🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.53.

Whatever personal business that Gray was dealing with, no one could get ahold of him. I tried texting a few times to see if he was alright, but I got absolutely nothing.

I called him the day after that, but it went straight to voicemail after a few rings. 

'Can't talk right now.' Gray's texts were short and full of ambiguity. 'Something came up. Call you later.' 

He didn't call back. 

Elijah, on the other hand, phoned that week and left a late-night message on my phone, slurring his words like he was a raving drunk.

First, he declared his everlasting love while dubbing me a ruthless bitch for talking to the cops. Then, he begged me to come back and help him find his Ralph Lauren sweater. He also repeated his menacing promise about Gray's access (whatever the hell that meant).

My life felt like a neverending series of messy events. 

Elijah's abusive behavior was a terrifying new chapter in our tragically dramatic breakup story. 

Braxton's ongoing campaign to discredit me with my coworkers was disgustingly misogynistic (not to mention, dumb as all hell). 

And worst of all, Gray's sudden silence after one of the worst nights I'd ever experienced was knotting my guts into a slithering mess of bile and bitterness.

Sleep was a distant memory, along with focus and general social engagement. 

As much as I didn't want to admit it, I missed Gray, too. Desperately. 

I missed his tender kisses and the firm, but oh so gentle grip of his fingers on my hips. I missed his spicey scent and the way his tongue tasted like mint and dark chocolate. I missed his steady presence and his sensitive eyes that could reach down to my core.

On Thursday Rebecca texted Gray to ask if his dinner part was still happening, and he answered her! 

I was sitting next to her on the couch when the single-word message came through, 'Yes.' 

The fact that he was texting other people, but not me, simultaneously riled me up and crushed me under a boulder of uncertainty.

I know that I pushed him away the night I came back from Elijah's, and I was the one to slip out the door the next morning with barely a kiss goodbye. If Gray interpreted that as a rejection, well, there was nothing I could do. 

I'd just spent the evening filing a police report on my shitty ex-boyfriend, who punched my lights out and tried to choke me in a fit of terrifying rage. I couldn't help it if I was a little standoffish after what I'd just gone through.

Still, Gray's mystery blonde caller and his abrupt disappearance felt like salt being rubbed in a fresh wound. 

I was mad at him, and I missed him (while feeling like an utter fool).

By Friday morning I was so frustrated, and confused, and anxious about where I stood with Gray that I decided I needed an early morning run to clear my head. 

Since it was roughly a quarter past four in the morning it was still dark out and my gym wasn't open, so I opted for a street run.

I quickly bundled myself up in enough neon spandex and fleece to look like a human highlighter. 

My nose stung and my breath came out in tiny puffs of frozen air as my feet the pavement. 

The sparse streetlamps by our apartment made it a little risky to be out and running, so I stuck to the main roads.