Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

“Saw you sitting here alone and thought you might want some company.”

“You took me hiding under a tree as a cry for company?” I ask, fighting a smile.

I finally turn my head to look at him. He’s sitting against the tree with one leg stretched out and the other bent. His arm hangs off the bent leg, a drink held in his hand.

He gives me a crooked smile, making one of his dimples pop. I frown at him, wondering why he doesn’t react to my comments. “Saw a beautiful girl sitting alone, and I’m not one to miss an opportunity.”

I pick up my bottle of water and unscrew the lid. “I can see that.”

“So you’re a History major?” he asks when I don’t say anything else.

“Yep,” I say. “I love history.”

“Me too,” he says, and I turn my head just in time to see his grin. “What’s your next class?”

“Methodology of History,” I say, trying to plan my escape. I look at the time on my phone—an hour until class starts.

“Shit,” he says, and I glance over to see his face momentarily fall.

“What is it?” I ask, sipping on my water.

“I was going to take that class. I should have,” he says, biting his bottom lip.

I laugh. “I think you and I have spent enough time together today, don’t you?”

“Never,” he says, adding a cheeky smile. “Plus I know for a fact that I’m great company.”

“Who told you that?” I ask with a straight face. “Your mother? Because she doesn’t count.”

Grayson laughs at my comment, shaking his head at me. “Smart ass.”

“I try,” I reply, taking a sip of water.

He tilts his head to the side. “You never answered my question.”

“What question was that?” I ask.

“Are you single?”

“Why do you want to know?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes.

“I want to know if there’s any competition I should be aware of,” he replies, straight-faced.

I roll my eyes. “I’m single.”

“How single?” he asks, now grinning.

“Very single. But I’m also not looking for a relationship,” I tell him honestly.

He studies me. “I can work with that. Casual hook-ups work for me too.”

I throw my bottle of water at his head, and he bursts out laughing. Asshole.

“This,” I say, pointing between the two of us, “is as close as you’re getting to me, buddy.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asks, a playful glint in his dark eyes.

Men and their challenges. “No, no challenge,” I quickly backtrack.

“Challenge accepted,” he says, and then leans forward and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. I shiver at the contact and gape at the fact that he just touched me after what I told him.

“Personal boundaries,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my hand away. He’s about to speak when we’re interrupted.

“Hey, Grayson,” comes a feminine voice. I look up to see two girls standing in front of us, smiling at Grayson, and looking at me, maybe hinting for an introduction and sizing me up at the same time. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I’d prefer to remain anonymous. It’s easier that way, because I don’t want people to recognise me or to find out where I work. It seems that Grayson is becoming the exception.

One of the girls has dark brown hair and eyes and is staring at Grayson. She is dressed in classy designer clothes, not showing too much skin. The blond girl, who is the one that spoke, is slim and tall, with blue eyes and freckles splattered across her nose. I look at Grayson out of the corner of my eye as he stares up at the two intruders, his expression impassive.

He sighs. “Paris, this is my sister, Leah,” he says, nodding toward the brunette. “And that is her friend, Andrea.”

“Hello,” Leah says, giving me a genuine smile. “We’re going to see Dylan. You coming?” she asks.

He bites his top lip. “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes,” he says.

“Okay, nice to meet you, Paris,” Leah says, grabbing her friend’s arm and walking away.

He looks right at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to ask questions. But he doesn’t owe me any answers. We just met, so why would I even care?

“I have to go, but I’ll see you around,” he says, standing up and brushing the grass off his snug jeans. “Save me a seat,” he adds, winking before following his sister. See him around? My plan for today was to keep my head down, study my ass off, and not draw any attention to myself. I sigh, putting the rest of my lunch away, and grabbing my bag.

I’m sure that by tomorrow Grayson will have forgotten all about me.

I’m one of those people who can’t get good grades without studying. I wish I was able to slack off, rock up to my exam, and ace it, but I’m not that lucky or that smart. I close my textbook after two hours of studying. I covered things we didn’t even go over today. Being the first day, it was mainly introduction work, covering the course syllabus. I decided to read up on next week’s work, so I will actually know what’s going on.

“Hey,” Anaya says as she walks in, throwing her bag down on the kitchen floor. “I’m starving.”

“I didn’t see you around today,” I say, tilting my head. Anaya opens the fridge door, and all I can see is her red hair sticking out over the top of the fridge door.

She swings the door shut with a push of her hip, a bottle of water in her hand. “I only had one class, remember? I went to work afterwards.”

Shit. I forgot about that.

“How was your day?” she asks, giving me a curious look.

“It was fine, why?” I ask.

“No reason. I’m going to stay at Paul’s tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time do you have class?” she asks. Paul is Anaya’s current boyfriend. I try to hide my expression, secretly happy she won’t be home tonight. In fact, during the last week, she’s been at Paul’s more often than here, and that works for me just fine.

Perfectly, in fact.

“Just one class tomorrow, at ten,” I tell her.

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ll be home around five; do you want to hang out, watch movies or something?”

I hesitate before nodding. “Sure, sounds good.”

