Page 2 of Scoring Grey

“Why do you care so much about what choice I make? It doesn’t impact you.” If anything, telling Cal would hurt him, considering his focus going into finals would be on this news and not the game.

He drops my gaze and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “My why doesn’t matter…” He comes around the desk, his eyes downcast on the floor as he approaches me. “Tell him.” His hand reaches for the one still firmly gripping two positive tests. “It’s his too, Lou, and while the two of you haven’t always seen eye to eye, I think we both know when it comes down to it, Callum Balfour only sees you.”

I clench my empty hand into a fist, suddenly hating the rumors I’ve allowed to spread. I’m sure Lucas has heard them too; for all I know, he’s helped fan the flames, but Callum started it. He’s too nice, and it makes him an easy target for women who don’t care that he’s taken. I’m the cheer team captain, and that doesn’t make me immune to mean-girl activity. It’s also why I had to play the part. I couldn’t look weak. I’m not weak, but if Callum was going to be too nice, so was I. However, playing that card puts me in a precarious position now. People will undoubtedly question my baby’s paternity. It doesn’t matter that Callum is the only person I’ve ever slept with. This is high school. Perception is reality.

“Come on.” Arlo lightly squeezes my wrist. “I got your six. Lucas won’t come near you.”

“Fine,” I relent before thinking about it any longer and changing my mind. Telling Callum is what I’d planned on doing when I opened the door anyway.

I allow Arlo to walk me through the office, his grip tethering me to what feels like the right choice. However, while I may not be scared of Lucas, his threats aren’t bouncing off how I thought they would. I know he and my parents have a history. My brother, Iverson, told me our parents used to have a friendship with the Balfours, but that was a long time ago. Regardless, I’ll lay it all on the table, and we’ll figure it out together. Maybe it’s just projection, my own fear of embarking on this journey alone lying to me, or it’s possible that without the noise of senior year and college months away, Cal and I might have a real shot at making us work.

The deafening music pulls me out of my thoughts as Arlo leads me down the hall through the clusters of people, and I shove the tests in my hand into the back pocket of my miniskirt. I can’t believe Lucas hasn’t shut this down yet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Arlo growls out, coming to a hard stop that has me bumping into him.

I’m just about to call him out for his abrupt stop when my eyes trace his line of sight, and Lucas’s choice not to shut down the party sets in. Callum’s back might be to us, but I don’t need to see his face to know his thoughts are anywhere but on me. Blair Wyndham is straddling his lap, making herself right at home, and he’s doing nothing to stop her. My body starts to shake from nerves. I don’t know whether I want to storm across the room and slap him across the face or strangle her.

This is the exact mean-girl behavior I’m talking about. I may not carry the title of girlfriend, but everyone in the school knows we’re together, and here she is, acting like she didn’t watch him walk me to class with his arm around my shoulders before leaning in and stealing a quick kiss this afternoon. I want to strangle her, but just like I didn’t make this mess all by myself, she’s not making him do something he doesn’t want to do. If he didn’t want her, he’d make her move, and since he isn’t… I don’t want him. I yank my arm out of Arlo’s grip.

He turns to me, a mix of anger and remorse written on his face.

I nod to where Callum is sitting. “Not a word, Arlo. Not a fucking word.”

1

ELOISE

PRESENT - SIX YEARS LATER

“Get a grip, Eloise,” I say as I let my fingertips brush over the cold metal knob. “It’s just an empty condo. He’s not here.”

I can still walk away. I don’t have to go inside; going in will change everything. That’s why I’m hesitating now. This moment has been years in the making, at least in my mind. I suppose it’s what’s causing my trepidation now. We’re rarely given the chance to live our dreams, and there’s a lot of pressure in stepping into that reality, especially when the dream has been so beautiful. If this fails, all the what-ifs, the hope, the maybes, and alternate endings are gone with it. But that’s not even the worst part of it. All that hoping and wishing is no longer squarely mine. The stakes are higher now, and it’s that last thought that has me finding my nerve to turn the knob.

