“I didn’t run,” he says, looking down at the floor.

I scoff. “There was a Grayson sized hole in the wall.”

“Paris,” he whispers, his voice strained.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a non-issue anyway,” I say flippantly, looking down at my nails.

“What do you mean?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“We are done,” I say, shrugging.

He opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut. A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I’m sorry, Paris.”

“So am I,” I instantly reply. I watch him flinch at my words but get no satisfaction from it. I want to turn and hide from him, so embarrassed with what occurred between us.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, walking over to me. I stiffen as he leans down to kiss me on the forehead. My eyes shut as his lips touch my skin. “I fucked up. I was surprised, that’s all. I wish you would have told me.”

“I wanted you to be my first, and then you…” I stop, unable to continue. What I wanted to say was, you ruined it. Giving him my virginity wasn’t a huge deal for me. I was more than ready to have sex with someone. But what happened that night—I didn’t expect it to go like that. I never thought I’d regret choosing Grayson to share that with.

“Forgive me,” he says, taking my chin in his fingers and pushing it up so I have to look him in the eyes. He looks sincere and regretful. I still don’t get why he did it. I know he’s hiding something. But I’m hiding something too, so who am I to judge? He hurt me. That doesn’t mean I don’t want him anymore though. It would be so much easier if I didn’t.

“Let me make it up to you, please,” he says, his eyes pleading. “You don’t understand.”

I puff out a breath, the scene of that night replaying in my head.

“Hey,” he says, cradling my face in his palms. “It will be amazing between us.”

“You sound pretty confident,” I reply, trying to stay emotionless.

He sighs. “Babe, when it comes to you, I’m anything but confident. You make me crazy.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” I mutter, letting him know with my tone that it’s not a good thing.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his eyes showing his regret is genuine.

“I’ll see you in class,” I reply, my shoulders relaxing. He gently moves his hand to my nape, squeezing gently.

“I’ll see you then,” he says. One more kiss, this time on my lips, and then he’s gone.

What the hell am I doing?

When someone sits next to me, I turn with a smile on my face. When I see it’s not Grayson, that smile falls.

“Umm, that seat is taken,” I say, shifting on my seat.

The guy looks around and grins. “I don’t see anyone’s name on it.”

I stare at him and recognise him as one of Grayson’s friends. I search my mind for his name, but come up empty.

“Jake,” he says, fighting a smile. “Wow, if that isn’t a blow to my ego…”

“I’m horrible at remembering names,” I say, shrugging sheepishly. “Besides I’ve met a few of Grayson’s friends, it’s kind of hard to keep up.”

“I’ll bet,” he says, sounding amused. Jake is handsome in a preppy way. Not really my type but I can still appreciate his blue eyes and charming smile. “Gray’s not coming in today,” he adds.

I try to mask my disappointment. “Okay,” I say, having no idea what to reply.

“He had to go to Melbourne on a business trip with his dad,” Jake adds. I wonder why Grayson didn’t tell me that himself. It was only yesterday that he came over to apologise, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

Some apology.

“So why are you sitting here again?” I ask, not sure what his game is.

Jake chuckles at me. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

I lift my shoulder in a shrug but don’t say anything.

“I thought since Grayson wasn’t here, I’d keep you company,” he says, flicking his pen between his fingers. I force a smile and then concentrate on the book in front of me.

“Not very chatty, are you?” he asks when the lecturer finishes talking. “Most girls would be talking my ear off by now.”

I roll my eyes. “I have nothing to say.” To him anyway.

He chuckles. “What are you doing after class?”

“Going home,” I reply, putting my books into a neat pile on my table.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

“No thanks.”

He winces. “Cut down.”

I sigh, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry; I really have to go home and study. But thanks for the invitation.”

He nods, looking amused. “That was a polite rejection.” Does the man ever stop? I don’t stick around to find out.

Walking home, my mind roams to Grayson. After apologising, he just leaves? I pull out my phone and check to see if there are any missed calls or texts from him.

Nothing.

I thought Grayson was perfect. At least, perfect for me, but I guess I was wrong.

Grayson sits down next to me in class, and I can feel his eyes on me. It’s been five days since I’ve seen him, since we’d had any contact.

“Hey, Paris,” he says quietly, his tone careful. I glance up. He looks gorgeous as ever, his dark hair slightly damp, dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Hello,” I reply, mustering a small smile. I look back down at my notebook.

“Listen, I need to—” Grayson starts but is cut off when the lecturer stalks talking. Glad for the small reprieve, I try to ignore Grayson as much as I can, and concentrate on the man talking at the front of the room. I can see him glancing over at me out the corner of my eye though, and I know there’s something he wants to say. I’m really not feeling the hot and cold act, and I’m wondering if I should just cut my losses and not talk to him anymore at all. The idea hurts, which means it’s probably the right action for me. It saves me having to quit Toxic, which I was considering—for him. But now… Hell, it’s probably better this way.

Grayson clears his throat. “Can we talk?” he says in a soft tone.

I don’t look up. “What about?”

“You know what about, Paris,” he says. I look over to see his hands clenched on the table, his eyes on me. I see a flash of worry in them, before he manages to contain it. What could he possibly be worried about? He’s the one who made a conscious decision to put space between us, to go away without so much as a word. He was sending me a message, and boy, I got it loud and clear.

“Where did you go?” I reluctantly ask. I know what Jake told me, but I want to hear it from him.

He runs his hands through his hair, mussing it. “Went with my dad on a business trip.”

I want to say, ‘and what, they don’t have phones where you are?’ but I don’t. The rest of the class passes in tense silence. Grayson follows behind me as I exit the class, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling me to a stop when we hit the car park.

“Come to my house so we can talk?” His voice is almost pleading.

I pull my arm out of his hold and turn to face him. “Look Grayson, I think we should just be friends.”

He winces, and makes a sound in his throat. “I want to be more than your friend, Paris. I want us to start over—more than anything in the world.”

He has a great way of showing it, doesn’t he? “Yeah, it’s not really working for me,” I say, wringing my hands. He’s taken my heart and stomped on it. I didn’t deserve that. I know I deserve better. I can’t look at his handsome face without feeling hurt.

“It was working until…” he trails off, probably thinking about that night. Yeah, I really don’t want to bring that night up either, but something has to be said.

“It was and now it isn’t. Do you know you just leaving like that was even worse than what happened that night,” I say. He pales, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” he says. “I know I’ve messed this up but—”

I cut him off. “I don’t know what you were thinking either. But if you wanted to hurt me so badly that I stop caring, I’d say you’ve succeeded,” I lie. “I’ll see you around,” I say, trying to pass off a grimace for a smile. Grayson takes a step forward, but I shake my head. I do this embarrassing wave with my hand, and then turn around and head in the direction of my apartment. I have to work tonight, so I want to relax for a little before I have to go in. When I get out of the car park, and onto the walking path along the main road, I look back. Grayson is still standing where I left him, looking down. His posture screams defeat. I sigh, and turn back around, clutching my palm to my chest.