“All right, see you then,” she says, grabbing her bag and leaving our apartment. I make a sandwich and eat that for dinner, along with a crisp green apple.

Then I get dressed for work.

* * *

The next morning, I’m running late for my class. Holding my textbook and file against my chest, I walk as fast as I can, and sit down, sighing in relief that the class didn’t start without me. The lecturer seems to be taking his own cool time going through some papers on his desk.

“I hope this seat isn’t taken?”

I turn my head. “Not at all,” I reply, staring. Looks like Grayson is in my Religion, War, and Terror Unit as well.

He smiles, sitting down in the chair and putting his book on the table. “How are you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and turning his body toward me. He’s wearing a blue and white flannel shirt that looks amazing on him. It stretches over his broad shoulders and toned arms.

“Fine, how are you?” I find myself asking. He just seems so friendly and genuine. Maybe he wouldn’t judge me if he got to know the real me? If only. There are some things that anyone will judge you for, no matter how they may seem upon first impression. He waves hello to a few other people in the class.

“Big night last night?” Grayson asks, his attention back on me.

I freeze. “No, why?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “You have a little…” he trails off, staring.

I wipe my fingers on my lips, coming away with a faint smear of red lipstick. “Oh right, that,” I say, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I thought I had gotten it all off, but I guess I was wrong. I can only hope my eyes don’t have any black around them, from the eyeliner and mascara I had on last night.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, frowning. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it…”

“What if I just decided to wear red lipstick to school today? Your question would have been rude,” I point out.

He frowns. “You’re right; it would have. But I just assumed…”

“You know what they say about people that assume.”

He nods. “I’m sorry I said anything. It was rude, but I was curious about you and—”

I cut him off. “I went out to dinner last night.”

He’s silent for about ten minutes before he starts talking again. “Do you live with your parents?”

“Why? You planning on sneaking into my house?” leaves my mouth before I can stop it. I turn to look at him. He’s staring at me with a cheeky smirk on his gorgeous face.

“Are you flirting with me?” he asks with a straight face, blinking slowly a few times. I can’t help it, I start laughing, causing me to get evil looks from the students sitting around us.

“No, I’m not. And to answer your other question, no I don’t live with my parents.” Because I don’t have any.

“Where do they live?” he asks, leaning his cheek on his palm. He just has to keep pushing, doesn’t he?

“They passed away,” I say, looking away from him and straight ahead.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says quietly. He leans out and touches my shoulder, a silent show of support. I clear my throat and force a shrug.

“It happened a long time ago. I live with my roommate,” I say.

“Will she let me sneak in?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think it’s me you need to win over, Grayson,” I say, winking at him. He laughs then, a deep sound, and I can’t keep my eyes off him as he does it.

“You’re right. Can I have your phone number?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, flashing him a smile and then turning to the front of the room. I can feel his eyes on me, but I pretend to be oblivious.

There is no point denying that something about Grayson has piqued my interest. But now is not the time for me to get involved with anyone.

* * *

“Paris!”

I turn when I hear Grayson’s voice. He’s walking toward me, holding a helmet in one hand. He’s wearing a pair of low slung jeans that I didn’t get to admire in class. I know that under that flannel shirt lies a perfectly muscled body; I can tell that from here. After class ended, I was the first to walk out without looking back. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him again until tomorrow.

“Where’s your car?” he asks, looking around.

“I walked here,” I tell him. I don’t have a car. I was just cutting through the car park.

“Can I give you a ride home?” he asks, looking hopeful. His dark eyes don’t leave mine.

I want to, I do. But I shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I live close by. Besides, I like to walk.”

He bites his bottom lip. “You know I’m just asking so I have an excuse to spend more time with you, right?”

I laugh. “I know. But stranger danger and all that,” I joke. Or at least try to joke.

His face falls a little, and I want to change my mind and say yes, but I don’t. Instead, I smile and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re busy for the rest of the day?” he asks, brows rising. He shifts the helmet. Now he’s holding it in his other hand.

“Yeah, I have a few things I need to do.” Like wash my hair.

“You’re going to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?” he asks, smiling so both of his dimples pop out.

I shift on my feet, and look in the direction of my apartment. “I’m not trying to make anything difficult for anyone.”

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer to me and putting his warm palm on my cheek. He gently turns my head to look at him. “Will you let me take you out sometime? On a date?”

My eyes widen. “A date?”

He gives me a full-blown megawatt smile, and my mouth opens slightly.

“Yes, a date,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip before dropping his hand.

“You’re very… forward,” I mutter under my breath, feeling a little awkward being put on the spot like this. My eyes dart around before landing back on his face.

He licks his lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. And those eyes. I’ve heard the saying ‘smile with your eyes’ before, but I’ve never actually seen someone smile with their eyes until now. The way he’s looking at me… I bite the inside of my cheek.

“When I want something, I tend to go for it,” he says, patiently waiting for me to reply.

Of course he does. “Look, Grayson—” I start, but he interrupts.

“You don’t have to answer now,” he says, smiling down at me. He leans forward and says quietly, “I’m a very patient man.”