I return from the library hours later. I wish I could have stayed longer, but the librarian and I were the last ones to leave. I am partially terrified and mainly dreading entering the apartment. I would go back to the dorms, but my backpack filled with my notes and books are inside, and I’d have to come back and get it. I hate that I don’t want to go up to the loft. I should be filled with joy and crave to be safely wrapped in his arms, maybe even while discussing how I got to brush up on The Great Gatsby while at the library. But I can’t even call the elevator to go up.
Letting out an exhausted breath and deciding I need to sleep, I press his floor number after punching in the emergency number if he lost his key. I wait a beat, then two, then three, then—then door peels open, revealing Grey. He looks the same as I left him. Disheveled and pissed. Maybe even more pissed, now that I look at the scowl sprawled across his gorgeous but irritated face.
“Where have you been?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes. His words are slurred, and he steps back wobbly to let me in. He’s still drunk. A little bit, but it’s still there. I should have swung around the coffee shop and grabbed a coffee to wait for the asshole-drunk side of him to dim down.
“I went out,” I simply say, bypassing him. I hold my hands to my chest, expecting him to grab them like he usually does whenever he can’t get a straight answer out of me. He always resorts to wrapping his claws on me; it’s quite annoying.
I walk into his bedroom and take out a pair of pajamas and a sanitary pad. I bypass him again as he tries to follow me in the bedroom, but he’s too late. I change and stare into the new mirror I bought, despite Grey’s annoyed protest, for a long while as I try to understand why I love that man out there.
Because you’re a fool, my subconscious says.
I close my eyes before washing my face. I dry off and exit the bathroom. He’s waiting for me when I get out, leaning against the wall with hooded eyes and a frown.
“Where were you?” he questions again.
I merely scoff and turn to enter the bedroom. He grabs my forearm and turns me to him. “I asked you a question,” he gripes. Who does he think he is? He acted like an utter asshole hours ago, and now he’s questioning me like he cares?
“And I gave you an answer,” I scoff again and push against his chest. I pivot on my feet and walk into the bedroom.
“That isn’t enough, Liv, and you know it.” He chases after me, and I make what sounds like a battle cry out of frustration and grip my hair. He furrows his brows like he doesn’t know what he did, what he said.
“What I know is that you’re a dick. Earlier, I was trying to help you, and you flipped out on me for no fucking reason whatsoever. You were the one who came in drunk. You were the one who lost his cool. You’re the one who loves to clam up like a damn vault of secrets. Well, guess what, Grey? I have common sense. And common sense told me to leave before I could punch you myself!” I rant and pant heavily for breath. I face the windows as I try to collect the very little cool I have.
“I got drunk because I wanted to, Liv,” he says, sneering at me. “I don’t need to have your permission to do anything. And you were prying, and I had a fucking headache. Plus sometimes I just can’t stand your talking. So I’m sorry if I hurt your little feelings.” He is such a condescending dick!
I rush over to the bed, pick up a pillow, and throw it at his face. “Have a nice sleep on the couch.”
“Are you fucking crazy? This is—” he begins to say, incredulous.
“Your room, I know,” I finish his sentence. “And it’ll be all yours after I leave tomorrow. But for right now, you go where assholes sleep all across the country—the fucking couch.” I stomp over to him and shove him out of the room.
He stumbles out and begins to scream at me when I slam the door shut and walk back over to the bed. I fall onto it and roughly pull the covers on my body. I listen to him cursing up a storm and a small crash before silence.
Minutes later, I fall asleep with the image of Jay Gatsby’s party playing out in my head, black eyes, and my heart in the shape of a rose, petals falling down, one by one.
***
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs before I can even comprehend what is happening. Hands are shaking me, and I’m sweating like I’d just been swimming in the ocean. I dreamt Nick from The Great Gatsby pushed me in.
But when I open my eyes, they land on a pair so black, it’s unnatural and very…beautiful—enchanting. They search my face desperately, his mouth propped open. He looks so concerned, so scared, so…fake.
“Princesa, are you—” he begins, his voice thick with sleep and an even thicker emotion.
“Get out.” My voice is small and shaky as I am still trying to recover from the rocking nightmare.
“What?”
“I said to get out!” I push at his shoulders and ignore his hurt expression. “Nothing has changed. So just…just get out! Go! Leave me—alone.” I choke out and lay back down with my back to him. Tears stream down my face, landing on the pillow beneath my head. I close my eyes and burrow myself deeper in the bed.
Why isn’t he gone yet?
“I said to leave, Grey!” I clench my eyes shut and brace myself for his departure.
