Page 9 of Losing Forever
I’d made fun of her so none of my friends would know how she affected me. I was fourteen, but all it took was one glance from those beautiful eyes to do me in. And that was after I brushed up against her satiny skin in the pool and inhaled her sweet scent. Something fruity. Could have been strawberries.
I never knew who she was—didn’t ask because I didn’t want to seem interested—and I never saw her again. To see her here now can only mean one thing, but my brain and eyes refuse to accept the truth.
I hold out my hand. “I’m Grayson. I don’t believe we’ve met?”Please let that be the case.
Her lips curve with a disappointed frown. “We've met.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her delicate ear. A scar on the inside of her wrist catches my eye. It runs up to the crease of her arm. Another pink scar cuts across her bicep. I didn't notice them before when I saw her across the room.
I drag my gaze back to her face and spot another faint scar where her hair parts. The sliver of raised skin goes straight back a few inches and wouldn’t be noticeable if I weren’t as close or as tall.
My heart thumps faster and my palms moisten with realization. The girl from the pool is Noah’s cousin. Based on the glimmer of hate in her eyes, she remembers what I did to her all those years ago.
Fuck me. I'm a dick.
5
Braylee
Iclimb into the backseat of Noah's big Audi SUV and close the door.
“You don't have to sit in the back, Bray,” Noah says from the driver’s seat. “The newbie can take the back.” He smirks at Grayson.
I can’t believe it. Out of all of Noah’s friends, our new roommate and business partner is the gorgeous jerk with the violet eyes. What are the odds?
Grayson ducks his head into the car to make eye contact. “I didn't open the passenger door for me. I opened it for you. So you could ride shotgun.”
I tighten my brows. “Why would you do that?”
“To be a gentleman.”
Laughter sputters from me. It can't be stopped. I don’t laugh often, or at all, but this is too funny. “You're a gentleman now?”
“Now?” Noah glances from me to Grayson and then back to me. “What am I missing?”
Grayson puffs out a breath and opens the backseat door. “I'm sorry for what I said to you when I was a teenager. It was mean. I was a dick. It won't happen again. Please, take the front seat.”
Again, laughter tries to force its way up my throat. Twice in one day. It's a miracle. It's him, the way he's standing there, like a child who's forced to apologize to the girl he picked on. I can't believe he remembers me and what he did. It was so long ago, and I was only affected because I liked him. What's his excuse—elephant memory?
I rub my lips together, proud I didn't crack up again or even crack a smile, and try to look nonchalant. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I sat in the back to be nice. You and Noah are old friends and haven't seen each other in a while. I thought you might want to catch up.”
His features fall and his lips part. Not with shock, but with hurt, as if I wounded his puppy, or worse, his ego.
Did I? He's too confident to be defeated by something I say. Still, I almost apologize and tell him I remember just to get that look off his pretty face. No. Pretty doesn’t describe him. Fourteen-year-old Grayson has grown into an oversized, muscular, sexy man. Figures.
Noah told me he's a baseball player and good enough to go pro, which has me wondering why he's working with us. His body screams strong athlete who can swing a bat, throw a ball, and catch whatever life sends his way.
I wouldn't say he's built like a football player, like Noah. Even though he’s almost as tall as my cousin, his muscles are a bit sleeker, except for his biceps. Those are award-worthy.
As for the light stubble on his chin and cheeks, and the sharper angles of his face, he's moved into the sinfully gorgeous category. He could easily work as a model if this doesn't pan out.
Then there are those eyes, too purple to be blue but almost too light to be violet. Periwinkle maybe, but that color sounds too feminine to describe him. He's more like a warlord from a paranormal romance novel.
Oh my gosh.I'm staring. This is so bad. I clear my throat and make up an excuse for gawking at him for so long. “Since staring you down seems to be ineffective, I guess I'll take the front seat.”
I stand, and he steps back but doesn't move out of the way. Instead, he leans down to my ear, so close his stubble scratches my cheek. “Staring me down? More like staring me up and down. Very effective.” His voice is a deep grumble that sends a shiver through me.
I suck in a breath and duck my head, rubbing my cheek where his stubble touched my skin.
