The moment I enter my dorm room, I flop onto my bed like a sack of emotional potatoes. My thoughts weigh heavy, and I roll over to face the ceiling. No matter how crystal clear the situation was and how I perceived it, it is cut and dry: Grey was looking at an engagement ring. I can’t help but be nervous. Hell, scared, even! I love him. I really do. But I never thought of getting married so young.
I shouldn’t be thinking so irrationally without any concrete evidence it’s even intended for me…but that’d mean it was for someone else…crap. I rather it be for me now. It’d be catastrophic if he proposed to some other girl. Just imagine if it’s Diana…I think I’m actually going to throw up.
I sit up before I can choke on any on-coming vomit and grip the side of the springy mattress. I rub my fingers over the fringe and daydream about sleeping in Grey’s bed. His is much more comfortable than mine, no doubt.
Out of nowhere, I begin imagining waking up to Grey every morning. His face would be smushed and cute, and immediately a smile would appear on my face. I would swipe back a rueful curl springing down his forehead and gently kiss his nose. Maybe we’d alternate mornings, and I’d wake to find him hovering over me with that radiant smile of his. You know, the ones with the twin dimples in his cheeks…
Vibrations wake me out of my enchanting daydream. I shoot to my feet, shocked, and pull out my phone. It’s a text.
Grey: Wear one of your fancy blouses. Pack a bag of clothes. And meet me in the lot in 10.
“Huh?” I’m beyond confused, but I put my phone in my pocket and shrug. He has something up his sleeve, but maybe it’ll be good? Either way, I do as told.
I change out my sweater for a red off-the-shoulder silk blouse. I even switch my washed-out jeans for a darker pair, and tug on black booties. As I brush my hair and look into the mirror on my desk, I find myself lucky that the pair of earrings go well with the outfit. I actually look nice. I swipe on some lip gloss and mascara over my eyelashes before moving to my dresser. I neatly pack necessary items, then sling the bag over my shoulder.
When I get to the parking lot, Grey is waiting outside of his car. He leans against the hood, rocking a pair of dark shades and a cigarette between his lips. He’s relighting it as I approach him. Blowing a puff, he quirks his pink lips into a smirk and slants his posture as he takes me in. My heart does a double take. He is the definition of bad…but damn, does he make me feel irrevocably good. I jump into his arms, and he kisses my temple, blowing smoke into the air.
“You look different…what’d you do to your hair?” he asks, puzzled, and runs his fingers through a small chunk.
“I got it done professionally this morning,” I tell him, and he nods. I honestly didn’t think he’d notice. This just proves how much he pays attention to me. “So what do you have planned?”
“I’m not gonna just tell you,” he says vaguely, gripping my waist. “I haven’t seen you all day. Ain’t you gonna give me a kiss?” he rasps and leans down, but I hold my hand up, and his lips meet my palm.
“Oh, hell no,” I say and push his head back. “I’ll kiss you after you spit that cigarette out and brush your teeth. You should really quit. They aren’t good for you.”
“Neither am I, yet here I am, and you aren’t running away.”
“I’ll never run away, but into you? Every single time,” I say honestly and, with a grin, he sweeps me off my feet and turns, placing me on the hood, leaning over me with smoke lingering in the air.
“So you’re saying I’m your poison?” He arches his eyebrows, and I shamelessly nod, eyeing his lips. “That’s a compliment, believe it or not.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously.
He laughs as he flicks the cigarette behind him. “Hell yes. I’ll quit if I get to have you—you’re a better addiction.” He licks my bottom lip, and I moan.
“We sound really toxic,” I admit and curve my hands around his hard shoulders.
He shrugs and whispers, “Is that so bad?”
“At the moment…no.” I catch a glimpse of his smile before I attach my lips to his. His mouth seamlessly moves with mine. I taste the cigarette on his tongue and grip his hair. But we should go before we’re arrested for extreme PDA. My point is proven when a herd of girls’ voices both cheer and tell us off as they pass by.