The slam of the door makes me jump.
***
“Careful with that, you dipshit! I will not hesitate when it comes to sticking this up your goddamn ass if you break that!” Julia yells, gripping the clipboard tightly in her hands. I’m afraid it’ll snap. She is really serious when it comes to planning parties, huh? Or is it because it’s Jaimie’s? If not, she’d make a wonderful party planner.
After classes, I agreed to help her with the last finishing touches on the venue for the party. And, to be honest, she’s done a great job doing most of it by herself. The ice lounge is draped with lilac banners with the phrase Happy Birthday Jaimie. Silver-trimmed sheets hang over standing tables, purple glitter and champagne on top of each. The place is gorgeous. And very…purple. But it’s Jaimie’s favorite color, and it’s her twentieth birthday.
“So do you have the food arranged?” I ask as she finishes pinching a boy’s ear when he nearly dropped one of the pieces for the music set-up. I mouth an apologetic “sorry” to the boy and almost cup my own ears out of fear.
She glances over her shoulder with a look that makes me feel dumb. “Are you serious? Of course I have the food arranged. I even got those stupid crusty-donut things she loves so much.”
“They’re called cronuts,” I correct her.
She rolls her eyes and turns around to yell at another worker. He runs away, yelling for his mother.
Jesus, I would not want her as my boss.
“Can I help you with anything?” I ask. Maybe if I can have her busy with a task other than scaring the people helping, things will be easier.
She lets out a lengthy sigh and looks at her clipboard. “Help me set up her presents,” she grumbles.
“Sure.” I follow her out to the front of the venue and pick up an arm full of purple and white presents. “Whoa, this is a lot.” There must be two dozen gifts here. Maybe even more.
“Ninety percent are from me,” she says with a small smirk.
I smile myself and follow her up to the main lounge. We go back and forth, transferring and arranging the presents. Jaimie is a very materialistic person, so I can only imagine the shock and happiness once she lays her eyes on this mountain of gifts. And all from her girlfriend…it’s safe to say I cannot stay in the dorm room tonight. It’s amazing, their relationship. How they barely fight and are so trusting toward each other. I wish Grey and I could be like that. But we butt heads a lot. More than we should.
“That’s it,” Julia announces, brushing off her hands on her pants.
“Do you and Jaimie ever fight?” I blurt out and widen my eyes when the words leave my tongue. “I’m sorry! You don’t—”
“Of course we do,” she answers me, confused. “Why are you asking that?”
I hesitate, debating whether or not if I should tell her my problem. But then I realize, who is she going to tell? She’ll care so little by the time I’m done telling her that she’ll force herself to forget I ever even asked.
“Because Grey and I…well, we do. A lot. And—and we keep going back and forth all the time, sometimes I feel we’re too broken to be together,” I admit.
She laughs, catching me off guard. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh. Ever.
“Are you dumb?” I cower, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t take it personally.” How can I not? “Look, couples fight all the time. I know you’re new to all of this relationship stuff, but it’s a common thing. It isn’t all glitz and glamor and butterfly kisses. There will be disagreements and heartbreak and annoyance and frustration—just about every bad thing you can think of…but if it’s really meant to be, then the love will outweigh everything else. Everything else.”
***
I’ve been thinking deeply about Julia’s words ever since I left the lounge. Fortunately, she gave me a ride before she could rip out a poor boy’s throat. Plus, the apartment wasn’t that far from the lounge. It sure beats standing in the freezing cold; it’s even begun to snow.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what she told me, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t just completely give up on Grey. I have to continue trying with him, see out this stupid argument that shouldn’t have even started in the first place. But that means I can’t let his harsh words get to me.
I should have stopped at the bar to prepare me for this…
Clearing my throat and the Grey-like idea from my head, I enter the elevator shaft. Maybe he’s calmed down enough and is sober enough to talk to me. Maybe he took deep breaths and thought about how good we were before. Maybe—
The elevator door opens…revealing a woman with raven-colored hair, red lips, and a slimming dress. I watch with a cool, icy glare as she cocks her head and smooths out a slightly wrinkled spot on her tiny dress.
“How may I help you?” She raises her eyebrows and looks me up and down.
“I—is Grey here?” Who the hell is she? More importantly, what is she doing here?
“Who’s that, Paige?” Grey’s voice booms behind her. She steps to the side, and his eyes land on mine and widen the same time mine does when I look at his attire. Or lack thereof. He is naked and wet, save for the towel hung around his hips.
“Oh…hey, Liv.” He smirks at me and winks like he’s proud.