“I have to go,” I say. I hate seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, his head going down again. I sigh, but force my feet to move. I need to get away from him, because now he’s not the only one who’s confused.

Anaya greets me at the door as I return from work that night. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” I ask her as I close the door behind me.

“It’s late,” she says, her eyes filled with worry. I slide my phone out of my bra and look at the time. Three in the morning. I had to stay back a little later tonight, because the club was packed.

“Yeah, we had a busy night so I had to stay back late,” I tell her. I walk into my room, and she follows me, trailing behind.

“What’s the name of the bar you work at again?” she asks. I still, then turn to look at her.

“Why?” I ask her.

“I’m curious,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Fuck, I don’t want to lie to her. She’s pretty much my only friend in this town. I sit down on my bed and pat the space next to me. She sits down, and I cringe as I realise I’m going to tell her the truth.

“I know you haven’t been telling me the truth, Paris,” she starts.

“I work at Toxic,” I tell her. “It’s in the city on William Street.”

She plays with the ends of her red hair, thinking. Then she freezes and lifts her wide eyes to me. “Toxic? As in…”

I nod, swallowing hard. Unable to hold eye contact with her, I glance around my room, looking for a distraction.

“Wow,” she says. She clears her throat after a few seconds of silence, and then turns to look at me. “You’re a stripper?”

I grit my teeth, hide my shame, and nod once.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” she mutters under her breath. I can’t help it; choked laughter escapes at her comment. She shakes her head at me and gives me a lopsided smile. “Maybe you could teach me some dance moves sometime?” she asks quietly, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

“Maybe,” I reply. She grins.

We spend the rest of the night talking about it.

It’s then I know that everything between us is going to be all right.

After telling Anaya the truth, I’m feeling lighter than ever. It’s been a few days since we had our deep and meaningful conversation. We also spoke about Grayson. The man himself walks into class just as I’m thinking about him. He looks at where I’m sitting straight away and walks in my direction. Sitting down in his usual seat, he gives me a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Did you finish the assignment?”

I raise an eyebrow. I’ve seen him twice since our last conversation, and each time our short words have been stilted and apologetic. Not to mention awkward.

“Of course I did,” I reply, appreciating the generic question.

He chuckles. “I bet you will ace it too.”

“Did you finish it?” I ask.

“Kind of,” he says, shrugging sheepishly.

I gape. “What do you mean kind of? This makes up for ten percent of our grade!”

He cringes, and then picks up his pen and flicks it between his fingers. “I know. I’ve been a little… distracted,” he says, not looking at me. He looks down and his dark hair falls on his face, covering his eyes from my sight.

“Haven’t we all,” I say under my breath. The lecturer starts talking, interrupting our conversation. I sigh, throwing one last look at Grayson before staring straight ahead.

Grayson trails behind me when class is over. When we walk out to the car park, he reaches out and gently takes my wrist. “I miss you,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my pulse.

“I miss you too,” I admit quietly. I unconsciously step closer, inhaling his scent. He always smells so damn good.

“Have you ever done something you wish you could take back, more than anything, but you can’t? So all you can do is feel sorry for yourself knowing that you, yourself, are the cause of your own misery?”

I take a sharp breath at his words. I nod at him, our eyes connected.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, when I remain silent. Can I? Can I really judge him when I’ve been hiding something too? If I choose to give this another chance, I need to tell him. Come clean. Hopefully, he will still want me, and we can start over. A clean slate.

“Why did you leave without telling me? Be honest,” I say.

He swallows audibly. “I fucked everything up between us. I thought maybe it would be best if we both moved on from each other. While I was away from you though, I just missed you. You. Your laugh, your smile, your smell. Everything about you, Paris. And I realised something; there is no escaping what’s between us. There is only fixing, because I refuse to let you go.”

“I still don’t understand, Grayson.”

“I’m never going to forgive myself for ruining your first time, but I promise you, I will make it up to you,” he says.

“I suppose I did miss your cooking.” So much for me not giving in. I know I shouldn’t, but I want to. I want him. I guess I’m just a sucker for punishment.

I’m gifted with a slow spreading smile. “I’ll be happy to cook for you tonight, and maybe we could talk.”

“Maybe,” I say softly, feeling lighter.

I get on the back of Grayson’s bike, and we go to his house. Wrapping my arms around him the entire time, feeling the ridges of his abs and my front pressed tight to his back, I don’t for one second regret my decision. It feels so good to have my arms around him again. We walk into his house, and he pulls out a chair for me to sit down on.

Grayson searches the fridge for something to make. “How about toasted sandwiches?” he asks as he scans the lack of groceries.

I hide my grin. “Sounds good to me.”

“I could order something,” he says, glancing over at me.

“Sandwiches are fine,” I tell him, watching as he pulls out the cheese and ham. He makes them quickly and brings them to the table with some orange juice.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says, his eyes dancing. “I’m turning into a master chef, aren’t I?”

I take a bite. “I don’t know. I don’t think you should quit your day job just yet.”

He smiles, dimples and all. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After we finish eating, we sit together in the lounge room. A movie plays on the TV, but I’m not paying it any attention. My eyes are solely on Grayson, and his are on me. I swallow hard at the intensity of his gaze, and when he licks his top lip, I can’t help the noise that comes out of my throat.

“You feel it too …” he says so softly, running his hands up and down my thigh. I feel it? I sure feel something right now.

“Grayson--”

“I messed up, but now you’re going to forgive me. We’re too good together for the alternative,” he says, and I gape at his commanding tone. Who does he think he is?

My eyes narrow. “I will forgive you, if and when I decide to.”

He chuckles, actually chuckles. “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

I’m glad he feels that way, because by the looks of things, I’m going to be pissed off a lot when I’m around him. I open my mouth to tell him exactly that when he leans forward and kisses me. He’s playing dirty. There is no way I can resist him, not when he’s right; there is something here between us. Something that draws us to each other. Something worth the gamble.

He pulls back from the kiss, leaving me wanting more. “Let me do it right this time, please.”

My dazed mind takes a few seconds to realise what he said, and by then he’s standing by the couch and picking me up into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as he carries me into his room, dipping me onto the bed and returning his lips to mine.

Where they belong.

“I missed you,” he says as he pulls back a little, his breath warm and sweet.

“Yeah, well, don’t fuck up again then,” I reply, pulling his face down and kissing him, cutting off his choked laughter at my comment. I slam my head back into the pillow, arching my neck as he trails wet kisses down my throat.