Taming the Street Racer ✔️

27 | darkness

TW - sexual assault, self-hating thoughts

♔     ♕     ♔

We sit like that for a while, concentrating on each others' breathing. The constant rhythm of his chest moving against my back is soothing, while I'm pretty sure he's listening to make sure I'm okay. Really, I've been more than okay for several moments, but I want to stay under the comforting weight of his arms for as long as possible.

"Does that happen to you often?" Gray finally asks. All of a sudden, the room suddenly feels colder again and I'm itching to leave. I don't think I can do this right now.

My silence seems to be answer enough, and he doesn't press me any further. If anything, this only makes me feel worse; I'm such a hypocrite.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, and I want more than anything to tell him about the night that even Violet and Peyton haven't heard about. But there's an emotional wall inside me, and my throat threatens to tighten all over again. Just thinking about breaking down that wall makes me feel like I'm being pulled underwater

Instead, I say, "Are you hungry? We should probably get breakfast before we leave."

I'm actually not hungry at all; my breakdown destroyed any appetite I'd had. I can tell this isn't the answer he wanted to hear, but he agrees anyway. We both slowly stand up, unsure of how to tread these new waters. The world seems to have been flipped upside down, and both of us have been thrown off our centers.

I can't help but feel that this is all my fault; we were making progress before I flipped out.

When I start walking toward my bag on the floor, Gray's hand catches my arm and he slowly turns me toward him. I let him, thinking he's going to kiss me. But he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his hand to my cheek and looks at me thoughtfully, as if trying to puzzle me together. His intense eyes make me feel insanely vulnerable, and for a moment, I consider word-vomiting everything right then and there.

But I don't say anything, just scanning his strong features, now dotted with concern, and wishing neither of us had these mental barriers.

"You're so beautiful," he says, almost just to himself. "Yet so mystifying."

I could say the same about him. Instead, I turn and get a change of clothes from my bag. We're both silent as we freshen up and get changed. In a matter of ten minutes, we're packed and ready to leave this high-class heaven.

Amid the silence of the elevator ride down, Gray finds and holds my hand with his, a silent assurance that we're okay. It's hard to feel that way when we encounter a new problem at every turn.

In a small cafe connected to the lobby, Gray and I order breakfast sandwiches and coffee. I insist on paying for my own overpriced breakfast, already feeling guilty for making him see me in my earlier state, but he's even more insistent, pressing cash into the cashier's hand before I can even get my wallet out. I act deflated, but my heart warms at the small gesture.

I also take note of the doe-eyed cashier. Although she looks well into her thirties, that doesn't stop her from holding eye-contact with Grayson for several seconds and deliberately grazing her hand against his.

After we sit down at a corner booth, Grayson finishes his food lightning fast, then resolves to study me while I savor my own meal.

"Do you chew every bite at least one hundred times?" He asks, raising his perfectlly-arched eyebrow.

I take a very slow sip of my coffee, making sure to hold it in my mouth for a few seconds just to pull his leg. "Do you always watch girls' mouths while they eat?"