Page 2 of Pucking Grey

I’m shaking, trembling, feeling like I could scream, cry, hide in a cave, and kick someone in the crotch all at the same time.

“What do you need from me, Madison?”

My breath is shaking as I try to calm myself. I can’t let Greyson see how weak I am, but it’s too late because I can’t stop the tears. His eyes give me no pity. He really is heartless. But calling me by my whole name brings me back to reality, back to why I’m even talking to this asshole in the first place. He isn’t my friend, he never has been, never was, and never will be. That’s why he’s calling me Madison and not Maddie. He knows absolutely nothing about me. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken until right now.

“I need…” I begin to say, but I stop again. He waits patiently. I mutter, “Revenge.”

“You wanna fuck?” he asks unsurprised.

I hold my breath at those words. It’s too vulgar, not my thing. My insides twist, not in a good way, they twist like I’m an object he can use. Distaste enters my mouth. I think he sees it on my face but ignores it because he says, “Thanks for the offer but no.”

He takes a step as I say, “I’m not asking for that.”

He turns to me, impatient. “Then what is it because I need to fucking go.”

“A fake boyfriend,” I finally spit out. My eyes are closed because I know how stupid it must sound.

He genuinely laughs like he finds this amusing. “No,” he states and then walks away.

“Greyson,” I plead, opening my eyes and grabbing his arm. His bicep muscle is firm under my palm. He exhales like he’s sick of me and sick of this conversation. Like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

He shakes his head. “I’m not fucking doing it.”

“Why?” I challenge him. “Are you scared?”

He grinds his teeth, causing his jaw to flex. “You’re like a little girl playing pretend for revenge, and it’s stupid. I’m not scared of anything.” He shakes his head like I’m dumb.

“Stupid?” I ask, disgust at the back of my throat. This asshole thinks he’s so above me, like he didn’t fuck every girl who looked twice at him last year. Like he isn’t the stupid one here. I need to divert this or we’ll both end up arguing about something that doesn’t matter. I don’t need to tell him that I’m not stupid because I already know I’m not. I’m not here to prove anything to him. “What’s stupid is Matt fucking some chick, and you not willing to help me get back at him! That’s what’s stupid. You act like you’re friends with him.”

“There’s nothing in it for me,” he says, impatiently.

I chuckle. “So, I have to sleep with you to get you to agree?”

“I would never fucking sleep with you.”

I gasp like I’m offended. Like that means I’m the ugliest person on campus. Insulting me will get nowhere because I’m fucking persistent. I spit back, “And I would never sleep with you either. That’s not even the point. If you want to prove you’re the better forward, the first thing you do is take his fucking status by chopping down his ego.”

“Nice try, Wilder.” He pats my shoulder like he feels bad for me as he turns to leave.

“Will I see you at the party tonight?” I ask as he walks away without another word. My revenge plan has gone to shit. I need to figure something else out because I need Matt to fucking suffer. I open my phone to text my best friend, and the porn is still on. This time I hear Matt moaning. I close the app and stare at the black screen out of frustration.

When I reach my apartment that I’m renting with three other seniors, my best friend in college, Sydney Lawrence, is waiting patiently to know how my proposal to Greyson went.

I don’t want to get into it, but she can’t help herself. Her bright brown eyes have been waiting for me to walk in through that door. I can probably count the hours that she’s been sitting at that table.

“So?” Sydney asks impatiently. “I texted.”

“Yeah,” I say, clutching my phone. I take my bag off my shoulder. “I just wanted to get home.”

“He said no,” she states without question, watching me carefully. I hate that she can read me like a book. Her laptop is fired up with a dozen tabs open.

“He said no. It doesn’t matter,” I say, sitting across from her. The placemat below me is stained with red wine from last weekend. Sydney is a neat freak, so she wasn’t happy about the stain not coming out in the wash. I think she tried five different methods and then finally gave up. She leans back and says, “Were you convincing enough?”

I close my eyes at her ridiculous question. She laughs in return. I touch the red wine stain and mention, “He made it clear he would never sleep with me.”

She cackles, slamming her laptop shut. “That’s bullshit. What else did he say?”

I hum. “Well, he didn’t know about the video, so I showed him. And… he laughed.”

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