His Sweet Revenge

Chapter 13.

"Fuck you!" Grayson yells as he pushes James in the chest. A few guys get up from the couch at the sudden outburst. It really came out of nowhere. One moment he was sitting across the room; the next, he was here and angry.

"I've been waiting to fuck you up, Wallace," James says before going at Grayson. He punches him, his fist coming down straight onto Grayson's jaw. The crowd reacts to that. I take a few reasonable steps back.

Grayson recovers quickly and grabs James by his shirt, slamming him into the wall.

James smirks, breathing fast as he's pinned to the wall by Grayson's arm. "You may have grown up and gotten stronger, but inside, you're still that pathetic little fuck. And you always will be."

"Stay the fuck away from her," Grayson says, and I notice the slight slur in his voice. It's barely there, but it's there. No one is watching the football game anymore, and the guys keep hesitating, trying to decide whether or not they should step in.

"Or what, Wallace? What are you going to do?"

The interaction between them feels odd. James said Grayson didn't like him for some reason, but this doesn't look like that. They share some kind of history, that's for sure.

Grayson lets go of James with another rough shove, and it seems like the fight, or whatever that was, is over. Half the crowd turns their attention back to the screen as Grayson walks towards me, grabbing me by my arm and pushing me out of the room.

I stay silent as we exit the house. A light drizzle welcomes us. I'm trying to keep up with Grayson's long strides as he pulls me along the driveway.

We stop in front of the bike. Grayson pulls the extra helmet from a peg on the side and hands it to me before he gets on, kicking the side stand up.

I stand there and watch him, the helmet in my hands.

He sighs as if I'm being annoying or something. "Get on the bike."

"I'm not getting on that with you. You're drunk."

He laughs slightly. "I'm not drunk. Seeing you with him sobered me up real good."

I shift on my feet, unsure of what to do as the rain starts falling faster.

"Layla, I had one beer. Get on."

He sees me hesitating, pulling the helmet out of my hands and pushing it down on my head. Then he slips his own helmet on.

"Whose bike is this?" I ask, getting on with my hands on Grayson's shoulders for support.

He waits for me to sit before he answers. "Kade's." I feel his hands on my wrists as he pulls my arms forward, forcing them to wrap around his stomach, my chest flat on his back. I keep my hands there as he starts the motorcycle, the engine coming to life.

"Hold on," he yells back at me over the noise before he takes off. I immediately squeeze his body as he increases the speed. We drive for a while, and whenever we turn, or Grayson speeds up, I hold him tighter. The rain is pouring down on us, so Grayson stops in front of a cafe.

We practically sprint inside to avoid the downpour. The barista at the front greats us. I'm shivering as I slip into a table.

"Do you want something to drink?" He asks me, those eyes finding mine.

"Hot chocolate," I say. Grayson nods and walks off to order. The cute barista laughs and makes conversation with him, talking about the rain, and I feel my stomach involuntarily tighten.

Grayson returns to the table and hands me my hot chocolate as he sips from his cup. I suspect he's drinking coffee, but I don't ask.

"Were you trying to give me the Heimlich back there?" He asks as a small smirk slides over his face. I roll my eyes.