Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

“Adore you,” he says to me before he puts me down. I walk into the bathroom, strip down, and jump in the shower. Grayson comes in seconds later, and shows me just how much he adores me.

“When are you going to move in with me?” Grayson asks. It’s been a week since we returned from Sydney, and our relationship is stronger than ever. We aren’t perfect, of course, and we’re learning a lot as we go along, but we’re in it together. For the long run.

“Is that your way of asking me if I want to move in with you? Or telling me?”

He stares at the ceiling, lying on his back on his bed. “You’re practically here every day. And I love that. I want you to move in permanently,” he says, lifting his head to look at me.

“Don’t you think we’re moving a bit fast?” my head makes me ask. My heart knows what it wants to do. It wants me to go home, pack my shit up, and move in this very second.

He sits up fully. “Are you doubting us?” he asks, his voice low and worried.

“No, it’s not that,” I tell him, crawling onto the bed. “I just don’t want us to regret anything.”

“Paris,” he says. “Stop over thinking it, and just move in. Please.” It’s the please that gets me.

“Okay,” I say, my hand touching his cheek. The stubble there prickles my fingers. “Let’s do it. I’ll have to tell Anaya so she can get a new roomie.”

“I’ll sort it out,” he says, his eyes roaming my face. “You’ve made me a happy man.”

“I’m putting in money for rent, bills, and food, and that’s non-negotiable,” I tell him, my serious expression letting him know I mean business.

“I own the house; there is no rent. And I pay the bills. If you want to buy whatever for the house, then go ahead, but I’d rather you save your money,” he says, crossing his arms behind his head and studying me.

“You own this house?” I ask, eyes flaring.

“Babe, keep up,” he says, dimples flashing.

“I love your dimples,” I blurt out, staring at them.

His smile widens, his eyes crinkling. “I know you do. They’re like my secret weapon.”

“Really? I’d have thought your secret weapon would be further south,” I tease, my eyes darting to his crotch and back.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents,” he brags, eyes twinkling.

I scoff, shaking my head. “That ego of yours…”

“I can refresh your memory if you’re in doubt,” he says, reaching out for me. I move back, out of his reach. “Playing hard to get, are we? Or maybe you want to be chased?”

I narrow my eyes on him, going deadly still. Then I jump off the bed and run as fast as I can. I only make it to the kitchen before he grabs me, and throws me over his shoulder caveman style. I pinch his ass, squirming. “I have short legs! That wasn’t fair!” I squeal.

“You don’t have short legs,” he replies, chuckling.

“Compared to you I do!” I grumble.

“Oomph,” comes out of my mouth as I’m dumped on the bed. “You jerk!”

He pins me to the bed, his shoulder shaking as he laughs at me. Asshole.

“I’m not moving in now,” I tell him, poking my tongue out.

He stops laughing. “A bit late to change your mind,” he says. He grabs his phone and types out a text, still pinning me with his weight.

“Who are you messaging?” I ask, trying to see the screen.

“Anaya. Told her you’re moving out. I’ll pay your rent until she finds another roommate.”

“You overbearing, egoistical—” He cuts off my rant with his mouth.

I move into this house the next week.

* * *

I yawn and walk to the front door wearing my leopard-print shorts and a white singlet top. I’m about to open it when I remember I’m not even wearing a bra. I eye the hall that leads back to my room, then the front door. Fuck it. I open the door and come face to face with Dylan.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, scowling at her.

She smiles unpleasantly. “Is Grayson here?” she asks, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other.

“Yeah, can you hold on a second?” I ask her, not waiting for her reply. I storm back into our bedroom and stare down at a sleeping Grayson.

“Gray,” I say, shaking his shoulder. His eyes open, and then a smile forms on his lips. “Dylan’s here.” That gets his attention.

“Dylan?” he asks, brows drawing together. “What the fuck?”

“She’s at the door,” I say, shrugging. I have no idea what’s going on, or why she’s here. He gets out of bed and throws on a pair of jeans. “And a shirt.”

He stops at the door, turns back and grabs a white t-shirt, sliding it over his head. I follow him as he walks to the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her. Instead of answering, she runs to him, and wraps her arms around him. He stiffens, shooting me an apologetic look.

“I had a fight with Dad. I have nowhere else to go, so I was hoping I could stay here. You always said if I needed a place to crash…”

I see him mouth the word fuck. “That was before, Dylan, and you know it. Paris lives with me now, so I’m going to have to retract that offer.”

I tap my foot, watching the scene unfold. “You’re going to turn me away because of her?”

“Yes,” Grayson says. “I love her. You need to find somewhere else to stay if you’re having issues with your parents.”

She takes a step back from him and turns her head to stare at me. “I have nowhere else to go. I thought I could always crash here if I needed to, because that’s what you told me!”

“Go stay at Leah’s, or my parents then,” Grayson says, looking frustrated. He keeps sending me little worried glances.

“She knows we’ve fucked before, Grayson. I was your first after all,” she says, looking at me as she says it. Riiiigghhht. Well, I’m fucking done. As I turn away, I hear Grayson calling out my name. I ignore him and go back into our room and flop on the bed. It’s always something, isn’t it? I rub my forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. I can hear Grayson and her arguing at the front door, but I try to block them out. She was his first? I don’t want to be jealous, I don’t. It doesn’t change the fact that I am.