As the door swings open, I see a breathtaking view of the harbor and the Toronto Islands. Leaving my luggage by the door, I head straight for the wall of windows. It’s so beautiful. The sun’s setting rays reflect off the water, creating a serene picture I could get lost in for hours. I’d love to paint it and etch it into my memory forever. There’s something so cathartic about nature, but more so this view at this precise moment because it reminds me of home back in Copper Falls. I place my hand on the glass, and the move pulls me away from the view in front of me and back to the room I’m in when I catch the reflection of the recessed lighting behind me. I slowly turn and look around the dimly lit space. It’s nice, more than I expected. I’ve never been to Toronto, yet something about this place feels familiar, maybe because I’ve seen shots of the skyline countless times on the TV over the years, or perhaps it’s because this place has always been one of my alternate endings. The thought barely settles before I pull the lapels on my pea coat tighter as a chill runs down my spine.

“Stop it, Eloise. That wasn’t a bad omen. It was a draft in an empty condo.”

I hurriedly walk over to the glass fireplace in the center of the room and flip it on before heading back to the front door and closing and locking it for good measure. It’s been a long day, and I could use a glass of wine after traveling, but a hot bath to relieve the tension in every muscle sounds heavenly. I clasp my hands together, and the resounding echo that thrums off the high ceiling and marble floors in the empty space only serves to ratchet up my anxiety, reminding me that I’m truly alone. I’m not a fan of being alone. I’ve never lived by myself, and for the past six years, I’ve never had the option to have it any other way.

I walk a little faster and send up a hallelujah when I see a stocked wine fridge under the island in the kitchen. “Perfect.” I don’t have to waste time searching for something to silence the demons threatening to haunt my next chapter. I grab a bottle with a twist top, not caring what grape it contains, and spot a glass front cabinet with stemware. Glass and bottle in hand, I grab my suitcases and head down the corridor that appears to lead toward bedrooms.

I don’t bother opening any of the doors that line the hallway as soon as I catch sight of open double doors at the end with a king-sized bed in the middle of the room. My feet excitedly pick up the pace, knowing our final destination is mere seconds away. As soon as I breach the doorway, I abandon my bags again and flop back onto the oversized bed, wine bottle in hand.

“Damn, how am I supposed to get up now?” The pillow top mattress hugs every curve of my worn body. Lugging my bags through two airports after missing my first flight here was not part of the plans. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and for a split second, I consider not checking it. If no one knows I’m here… this isn’t real. I close my eyes. “Stop it. You’re not this girl, Eloise Grey. You don’t run, and you sure as hell don’t hide.” When I pull it out, I have zero missed calls or texts. No one is trying to reach me. My battery is low. Before it dies, I shoot off a text.

Eloise: I’m here.

Eloise: I locked the door.

I toss my phone across the bed and grab my bottle of wine and the glass. Time to silence the noise.

My eyes flash open, and darkness surrounds me. The longer I stare into the nothingness around me, the more they adapt, and the faint glow from street lamps below slowly illuminates the room. I roll over to find my phone and check the time, and my temples pound. That must have been what woke me from my sleep. The dehydrated organ in my head needs water. My fingers have just wrapped around my phone when a loud banging rolls through the house, all but making me jump out of my skin. As my heart starts running a marathon, I swipe the screen on my phone to check the time.

“Shit.” I never plugged it in. “Great, Eloise, you’re about to get murdered in another country, and you can’t even dial anyone to share your final goodbyes.”

The rapping resumes with an incensed vigor. I sit up, flip on the light beside the bed, quickly scan the room, and spot a bronze statue of the Toronto Space Needle. The building could very well be on fire, and my visitor is a neighbor alerting me of impending doom, but given I hear no alarms, I take the statue. I’ve just started down the hall when a single pound hits the door, but this time, a voice accompanies it.

“Eloise, open up.”

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