He laughs the same time I do as he retreats his lips from mine. “Let’s roll, baby.” I laugh and grab his hand so he can help me off the hood. With flushed cheeks from heated glares and winks, I slide into the passenger seat next to him. He backs out of the parking lot and zooms down the road. Comfortable silence fills the car. As he drives, he runs his fingers up and down my thigh. I smile at the touch and close my eyes in bliss.
I lean against the window and slap his hand away before he can turn on his horrific music. “My car, my music,” he says without looking from the road.
“My ears, my music,” I retort and turn to a radio station playing a popular song and turn up the volume.
He merely smirks. “You look hot.”
“Thanks,” I say and fiddle with his charm. “Is there a specific reason why you had me get all dressed up? You’re not exactly matching the dress code.” I nod at his usual leather jacket and biker boots.
He shrugs and taps his fingers on the wheel as he turns the car. “I’m wearing a new shirt. Don’t you see the V-neck?” He proudly plucks his shirt.
I open my mouth to reply, but a glint of light on his wrist catches my attention. It’s just a watch. And then another little glint on his chest…I squint my eyes and smile.
“Is that the charm?” I point to the chain around his neck, and with an adorably shy smile, he touches it and glances at me.
“Yeah…”
“That is so cute!” I nearly lunge over the center console and choke him in a hug.
“Shut up about it.” He grows hostile under my beaming smile and grips the wheel. He’s cute even when he tries to act tough. And to think he was all bad before he met me. I like to think I softened him, changed him to the teddy bear that does things like this.
I just want to kiss him…and I do, a little peck on his cheek. But he swats me, and I laugh, despite the visible smile ghosting his lips.
When I sit back, and he continues driving, I realize something that makes my stomach drop. We are getting closer to his apartment. And the closer we get, the more my previous nerves start up again. The ring. His smile. My dressing up…oh crap.
Soon, we arrive at his apartment building, and he parks. He continues his “bad boy” persona and waltzes into the building with his shades on. But he does carry my duffle bag for me. Teddy bear…
When we arrive at his apartment, I am instantly met with a delightful aroma of food and the sweet scent of roses. I look back at him with a questioning expression, but he just shuts the door and walks past me.
“Don’t just stand there,” he teases.
I follow him and find a long dining table in the middle of the section between the kitchen and the living room. On the table is an array of cooked food that makes my mouth water. Candles are lit, and roses petals surround the table on the floor. I don’t know whether to die from shock, weep from the sweetness, or jump this man’s bones. Maybe I can do all three simultaneously.
“What is this?” I ask breathlessly and shift my eyes to Grey. He takes my hand and, welcoming the usual sparks, he brings me over to the table and pulls out the chair for me. I raise a brow, and he clears his throat. I kiss his cheek, catching a small smile from him, and laugh lightly before sitting in the chair. “Grey…”
He sits down next to me and scratches the back of his neck. “I was gone for a long time and, well, I thought I could make it up to you with this lovely display of foods that I prepared by myself.” I doubt he made this. I saw a receipt from a restaurant on the counter, but it’s the thought that counts. And it’s a hell of a good thought. The sweetest one yet.
“Do you like it?” he asks, squeezing my hand after a while of me admiring the setup. I look at him and throw my arms around him, hugging tightly. He chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I pull back and say, “This is amazing, Grey. Thank you for this.” I turn to the table and then back at him. “But you really didn’t have to do this. A simple box of pizza and a rom-com would have sufficed,” I joke.
He shakes his head. “I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you staying with my crazy-ass.”
I frown. “I stick around because I love you. And don’t call yourself crazy…” I take a breath, noticing the unreadable, but puzzled, look on his face, and lean back in the chair. I clear my throat and suggest, “Let’s dig in, shall we? I want to see how great your cooking skills have become,” I tease, remembering how he almost burned down the cabin last month.
He playfully nudges my knee, and I laugh before taking a bite of the lasagna. I moan in pleasure and nod to the food. He laughs and takes a bite too. He makes a sound and looks surprised. But why would he be if he cooked it, hmmm…? I burst out in laughter and sit up when he begins to pour me some red wine. He pours his too, and we clink glasses with our noses held up in the air. I almost die in laughter when he makes the most obnoxious hums and praises the wine in a snotty British accent.
