“Ugh, Grayson.”
“Don’t act so happy to see me, Red.” He chuckles, seemingly amused with my less-than-stellar greeting.
“Are you looking for Carla?” I peer at him through the small crack in the door.
“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and say hello.” He diverts his eyes as he speaks, burying his fingers in his thick light brown hair.
“She’s still at work but should be home soon. I can tell her you stopped by if you want.” I’m certainly not inviting him in to wait for her.
“Sure. I’d appreciate it.”
“Okay. Well, bye.”
“Hold on, Red,” he says before I close the door. “Have you got a minute to chat?”
“About?” I ask. If he wants to talk about Ashton, I’m not interested.
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” I ask, skeptically.
“Are you going to open the door, or are we going to converse through the crack?”
I blow out a puff of air. “I guess.”
Closing the door, I slide the metal latch out of the runner. Grayson seems like a nice guy, and I know Carla’s pretty taken with him, but I’m still angry he brought Ashton to the shelter and gave him my address without asking me first.
Grayson’s eyes meet mine when I open the door fully. He takes me in for a moment before his gaze makes its way down my body. When I see a smile tug at his lips, I feel my face flush. Only Carla was supposed to see me dressed like this.
“What do you want, Grayson?” I ask, folding my hands over my chest.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I step back, allowing him to enter.
He stops just inside the door, and after closing it behind him, I turn and walk toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I hear him chuckle, and when I glance at him over my shoulder, I find his eyes fixed on my ass.
MEOW.
Shit.
“Cute, Red.”
Ignoring him, I repeat my question. “Drink?”
“No, I’m good. But thanks for offering.”
“So, what do you want to talk to me about?”
“I was wondering if you knew what was going on with Ashton?”
“No idea.” I’m curious to know what he means by ‘going on’ but don’t ask. The least I know about that man, the better.
“He hasn’t been himself lately, and I thought you may be able to shine some light as to why.”
I pour myself a glass of water, taking a small sip. “I haven’t seen him since he came here a few weeks ago. You know… when you gave him my address without my permission.”
Grayson shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, gazing down at my carpet. “I’m worried about him, Em,” he says, disregarding what I just said. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen or heard from him. So, whatever’s going on with him, it has nothing to do with me. You’re his best friend, ask him.”
“Did you two have a fight or something?”
“Or something,” I say, placing my glass on the sink with a sigh.
“What do you mean by that?”
“As I said, ask him.”
“I did, and he almost bit my head off.”
“That sounds like normal behavior for him. I can’t see why you’re so concerned.”
He chuckles. “Listen, Em, I’m having a small get-together at my place tomorrow night, will you come? Carla’s going.”
“Is he going to be there?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. I’ve invited him, but he hasn’t committed yet. Apart from work, he hasn’t been getting out much.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Grayson.”
“Will you at least think about it?”
“I guess, but I doubt I’ll change my mind.”
“I’ve invited Chance and Aubrey, too. So you’ll have plenty of friends there.” He gives me an optimistic smile before turning and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you around, Red.”
I shove a handful of freshly made popcorn—minus the salt and butter—in my mouth when Carla walks through the door. It’s not the best comfort food, but a healthier option for me.
“How do I look?” she asks, giving me a little twirl.
“Hot, seriously hot. But, I’m pretty sure you’d look amazing in a paper bag, Car.”
“Look who’s talking. You somehow even managed to make those granny-pants look sexy,” she says, pointing at my crotch.
“They’re not granny-pants,” I say, laughing as I uncross my legs. I place my feet on the floor before pulling the hem of my T-shirt lower, covering my pink cotton underwear that’s splattered with tiny red hearts. They’re cute, not granny-ish.
“Well, they’re certainly not sexy, but you still rock them.”
Unlike her, I don’t own sexy underwear. I did once, a pair of white satin panties that had a trimming of delicate pink lace. I wore them to my prom. It was the first and last time. I bought them just in case things with Kyle Sanders—the hottest guy in school and also my prom date—ended up going to the next level.
I’d heard stories of how girls lost their virginity after prom, and although the prospect of that scared the ever-loving-shit out of me, I wanted to be prepared. It was no secret that Kyle wasn’t a virgin. Every girl in school lusted over him, including me. Little did I know, Kyle-if-I-could-kick-you-in-the-nuts-right-now-I-would-Sanders, wouldn’t be the only person to see my satin and lace.
Once he took my virtue and my underwear, he proudly displayed them like a trophy to everyone in attendance that night. To add to my humiliation, the following Monday when I arrived at school, they were hanging atop the flag pole, flapping in the wind like a sail on a goddamn boat.
I bow my head as the shame takes over. Even after all these years, it’s still there as strong as ever. A girl’s prom night should be one of the highlights of her life, something to look back on and savor in the years that follow. But for me, it was a night I’d give anything to forget. I’d even consider selling my soul to the devil to erase those memories. That night turned out to be the beginning of my downfall.
I watch Carla as she checks out her reflection in the kitchen window.
“You look beautiful,” I say because she does.
She’s wearing a pair of tiny black, high-waisted shorts, a white button-down top that she’s tied at the front, showing off a hint of her toned stomach. The sleeves are rolled up around her elbows, exposing some of her ink. Red patent leather heels adorn her feet, which match her lipstick, and the red and white bandanna that’s wrapped around her head and tied in a bow on top, frame her signature curls. She looks amazing. She pulls off the look effortlessly.
“Grayson’s going to have an instant boner when he sees you.”
“You think?” There’s a huge smile on her face as she turns around to face me.
“I can guarantee it. You like him, don’t you?”
“What’s not to like. He’s sweet, attentive, funny, great in the sack, and he’s hung like a horse.” I laugh at her comment. “And he does this thing with his tongue—”