Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“It’s back at the store.” I smile at her. “But it’s under lock and key, and you can’t see it. Strict instructions,” I lie.
“Oh, okay. Well, any hint on the color so I can buy the right shoes?”
“Yellow.” I throw it out there, and her nose crinkles, but she nods her head.
“Thank you.” She turns without another word and walks back to her car. Just before her driver takes off, I see she is on her phone.
I bet she’s off to buy shoes to match the nonexistent dress.
I wonder if Grayson ever mentioned me to her.
Does she know of my existence at all? I doubt it.
Going back inside, I find Grayson’s old number and call it.
He answers straight away. “Avani.”
“Look, I don’t appreciate unwanted visitors,” I tell him.
“What are you talking about?” He sounds confused.
“Charlotte just left my place. She was not invited.” I hear him mutter some swear words.
“She was tracking me, the sneaky bitch.”
“So, now you’ll meet me at the store in an hour because you have a dress to buy,” I inform him.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I covered your ass. You’re welcome. She thinks you’re buying her some kind of special dress. Which, now you are. A yellow one.”
“Yellow?”
“Yes, it’s all I could think of under trying circumstances.” I start pulling out my clothes and getting dressed.
“What are you doing right now?” he asks.
“Getting dressed.”
“Let’s FaceTime.”
“Ha, no.” I laugh, and I hang up on him.
I quickly straighten my hair and make myself an energy drink before I head out. As I step outside, he’s there, leaning against a car. Not his usual flashy car—this one is more my style; it’s softer and more affordable.
“Where did you steal the car from?” I nod to it.
Grayson runs his hand over the hood. “I went to go and get yours, but it’s fucked. You really know how to buy shit cars, don’t you?” he states as he chucks the keys at me.
“What’s this for?”
“For showing me your boobs.” He winks.
“I haven’t…” Oh, he means before. “I don’t want it.”
“Well, you did show me your pussy too, so that meant a Porsche, but I knew you wouldn’t want one of those.” He smacks the roof of the Toyota. “She is reliable, brand new, and not too flashy.”
“You can’t just buy me a car.” I scoff.
“I can…and did. Now, if you are contemplating some form of payment, I would like to see your tits again,” he says in all seriousness.
“You have issues. You know that, right?”
“I do, but you do have great tits.” His eyes dance with mischief as he stares at me.
I look down at the keys in my hand, then back to him and the car. “I can’t accept this,” I argue.
“You can, and you will.” He taps the window and says, “Look inside.” So I do, and the first thing I see is not one but two designer bags. “You haven’t stopped accepting these gifts, now, have you?” he teases, a slow and steady smirk touching his lips.
“Um… Hell no. You can buy me the store, if you like,” I say, opening the door to take a closer look.
He laughs as I pull out the first bag. I grin wide when I see it’s a red, limited edition, Gucci crossbody handbag with a detailed chain-link design. It’s fricking gorgeous, and I love it instantly.
“Now, drive me to your work to get this fucking dress,” he says, walking around to the passenger side and sliding in. I look to the driver’s side, debating whether I should get in. Finally, I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and take it. People throughout my life have taken from me in so many ways that it’s nice to receive something. I know I don’t deserve it, but did they all deserve the pieces of me they stole?
Grayson, luckily, hasn’t stolen anything.
He gives.
It’s his love language to gift.
Me? I receive.
And now it seems this is my love language.
We get each other in that way, and it’s nice. Even if I want to say no, I know I won’t. This car is great, and even Grayson can be great.
But I’m just not sure if we are great together.
“Stop thinking,” he orders as I drive.
“Easier said than done.”
“Okay, let’s get deep. Tell me the worst human you have ever met,” he says, catching me off guard.
However, the answer is easy.
“We weren’t allowed to call him by his name. He was one of my owners who gave me away because I was too scarred. He is the worst human imaginable…if you can even call him that. He gave me up because of scars, some of them that asshole put on me himself, and he took great pleasure in making me bleed. He treated me as if I were lower than an animal. If I hate anyone in this world, it is him…” I pause, swallowing roughly. “Why would you want to know that?”