Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

Luckily, he said he liked me enough to allow me to pay him back in instalments. Apparently, it pays to be nice to one of your sister’s many men. The debt started out at twenty thousand dollars, and is now down to ten. Half to go. I should feel proud of myself, but I don’t. I just feel tired, and I want everything over and done with.

I strut toward the private dance booth, hating this part of the night. It sucks that it’s also the part where I make the most money. “Hypnotize” by Gemini plays as I dance for a gentleman dressed in a suit. He probably came here straight after work. I step closer to him, pulling down the straps of my baby doll dress. He pulls me closer, trying to get me to straddle him. “No touching,” I tell him, my tone sharp.

“Oh, come on, I’ll make it worth your while,” he slurs, his eyes staring at my breasts greedily.

It doesn’t matter how much he offers me, I won’t be crossing this line. I shake my head. “No touching,” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender, and then tells me to turn around and continue dancing. I do as I’m told, hating every second of it. Finally, the song ends, and I exhale in relief. However, as he stands up he pushes me up against the wall, his hardness rubbing against my ass. “That’s it,” he croons. I elbow him in the stomach, and then stick my head out of the door, signalling the bouncer on duty. He quickly comes in, and I tell him what happened. He grabs the man and escorts him out. I lean back against the wall, breathing heavily, my pulse racing.

Yeah, I can’t wait until I can turn my back on Snow forever.

* * *

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Grayson asks from next to me, sounding exasperated. I’m sitting at my lunch spot. It’s been a week since we last spoke properly, and not from his lack of trying. He sent me three bouquets of flowers, stopped by my house with food, and walked me home after classes. I haven’t said more than a few lines to him in all that time, mainly ‘no thanks’ and ‘why are you still here?’ He’s really making this hard. I’ve wanted to forgive him on many occasions, but for some reason I’m not willing to let him in. It’s easier in the long run if we end this—whatever it is we had. I shrug at his question and stare straight ahead. “How long do you expect me to chase after you, Paris?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“So you don’t care if I go out with another woman?” he asks, his voice a little strained. The thought physically hurts, but I don’t show him any weakness. If he wants to do that then go ahead. That means he wasn’t meant for me anyway.

“You can do what you want, Grayson,” I say without emotion.

He curses. “All this because I went away for a few days without telling you? Do I have to report to you or something?” he snaps.

Wow. Taken aback, I turn to look at him. “That’s not it, and you know it,” I grit, my jaw clenched. “But if you’re going to be an asshole, then please just leave.”

“Well, you won’t let me talk to you about it, so I can’t even explain,” he says, looking frustrated. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but feel like he has a guilty air about him. Am I going crazy? I don’t want to turn into one of those women who questions everything their man does because deep down they know that they can’t trust him. Yeah—that’s never going to be me.

“Paris, I’m sorry,” he says, his dark brown eyes pleading. My gaze lowers to his mouth. I haven’t seen his dimples since the night we almost made love. I miss them—like fucking crazy.

“Okay, I’m listening,” I say, looking directly at him.

His shoulders drop as he sighs. “After what happened with us… Look, I want you. More than anything. There’s something about you, we just… fit. I had to go away last minute with my dad on business, and I thought I’d take that time to gather my thoughts. I know I should have told you, but I was confused and...” he trails off, searching for words. “Will you give me another chance?”

After a few tense moments of silence, I speak. “You were confused? What about exactly?” I ask. If he thinks he’s going to get away with some evasive half-assed apology, he has another thing coming.

His eyes dart away, and his hand runs over his head. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone before,” he says after a few tense moments. “I’m at a loss, Paris. I don’t want to make a mess of things, but that’s all I seem to be able to do.”

I exhale deeply, watching him as he keeps his head down.

“I’m not perfect,” he says.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” I mutter. And I don’t. I’d appreciate some honesty though. I cringe at the thought. How hypocritical of me. What the hell am I doing here? This whole thing is one huge clusterfuck. I stand up and clear my throat so he looks at me.

“I have to go,” I say. I hate seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, his head going down again. I sigh, but force my feet to move. I need to get away from him, because now he’s not the only one who’s confused.

* * *

Anaya greets me at the door as I return from work that night. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” I ask her as I close the door behind me.

“It’s late,” she says, her eyes filled with worry. I slide my phone out of my bra and look at the time. Three in the morning. I had to stay back a little later tonight, because the club was packed.

“Yeah, we had a busy night so I had to stay back late,” I tell her. I walk into my room, and she follows me, trailing behind.

“What’s the name of the bar you work at again?” she asks. I still, then turn to look at her.

“Why?” I ask her.

“I’m curious,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Fuck, I don’t want to lie to her. She’s pretty much my only friend in this town. I sit down on my bed and pat the space next to me. She sits down, and I cringe as I realise I’m going to tell her the truth.

“I know you haven’t been telling me the truth, Paris,” she starts.

“I work at Toxic,” I tell her. “It’s in the city on William Street.”

She plays with the ends of her red hair, thinking. Then she freezes and lifts her wide eyes to me. “Toxic? As in…”

I nod, swallowing hard. Unable to hold eye contact with her, I glance around my room, looking for a distraction.