As I sit here and eat, drink, talk, and joke with this outrageously complex but ethereal man, I can’t help but think of how much I love him. And how lucky I am to see this side of him. The side that “makes dinners” for me, the side that pouts like a child, makes jokes, smiles like he’s never smiled before. It’s all so…him.
Not only does he make me feel alive, he makes me feel like myself. I can be completely butt naked around him without any thought, I can snort and laugh like a coyote, I can kiss him like I am dying—I can do anything around him and won’t want to do it if I was with someone else. A part of me knows for a fact that this man is the love of my life, and without him, I’d be nothing. I was nothing. And I’ll do anything to keep him. Anything…
Like accepting his proposal, despite the few months we’ve known each other and our young age. It’s intimidating to think I would say yes in a heartbeat. I never thought I’d find “the one” so soon. Especially not in him, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Hey,” he says after downing some wine. “Liv, will you –”
“Yes!” I jump and throw my arms around his neck, silencing his question with my lips. He’s shocked and is still, but after a beat, he shrugs and deepens the kiss. I straddle him and tug at his roots. He groans and grips my hips, leaning me roughly against the table. I take in the taste of strawberry wine of his tongue and moan as I rock myself against his leg. He curses as I reach down and palm him though his pants.
“Whoa, holy fuck.” He leans back and laughs. I look at him, confused. “As much as I fucking love this…all I wanted was a garlic breadstick. But, hey, don’t let me stop you.” He rips down one of the sleeves covering my shoulder, and I freeze.
“Wait…you weren’t just proposing to me?” I squeak.
He makes a sound between a gasp and a “hell no,” but when he sees me frowning and looking away in horror, he curses and clears his throat before saying, “No. I was not proposing to you. Where would you even get that idea?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stutter. “I saw you in the jewelry store checking out a ring, and then you asked me to get dressed up and—and I just thought…”
“You thought I was going to propose to you?” he asks incredulously with a bemused smile. I nod, hurt, and he sighs. “Babe, I was helping David look for a ring for his girl of two years. That’s why he’s barely ever around, because…because he’s moving in with her this week. And I thought you could spend time with me. Sounds pussy, but I did live with the guy for five years, and I didn’t want to be bummed all by myself.”
“Oh,” is literally all I can say.
I am mortified. I can’t even move. I want to get off of him and lock myself in the bathroom and hit myself repeatedly. How could I have possibly thought he would propose to me? Now that I think about it, I am so stupid. We are really young, especially me, and neither of us is remotely prepared to take that big leap. Maybe after we establish our careers and are well financed, but right now? Hell no. I am the most idiotic person on this planet!
“I’m sorry,” I say with a broken smile and slowly get off of him. I have to get away right now; I don’t know why I feel so shot. Deep down I know it wouldn’t end well, so why do I feel…sad?
He grabs my hand and scrapes the chair against the floor as he stands. “I didn’t know you thought I was going to do that. Hell, I thought you were gone by the time I got to the mall with David. I mean, who shops for eight hours straight?”
“Ask Jaimie.” I pull my hand away from him and walk away before he can touch me. “I’m just gonna go lie down.” I am so pathetic. I just got rejected for assuming stuff, which is bad in the first place, and now I’m retreating with my imaginary tail between my legs. What is wrong with me?
“Liv, can we talk about this?” he asks as he enters the bedroom shortly after I do. I take off my pants after pulling off my top. He scans my body and licks his lips. “After we fuck. When did you get that?” He points to the black lacy underwear that “flaunts” my butt more than I’d like.
Looking away with a blush, I wrap my arms around myself. “Today.”
Jaimie dragged me into Victoria’s Secret and had me buy lingerie and other questionable things. I was really hesitant, but the image of this exact reaction from Grey popped into my head, and I let her toss item after item into the shopping bag. These things are expensive as heck, but the way he’s looking at me right now and the way I feel are totally worth it.
But I’m not exactly in the mood for that.
I spot a used black t-shirt a few feet away from me and walk over to it, his eyes on me the entire time. “Mind if I…?”
