Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

“Is it always like this?” I ask, lifting myself up so I can see his face.

He tenderly touches my cheek with his fingers. “It’s never been like this.”

“I thought so,” I choke out. I kiss him, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling gently. I feel him grow hard again and smile into his mouth.

“You asked for it,” he growls, flipping me over and slowly sliding into me. He lifts my arms above my head and pins them down. “I think I love you, Paris O’Sullivan,” he says.

I think I love him too.

* * *

I wake up in Grayson’s arms. Wriggling, I disentangle myself and sit up, taking in the view. He’s sleeping on his side, facing me, completely nude. I’m one lucky girl; that’s for damn sure. Last night, he told me he loved me. At least he said he thought he did. Is that the same thing? Or does that mean he’s falling in love with me? I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, but I couldn’t. Until I’m free of Toxic, it wouldn’t be right for me to tell him that. When I do tell him I love him, I want it to be with no secrets between us. I devour the sight of him, unconsciously reaching out and running my fingers down his rippled abs.

“Mornin’,” he says, making me jump. I look up at his face to see his eyes wide open and on me.

“Morning,” I reply, licking my bottom lip. I look down, a little embarrassed and turned on at being caught ogling him while he slept.

“You look a little flushed,” he points out. My eyes rise to his. I roll them. His lip twitches, as he obviously takes pleasure in watching me squirm.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head. “Do you?” he prompts.

“Fishing for compliments?” I ask, sitting up on my knees. My fingers caress his chest, before slowly moving down further. I trace his abs with my index finger, causing him to tense.

He sighs, closing his eyes. “That feels good.”

“I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” I say in a soft voice.

His eyes open. “Babe, you have no idea. Trust me when I say that I’m the lucky one.” He pulls me down next to him, and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and lastly my lips. “I meant what I said last night.”

I open my mouth to talk but he puts his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“You don’t even know everything about me,” I manage to say, my brows furrowing.

“I know that, and I’m enjoying getting to know you slowly, bit by bit,” he says, lowering the silk strap of my pyjama top.

I push my strap back up, narrowing my eyes. “Yeah, you know me like that don’t you?”

His body shakes as he chuckles. “I know you. Not fully yet, but enough. I know that for some reason you hate the colour white, even though your hair is almost that colour and is fucking beautiful. Your favourite colour is blue. Like your eyes, which are also mesmerizing and fucking beautiful. You don’t like to talk about yourself. Learning things about you is like pulling teeth, but you have a good heart. You’re kind, smart, and witty. And the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

He’s right. I hate white, because that’s what they usually make me wear as Snow.

“I know you make this little mewling moaning sound when you’re about to come,” he says, running his hand over my chest. “Want me to prove it?” he asks.

I cradle his cheek with my hand, his tanned skin against my pale. He is all dark, whereas I’m all light. The contrast is beautiful.

“How about I show you how much I know about you?” I purr, undressing and throwing my clothes onto the floor.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes on my body.

“Okay. After you make me breakfast,” I say, grinning and walking out of the room.

He chases after me into the kitchen, makes love to me on the floor, and then makes me breakfast.

Priorities.

When I’m walking to class the next day, I can tell something isn’t right. I run and see a crowd forming in a circle. Pushing through the bouts of people, some of them yelling some of them cheering, I see what the fuss is all over. In the centre of the circle stands Grayson, who is beating the shit out of some guy.

“Grayson!” I yell, stepping into the circle, only to be pulled back by Daniel, one of Grayson’s friends.

“Don’t get in the middle,” Daniel says, gripping me by the waist. I struggle but his hold doesn’t yield, so I turn back to face Grayson. His clenched fist hits the guy in the nose, and I hear a horrible crunching noise. On closer inspection, the person Grayson is fighting is Jake, his friend. What the fuck is going on here?

“Why are they fighting?” I ask Daniel, grimacing as Jake gets in one punch to Grayson’s stomach. Grayson’s next punch sends Jake to the floor. “Why are you not stopping this?” I growl, pushing at him with my hands, trying to get away. Daniel sighs, then bends down and lifts me up in the air, his shoulder to my stomach.

“Put me down, you asshole!” I yell, pounding on his back with my fists. All of a sudden, the crowd goes silent.

“Put her down!” Grayson growls from behind me. Daniel instantly slides me down, and I can feel heat at my back. Hands wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body.

Daniel puts his hands up. “She was trying to get in the middle of the fight.”

“Thanks, bro,” Grayson says to Daniel, stepping to the side and taking me by the hand. We walk quickly to his car. He opens the door for me, still a gentleman even when angry.

“What happened, Gray?” I ask, staring down at his bruised, swollen knuckles. He makes a sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, as if remembering what got him so angry in the first place.