He enters the room a few minutes later, his face drawn, and his head down. “I’m so sorry she came here, babe. Please don’t be mad. I told her she can’t stay here.” He moves closer to me. “She’s just starting shit. Don’t let her win,” he says, sitting next to me and putting his hand on my hip.

“She’s such a bitch,” I growl.

Grayson exhales, looking down at me. “I know. She just wanted to hurt you. Fuck her.”

“Well, she succeeded,” I say.

“Paris…”

“She was your first! She will always have that piece of you. I get it—I do. I don’t have to like having it shoved in my face, though,” I say, getting up and heading to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me and lean against it. Sliding down to the floor, I sit there. Thinking. He knocks a few times and gently says my name. He pleads with me. I ignore him. I start to feel a little nauseous after a while. Grayson must still be on the other side of the door, because when I start to throw up, the knocks get louder.

“Open the door, Paris!” he growls.

“I’m fine!” I call out.

“No, you’re not. Please just open the door!”

I have a quick shower, brush my teeth then exit the bathroom. Grayson is sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. He looks up as soon as he hears me. “Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” I say, ignoring his worried stares. I do math in my head. When was my last period? Did I skip any pills? Sometimes, I would forget one day, but take two the next day to make up for it. I was told that was okay by London, and she should know! I look at the time and curse. "I need to get to class.” And then I have a shift at work.

“Can we talk before you leave?” he asks, standing up.

“No, I don’t feel like talking right now,” I say, getting dressed in jeans and an off the shoulder black top.

“Don’t do this...”

“We can talk later tonight, okay? I just want to have some time right now,” I explain.

He agrees but doesn’t look too happy about it.

“What’s up your butt?” London asks, looking concerned.

“What’s with you and butts?” I ask dryly, throwing some of the empty beer bottles in the recycling bin.

“Don’t change the subject,” she says.

“Fine,” I huff. “Grayson and I had a fight. And then I threw up. And my period is late.”

Her blue eyes widen almost hysterically. “Information overload. Let’s go with the biggest shocker—pregnant?”

“I don’t know for sure,” I sigh, plopping down on one of the stools. The place is dead.

“I’m going to be an aunty? I’m too young to be an aunty!” she says dramatically.

“How did I know you were going to make this about you?” I ask her, rolling my eyes.

She ignores my comment. “Did you tell Grayson?”

“No, there’s no point saying anything until I know,” I say, laying my forehead against the cool bar counter.

“The fact that you’re stressing about it… He should be right there with you, sis. What did you guys fight over?” she asks, blowing a bubble with her chewing gum.

“His ex-girlfriend showed up at the house. I got jealous and upset,” I say. “You can imagine the rest.” Aiden walks out and sees me lying face down on his bar, feeling sorry for myself.

“What’s wrong, Paris?” he asks, immediately coming over to me. “What did you do now, London?” he asks, his tone laced with humour.

“Me! I did nothing. Trust me, I don’t have the equipment for it,” she says. I lift my head up and look at him.

“I don’t think you want to know, trust me.”

“Try me,” he says, taking the seat next to me.

“Fought with Gray. Threw up. Didn’t get my period this month,” I say, summing it all up once more.

He’s silent for a moment. “We’ll get through it, whatever it is.”

I put my hand on my stomach. “A stripper getting pregnant at my age—I’m a walking stereotype!”

“You don’t know for sure,” London pipes in. “Plus girls get pregnant much younger than that nowadays. Trust me”

I shoot her a look. “Not helping, London.”

“We’ll get a test on the way home. How about that?” she says.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile.

“What’s family for, right? To be with you when you do stupid shit!” Her comment should make me angry, instead I start laughing. It’s one of those moments. The ones where you can either laugh or cry.

I choose to laugh.

* * *

“How do you pee on this without getting pee on your hand?” London asks, staring at the pregnancy test. We stopped at her house to do it, and I feel more relaxed than I would be at home. Probably because Grayson would be banging on the door and asking what’s wrong.

“Do you want to try one and see?” I ask her, biting my lip at the confused look on her face.

“Hurry up and do it. I’m dying here.”

“Get out. I’m not peeing in front of you,” I say, pushing her out of the door.

“Fine,” she pouts. I close the door and do my business. I walk out holding the stick, put it on the table and wash my hand. We stare at each other silently for a few moments, each of us looking down at the test but not studying it.

“Time yet?” she asks. I nod. We both lean our heads down at the same time, staring at the two pink lines on the test. Shit.

“Fuck your life,” I hear London mutter under her breath.

“Thanks for the support,” I snap, glaring at her. My phone starts ringing. Grayson.

“Good song choice,” London muses at my Katy Perry ringtone.

“Pay attention!” I growl. Instead, she starts singing the damn song. The phone rings out so I quickly send Grayson a message so he doesn’t worry.

With London, be home in ten mins. XxX

“What do I do?” I ask. “I’m going to do another test, see if it says the same thing.” I hear London mutter something about denial, but ignore her. I then realise I don’t need to pee anymore so I’ll have to wait. “Can you drop me home now?” I ask.

“Yeah, no problem,” she says, grabbing her keys. We open the front door to leave, when I see Grayson himself standing out the front leaning against the wall.

“Guess you won’t need that ride after all,” she says, kissing me on the cheek, waving to Grayson before walking inside and closing the door.