“Wow,” she says. She clears her throat after a few seconds of silence, and then turns to look at me. “You’re a stripper?”

I grit my teeth, hide my shame, and nod once.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” she mutters under her breath. I can’t help it; choked laughter escapes at her comment. She shakes her head at me and gives me a lopsided smile. “Maybe you could teach me some dance moves sometime?” she asks quietly, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

“Maybe,” I reply. She grins.

We spend the rest of the night talking about it.

It’s then I know that everything between us is going to be all right.

After telling Anaya the truth, I’m feeling lighter than ever. It’s been a few days since we had our deep and meaningful conversation. We also spoke about Grayson. The man himself walks into class just as I’m thinking about him. He looks at where I’m sitting straight away and walks in my direction. Sitting down in his usual seat, he gives me a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Did you finish the assignment?”

I raise an eyebrow. I’ve seen him twice since our last conversation, and each time our short words have been stilted and apologetic. Not to mention awkward.

“Of course I did,” I reply, appreciating the generic question.

He chuckles. “I bet you will ace it too.”

“Did you finish it?” I ask.

“Kind of,” he says, shrugging sheepishly.

I gape. “What do you mean kind of? This makes up for ten percent of our grade!”

He cringes, and then picks up his pen and flicks it between his fingers. “I know. I’ve been a little… distracted,” he says, not looking at me. He looks down and his dark hair falls on his face, covering his eyes from my sight.

“Haven’t we all,” I say under my breath. The lecturer starts talking, interrupting our conversation. I sigh, throwing one last look at Grayson before staring straight ahead.

Grayson trails behind me when class is over. When we walk out to the car park, he reaches out and gently takes my wrist. “I miss you,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my pulse.

“I miss you too,” I admit quietly. I unconsciously step closer, inhaling his scent. He always smells so damn good.

“Have you ever done something you wish you could take back, more than anything, but you can’t? So all you can do is feel sorry for yourself knowing that you, yourself, are the cause of your own misery?”

I take a sharp breath at his words. I nod at him, our eyes connected.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, when I remain silent. Can I? Can I really judge him when I’ve been hiding something too? If I choose to give this another chance, I need to tell him. Come clean. Hopefully, he will still want me, and we can start over. A clean slate.

“Why did you leave without telling me? Be honest,” I say.

He swallows audibly. “I fucked everything up between us. I thought maybe it would be best if we both moved on from each other. While I was away from you though, I just missed you. You. Your laugh, your smile, your smell. Everything about you, Paris. And I realised something; there is no escaping what’s between us. There is only fixing, because I refuse to let you go.”

“I still don’t understand, Grayson.”

“I’m never going to forgive myself for ruining your first time, but I promise you, I will make it up to you,” he says.

“I suppose I did miss your cooking.” So much for me not giving in. I know I shouldn’t, but I want to. I want him. I guess I’m just a sucker for punishment.

I’m gifted with a slow spreading smile. “I’ll be happy to cook for you tonight, and maybe we could talk.”

“Maybe,” I say softly, feeling lighter.

I get on the back of Grayson’s bike, and we go to his house. Wrapping my arms around him the entire time, feeling the ridges of his abs and my front pressed tight to his back, I don’t for one second regret my decision. It feels so good to have my arms around him again. We walk into his house, and he pulls out a chair for me to sit down on.

Grayson searches the fridge for something to make. “How about toasted sandwiches?” he asks as he scans the lack of groceries.

I hide my grin. “Sounds good to me.”

“I could order something,” he says, glancing over at me.

“Sandwiches are fine,” I tell him, watching as he pulls out the cheese and ham. He makes them quickly and brings them to the table with some orange juice.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says, his eyes dancing. “I’m turning into a master chef, aren’t I?”

I take a bite. “I don’t know. I don’t think you should quit your day job just yet.”

He smiles, dimples and all. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After we finish eating, we sit together in the lounge room. A movie plays on the TV, but I’m not paying it any attention. My eyes are solely on Grayson, and his are on me. I swallow hard at the intensity of his gaze, and when he licks his top lip, I can’t help the noise that comes out of my throat.

“You feel it too …” he says so softly, running his hands up and down my thigh. I feel it? I sure feel something right now.

“Grayson--”

“I messed up, but now you’re going to forgive me. We’re too good together for the alternative,” he says, and I gape at his commanding tone. Who does he think he is?

My eyes narrow. “I will forgive you, if and when I decide to.”

He chuckles, actually chuckles. “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

I’m glad he feels that way, because by the looks of things, I’m going to be pissed off a lot when I’m around him. I open my mouth to tell him exactly that when he leans forward and kisses me. He’s playing dirty. There is no way I can resist him, not when he’s right; there is something here between us. Something that draws us to each other. Something worth the gamble.

He pulls back from the kiss, leaving me wanting more. “Let me do it right this time, please.”

My dazed mind takes a few seconds to realise what he said, and by then he’s standing by the couch and picking me up into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as he carries me into his room, dipping me onto the bed and returning his lips to mine.