Grayson
This girl wants to live like me.
Fuck knows why. But she asked me for help, and I said I’d help her.
I can’t stop thinking about the list full of dirty things she asked me to do with her, to do to her. And if she were anyone else, I would have done it without hesitation.
I almost laughed in her face when she thought I wasn’t attracted to her. Ever since I laid my eyes on her at the party, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.
Something about her intrigued me. I wanted to know more. And then two days later, she came to my house, looking for me, asking me to corrupt her, to make her into everything she’s not.
I keep picturing her blonde hair, her white dress, how she smiles, how sweet she is, how delicate her voice is.
Fuck. I groan, feeling my dick harden in my pants. Jesus, I think about her voice, and I get hard. I wish I knew why this girl, in particular, has me doing things I’d never even think of doing, like turning down sex to help her.
I feel the heat travelling to my groin, and I curse under my breath. I can’t do this to the thought of her. I tuck my dick in my waistband and try to forget about her blue eyes staring up at me, begging me to teach her every dirty thing on her list.
Shit. It isn’t working. I need some fresh air or a smoke or something. I get up from my bed and walk over to the bathroom. Turning the faucet, I splash some cold water on my face to try and divert any thoughts of Rosalie out of my mind.
Even if she did come and ask me for those things, even if she said it wasn’t taking advantage, it still feels wrong. No matter what people at this school think of me, I can’t do what she asked me to or even think about her in a perverse way.
It’s been a week since I last saw her. I haven’t texted, and I’ve been trying to forget her. School’s been keeping me busy enough, and my sales have gone down this month. I haven’t had time to think about her.
Not to mention that my mother has been breathing down my neck every damn day. Phone calls, texts, emails, the whole joint. It’s not like I can avoid her. I need to be on my parents’ good side, or else I won’t get what I need. I’d be attending this school without a purpose because the only reason I’m here is because of them.
The only thing easing my mind is the thought of seeing Rosalie. Teaching her how to be me. How do I even go about doing that? I can’t turn her into a fuck up like me. But I can show her what I do for fun, what makes me feel like nothing else in the world matters.
That’s what she asked for, after all, and that’s what I’ll show her. I pull my t-shirt over my head and open my dresser, pick out a fresh shirt, and throw it on.
My phone lights up, and I reach for it, seeing a text from my mother. I let my eyes drift closed in frustration. God damn it, I can’t escape them. No matter what I do, they’ll always be on my case. I can’t take back what I did, and they see me completely differently because of it.
It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t my fault. They’ll always view me as a deviant, an aberration, and a disappointment to the family.
I swipe away from her message and unlock my phone, searching for Rosalie’s name in my contacts. My finger hangs above the call button. I stare at her name on my phone screen for what seems like forever. I shouldn’t be around her, but I offered to help her, to do this favor for her. She said nothing was in it for me, but she doesn’t know how wrong she is. Just the thought of seeing her again has my pulse racing, and that should scare me.
But instead, I say fuck it, and I press the button and bring the phone to my ear, hearing the line ring.
“Grayson,” she says on the other line. Fuck. I forgot how breathy and angelic her voice is. I start to harden again and curse silently. I run a hand through my hair and tell myself to focus.
“Hey, angel.” I smirk. She seemed to like it when I called her that, just as much as I like calling her that.
“Hey,” she responds with a light giggle.
This is the second conversation we’ve had. I hope it’s one of many because hearing that voice does things to me that I don’t want to think about.
“How do you feel about a lesson today?” I ask her.
It’s a Friday night. Aiden has already invited me to go to another dumbass frat party with prospects of hooking up with one of his groupies. I just scoffed at him and left. He couldn’t pay me to sleep with one of these girls again. It happened one time during my freshman year, and the girl was cute and seemed interested.
But when we finally got down to it, she wouldn’t stop asking me about Aiden. I get it. He’s a jock. Girls fawn over him all the time, and I’m his best friend, so I would know the most about him.
But when she started asking how big Aiden’s dick was or calling me Aiden, that’s what made my balls crawl back into my body and far away from her.
And when I told Aiden that, he cracked up, laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. But he still doesn’t let up on passing his groupies onto me, which I reject every time.
So, no. I don’t ever want to hook up with one of Aiden’s groupies again, or anyone else at that party.
Right now, I’ve got an angel on the phone asking me to take her on adventures, to corrupt her, and sadistically, I’m enjoying it.
“Today?” she asks, sounding a little panicky.
“Uh, yeah?” Shit. Has she changed her mind? I thought she’d be down for it. It’s been almost a week since she came to me, and tonight seems like the perfect opportunity to show her how I live. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, that’s fine.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s… ugh.” She groans, clearly frustrated, and I take a minute to collect myself. Even when she’s angry, she sounds heavenly. “I’m supposed to be flying out to New York tonight.”
“Oh?” I say because I don’t want to make it seem like she has to come with me, and I don’t know if this is just an excuse she’s using to blow me off.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Long story, but my mother is basically forcing me to.”
We may have more in common than I originally thought. I recall her telling me about wanting to be more than her mother’s expectations, and she sounds exasperated, so maybe she isn’t blowing me off, and that makes me smile.
“I thought you said you wanted to escape your mother,” I say, remembering that was one big reasoning for the list in the first place.
“I did, but—”
“Then come out with me tonight. Forget your mother.”
“I can’t,” she says, sounding defeated.
My eyes shut closed. I really wanted to see her again. I need a distraction tonight, and she sounds like she needs the same. “Rosie. Come on. You said you wanted fun, so let’s have fun.”
She’s quiet for a while, and I think she’s going to decline again. I start to lose hope that this arrangement will ever work if she can’t take one weekend away from her mother, but then she surprises me.
“Okay.”
I smirk. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I hear a small laugh from the phone, and I can’t help but close my eyes and smile, imagining what that laugh would look like if she were here.
“Will you be ready in ten minutes?” I ask.
“Maybe?” she says, sounding more like a question than an answer. “What should I wear? Where are we going?”
She’s asking me for fashion advice? My lips twitch in amusement. I’ve only seen her twice, but both times I couldn’t stop staring at her, at the way clothes fit her like they’re made for her.
“We’re going for a drive,” I tell her instead because I couldn’t care less about what she wears. I know she’s going to look hot in whatever she puts on.
“A drive?” she asks skeptically.
“Yep.”
“Okay,” she says after a second. “I can do that.”
“Great.” I waste no more time. I grab my keys from my nightstand and rush out of the door. “Where do you live?” I ask her. “I’ll come pick you up.”
“Over on Lincoln Road,” she says, her voice muffled and sounding far away.
My brows furrow. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
I groan at the image of her undressing. Jesus, I need to control myself. I don’t want to show up with a hard-on and scare her away. “Okay, I’m going to hang up. See you in ten.”
