The Resident Badboy

Chapter 17 • Don't Matter

           "If I throw a stick, will you leave?" I ask as soon as I swing open the door.

           Standing in front of me is a distressed-looking bad boy, gone is his strong demeanour and bad boy aura. He quickly grabs me by the shoulder and studies my face at an arms length. He then proceeds checking behind me for someone or something over my head. I don't think he's looking for Luke.

           "Are you okay?" he asks, without even a proper greeting. Not that I'm expecting one given that I've said an unpleasant greeting seconds ago.

           I furrow my brows at him. He is grabbing my shoulders tighter and making my level of confusion spike higher. "Are you?"

           "Did someone come here?" he asks again, ignoring my face, who for the record is morphed into a facial expression for nth time Grayson is around.

           I gently pry his hands off of me and let them fall back to his side. His eyes are set on mine again and I can see how fucking stress they are. What's got into him and he looks so deterred than ever?

           "Are you on something, Levy?" Because I swear to god, I can slap the influence off of him. I hate being the subject of a drunk call or a drunk test and most especially, a drug-induced stupidity.

           Grayson shakes his head as he closes his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a fair few solid seconds before turning back to me. Is that his way of levelling down his stress? It's not working. He still looks very un-like hime.

           "Just answer me, Harley, please," he begs, his hand coming to my cheek and I jerk back in reflex. He notices my reaction so he turns down his own hand. "Did someone come here?"

           "Uhm, apart from Luke no one did," and then the thought of Geoff appears on my mind but I quickly bite my tongue, preventing myself from singing.

           He sighs in relief, his shoulders are sagging and finally, I can sense he's getting calm. Both his hands fly to my face again and this time, I let him cup my cheeks. The warmth of his palms spreading on my entire skin, sending unwanted tingles down my spine. Is feeling something good out of this a sin?

           "What's going on, Grayson?" I ask, not being able to fight the urge to not ask.

           He twists his head to the side and his eyes land on the seat on our front porch. He makes his way towards it and settles himself. I study him warily, looking for answers with the way he's behaving but I couldn't just put a finger on why he's being so... mysterious. Grayson tilts his chin up, removing his eyes from the floor and with his two fingers, he signals me to come closer to him. And guess what, I freaking did.

           I sit beside him and he watched me from the time I took a step towards him until I'm finally settled. Surprisingly, I didn't feel awkward at all.

           "You better start talking, Grayson," I say when he's not opening his mouth and all he's doing is looking at me like I've grown a third head.

           Grayson sighs and then he tears his eyes off me and stare at a distance. "We need to talk. I need to tell you something and I can't wa——"

           My front door bursts open revealing Luke who's glaring hard at Grayson. I narrow my eyes at him in annoyance.

           When he told me that Grayson's here and wants to talk to me, I can sense how rattled he is with the bad boy's presence. I try diving deeper into his eyes to see what's in him and why he's sharing the same unusual reaction with the three idiots when Grayson's around but I just cannot fathom anything. Now he's here, stopping any word that could come out of Grayson's mouth.