“Go ahead…but I’d rather you didn’t.”
I ignore his lustful comment and tug the shirt on. It falls to my thighs, and I walk over to the bed, sit down, and stare at my charms, not knowing what to say. He sinks into the bed beside me, and it’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say either. I don’t know if I should be relieved he feels the same or terrified. I am such a fool, it’s insane.
“So…you would have said yes?” He turns to me, and I look into his deep eyes and slowly nod. His eyebrows shoot up, and he faces the hardwood floor. “Wow.”
“I know.” I fall back onto the bed, covering my eyes. “I am such an idiot. I’m sorry,” I groan. He pulls me back up, furrows his brows, and licks his lips in thought.
“You would have said yes?” he asks again, and I squint my eyes, confused.
“Yes…”
He clicks his tongue and nods. “Wow.”
I roll my eyes and grind my fist into my palm. “Can we not do this? I’m already mortified. I’ll be scarred for the rest of my days,” I say dramatically and throw my arms in the air. He laughs, and I blush as he brings my arms down and faces me.
“You would have said…yes.” He sounds like a broken record.
“What are you getting at here?” I ask, and he shrugs with a smirk, but it isn’t teasing.
“I love you, you know that, right?” he asks, and I nod for the hundredth time tonight. “But…I don’t think I’d ever propose to you.” That stings. A lot.
“Oh, o-okay,” I say weakly, tears brimming my eyes.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. The thing is…” He cups my face and takes in a deep breath. I watch with curious eyes. “I don’t ever want to get married.”
My stomach drops.
“What? Why not?” I pull away from him, and he huffs.
“I just don’t think it’d be for me, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” Okay, I’m getting mad. Calm down, Liv. Don’t make a fight—this night was going perfectly. Don’t mess it up now. “Sorry if I’m getting upset…but…why?”
He shrugs and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just not on my mind, nor will it ever be.” I’m shocked, but at the same time, I kind of expected it. He’s more focused on his fighting career, and he doesn’t seem to be the type to settle down, as horrible and judgmental as that sounds. A piece of me feels broken now. Like, I expected us to be more. Even though this is more than I could possibly dream of. I love him…and I just thought it’d be a nice option to have with him, to take that next step.
“But this morning you joked about it when you called me your ‘future wife,’” I point out.
“I was kidding, going along with your little diary…I’m sorry if I led you on that way.” He rubs the back of his neck.
What an asshole.
“What…what about kids?” I ask him, bracing myself for his answer.
“No.” He shakes his head, and I nod mine. “I’m sorry…do you…do you still want to be with me?” His voice is broken, but he tries to play it off by clearing his throat and shrugging. I see it. The preparing heartbreak forming behind these big, black eyes. But I don’t want his heart to break. I’m fine with mine cracking a little bit. I’ll live. But I never want the same to happen to him. Plus, I love him more than anything. So why would I leave him when he makes me so happy?
“Yes, of course, I do,” I say and break into a smile, wrapping my arms around him. He sighs in relief and pecks my arm. I smile wider.
“That’s amazing.” He smiles and smashes his lips into mine. I stiffen for a bit, kind of hurt he wouldn’t ask me if I wanted marriage or kids. Because I do. I really, really, really do. “I love you,” he whispers as he lays me back onto the bed and kisses my neck, softly gliding his hand up my thigh, bunching his shirt around my hips. I force on a smile and play with the ends of his hair.
“I love you too, Grey,” I say breathlessly, my throat constricting.
I want to stay in the moment and enjoy the way he strips me of my undergarments and enjoy the feeling of him inside me, thrusting into and out of me, licking and marking and kissing me…but I can’t. Because I can’t get his words out of my brain.
I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…
Can I really be with him without making that big commitment? I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids…but now there’s a chance that won’t happen. I know now that I don’t want anyone else but Grey. He is my other half now…but my other half doesn’t want anything true and permanent with me. And I can’t help but wonder: Is he worth giving up what I’ve always pictured for myself?
I know the answer to that: Yes.
And that just makes the sorrow rip through me ten times worse.