“Gray,” I snap when he doesn’t say anything, but just drives off. He doesn’t reply. When we’re halfway to his house, I can tell that he’s going faster than the speed limit. “Slow down,” I say in a calm voice. He listens to me, and slows down, going the limit. When he pulls up to his house, he slams his fists on the steering wheel, making me jump in my seat.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. He takes in a deep breath, as if to calm himself. He turns off the engine and slams the door shut, and walks off. Just leaving me there in the car. I get out and follow him in the house. He’s standing in the lounge room, waiting for me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Are you a stripper?” he asks without flinching. I freeze. I knew I should have told him myself. I’m so stupid. I only have one shift left before I’m done, and I thought I could get away with it. Fucking stupid. He takes my silence as a yes, because he starts smashing shit around the room.

“Grayson,” I choke out, lifting my hand but then retracting it.

“Jake’s dad is a regular at Toxic,” he says, not looking at me. “He took a picture of you on his phone. Jake saw it.”

What the fuck? No one is allowed to take pictures in the club; he must have done it on the sly.

I swallow audibly, my vision blurring. “I’m sorry,” I say, a tear dropping down my cheek. And I am. So damn sorry, because I know this isn’t something that someone can just forgive. I don’t expect him to forgive me. I fucked up. I wasn’t honest, and now I have to face the consequences.

“All this time,” he growls, dropping onto the couch like he has no energy left. I’ve drained it all. Me and my issues.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat.

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me why,” he says, his gaze connecting with mine. His eyes are cold. Hard. Hurt.

“I was already working there when I met you…”

“Not that. Tell me why you weren’t honest with me,” he says, his tone flat.

“I didn’t want you to look at me how you’re looking at me right now,” I tell him honestly.

He scoffs, and looks away. “I just beat the shit out of my best friend for disrespecting you, when he was right all along.”

It hurts. It burns. I want to tell him I love him, so fucking much, but I’m not that selfish. I stand, my hands shaking, cast him one last longing look, and then I walk out the door. I can hear things breaking as I stand out front, wondering how the hell I’m going to get home. I start to walk. It’s not that far, maybe a forty-five minute walk. I could call Anaya to come and get me, but I figure a walk would do me good. It gives me time to be alone, to deal with the consequences of my actions and feel sorry for myself.

Just like I deserve.

* * *

I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. When I hear a banging at the door, I get up to go answer it. Looking through the peephole, I see Grayson’s angry face. What the hell? I unlock the door and open it, watching as he gives me a once over, as if checking if I’m okay.

“What the fuck, Paris?” he growls, walking into the house. I close and lock the door, and then follow him into the living area.

“What?” I ask, my voice weak. I just want to go to bed.

“I rang you a million times! How did you get home? I was worried,” he says, sitting down and looking tired.

“I walked home,” I say, leaning back against the wall and shrugging.

“You walked home,” he repeats, saying each word slowly.

“Yes,” I say, dragging out the word.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps, standing up and starting to pace.

“Oh, so what, now that you know I’m a stripper it’s okay to talk to me like that?” I ask, gritting my teeth.

“What?” he asks, looking at me as if he hasn’t seen me before. “Do you not know me at all?”

I have no idea what to say, so I stay silent. He doesn’t.

“I was worried. I didn’t want you to walk home alone; it isn’t safe. A few minutes after you left, it hit me; you don’t have your car, and I drove around looking for you,” he says, running his hands through his hair in agitation.

“My phone was on silent. I didn’t even check it,” I say, looking down at my hands. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.” To be honest, I didn’t think he would be worried about me ever again. I guess I underestimated what a nice guy he is. Or maybe he just feels sorry for me? Great. Grayson curses and walks over to me, standing close but not touching.

“Such beauty…” he says, lifting my chin up with his fingers. “Such a shame it was shared with everyone.”

What? I ignore the pain in my chest and the tears threatening to surface.

“Get out,” I say. My voice is calm and collected.

“Paris…”

“I have a huge debt. It’s not even my debt, but I need to pay it nonetheless. But for you, I quit stripping, not even caring how I was going to pay it off. Putting my sister in danger. I only have one night left, and then I’m done.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I know I was wrong to lie to you about it, and it’s probably unforgiveable, but I don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Please leave,” I say, my voice cracking. I drop my gaze.

“You could have come to me,” he says, his voice small. I risk a glance at him. He’s not looking at me; he’s standing there lost in thought. “I have more money than I know what to do with. And my woman is fucking stripping to pay shit off? Fuck,” he says, turning his back to me. He threads his hands behind his neck, looking down. “Do you think so little of me?” he asks, shaking his head.

I gape. “This has nothing to do with you! The world doesn’t revolve around you, Grayson! I stripped before I met you, and I continued to strip after. These problems are mine, and I’m going to solve them. Alone.”

He scoffs. “Well, you’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?” With that parting shot, he finally leaves.

And then I fall to the floor, finally letting go and breaking down.

I apply my fake lashes, wait for them to dry, and then stand up. The white lace material of my dress gets caught on my ring.

“Shit,” I mutter, trying to pull the ring out without ripping the dress.

“Let me help you,” Diamond says, crouching and untangling it for me.

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at my leather thigh high boots.

“How do you feel?” she asks, standing up and putting her arms on my shoulders.

I smile. “I feel good. I’m going to miss you though,” I say.

She grins. “I’m going to miss you too. But, Paris...”

“Yeah?”

“I hope I don’t see you here again,” she says, winking at me.