily, dropping his hand from the door and running it through his hair, never breaking our stare—or his hold on my hand. “You could do so much better. I don’t trust him.”