Grey 2 (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Five

Song recommended for chapter: Bad Liar by Selena Gomez

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"Am I a terrible person, Mas'?" I ask as we stroll down the beach. The sounds of summer wrap around me, like a cocoon: The soft waves pushing up the sand, children screaming and their mothers yelling after them, and tropical music somewhere in the distance. I tuck my unruly hair behind my ears and cross my arms over my chest, eyeing the ice cream stand we're passing. It's strikingly hot, maybe a cold ice-cream will help? I can practically taste the creaminess mixed with the natural salt from the warm air on my tongue.

My pocket buzzes, and I hold in a groan and switch it off. I don't want my mother telling me exactly why I'm terrible.

"What? No, of course not." He tugs me over to the stand, probably noticing my hungry gaze. As we join the semi-long, he looks at me with a confused expression. "Why would you ask something like that?"

We move up a bit.

I stare long and hard at the sand. I don't know if I should tell him about Grey and Rose, because I'm partially embarrassed and partially scared, because then it'd mean that it's real. That the man I loved is with his sister and is flaunting it around every chance he gets. Maybe I can just deal with it by myself. Maybe I won't see them around anymore; I could hang around the parts I know for a fact he wouldn't even go near. Like the country club... scratch that, not that place. I despise it. Everyone who stays there are snotty rich people who torment the workers. I shouldn't even be talking though, I am forced to go there when my mother feels she hasn't shown off her glamorous pearls and radiant (back on her leash) daughter.

"Liv?" he bumps his shoulder into mine, drawing me back into reality. "Tell me what's wrong." He sounds sincerely concerned, and it is enough to settle whatever silly idea that I could possibly hide something this big from my best friend.

So, I suck in a deep breath and say, "Grey's here... with your sister, with Rose." I look at him, and a tinge of me wonders if he knows already.

But the look on his face tells me he doesn't. Of course he doesn't know. If he did he would have told me before I could get blindsided.

"Seriously?" he gasps, brown eyes bulging out of their sockets.

I nod, holding back the need to have a breakdown in public. I'd probably end up on the internet as the girl who lost her shit due to her ex-boyfriend's sudden pop-up, such a sensitive snake. Instead of being laughed at, I hold it in and give him a small smile that doesn't even try to reach my eyes. But it's not like he expects me to be grinning from ear to ear like I won every lottery across the country; that'd just be weird.

We move up in the line and order our ice-cream cones, mine french vanilla with sprinkles, his plain fudge. After thanking the sweet girl with freckles, we continue leisurely walking down the beach. I lick the rainbow-covered cream and fall back into my thoughts. Which is the last thing I want to do, because it's pitch dark and guilt and regret and overall pain in there. I try not to delve in there too much. But I fall back in the rabbit-sized hole anyways.