Grayson (This is Our Life Book 1) (2 page)

"I'm coming, just a minute!" I yell through the stuffy little house.  I finish my makeup, then with one more glance in the mirror at the image staring back at me, I'm ready for whatever the day holds.

My family and I live in a cramped, insignificant dwelling with nondescript white siding and blue trim.  The front porch has just enough room for my mom's favorite pastime, her rocking chair.  It's one of the few moments of peace in her existence from the disease that cripples her body.  She enjoys gazing at the small flowerbed with pink azaleas in the front yard.  The yard has been neglected for weeks.  Not to mention, it's in a really poor, unnerving part of town close to the railroad tracks.  Just like my dad craves.  The more we blend in with the natives, the less attention we attract.  He's the reason we are here. 

"Sure thing, Ella honey.  Hurry up 'cause you're going to be late!" my mom hollers back from the kitchen. 

This is my usual morning.  Wake up, fix breakfast for everyone, and then hurry up and get dressed in enough time to leave for school, but not before making sure that my little brother is getting ready and on his way as well.  I guess I should be thankful, and really, I am, but it's just that sometimes I wish I didn't have to take care of
everything
that goes on in our house. 

You see, that's my life.  I'm sixteen years old with all the responsibilities of most grown-ups.  My parents, well, they aren't really what you'd call typical parents.  Mom is sick and has been for a long while now.  They'd called it terminal years ago, but by the grace of God, she's still with us.  However, it's only a matter of time before her roll is called.  I pray every night that God will let her stay with us just a little longer, and so far, He's answered my prayers.  She just can't help out in the normal ways a mother should or could. But that’s alright, because one more day with her is worth all of it.

Then there's my dad.  Well...he's a grifter of sorts, a con artist.  That's what brought us to this little town here in Florida two years ago.  He was once again running away from another con, another fella he wronged.  Lately, he's started dabbling in drugs.  He keeps telling me it's not true, but I know what makes him tick.  He lives for the thrill of the chase and the almighty dollar.  Like I said, I'm much too old for my age!

As I leave my bedroom, I spot my mom in our quaint, outdated kitchen, trying to pack our lunches and struggling as she does so.  "Mom, I'll finish this up," I tell her, grabbing the bread to make my brother's special PBJ and banana sandwich.  It's the only one he'll eat.

She flushes with obvious relief. "Thank you, baby girl."  I immediately feel guilty that I didn't do this earlier.  Mom tries so hard, but she’s just not strong enough anymore.  Her disease is crippling her slowly, and it's painful to watch.  Her body has become her prison.  Just another reason I have to try harder for her. 

Finishing up packing our sacks, I help mom back to her wrought-iron bed, fluffing the pillows as she reclines.  I kiss her cheek, inhaling her unique scent.  I know this is where she'll stay for the rest of the day, until we come home.  I usher Evan out of the little house in a panic so we won't miss the bus.

I call over my shoulder, “I love you, mom!” 
It's just another day in the life of Ella Anderson
.

Finally, I'm alone in one of the only places where breathing is bearable.  Somewhere that’s my domain, the ROTC (Reserve Officers Training Corps) room.  That’s right, Grayson Blackwood is a pro at taking orders and giving them.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Yeah, right!”  I laugh at myself.  Again trying to push away the brutal thoughts of my father and his wayward tactics.  Like his father before him, it’s all he knows.  But it doesn’t make it any easier as the bile moves up my throat.

I sit at the table, eagerly leafing through different military colleges; the one that continually catches my eye is The United States Military Academy at West Point. It's located North of New York City on the Hudson River.  The application process is long and tedious, and I've been secretly working on mine for the last year.  Anticipation and longing stir in my restless soul.  Imagining a new beginning away from my current circumstances solidifies my resolve in making my dream a reality. 

I sigh, “This is it.  My real fuckin’ chance of getting away and doing something important with my life.” 

My father wants me to run the ranch when he retires to carry on the Blackwood name.  He's been relentlessly trying to acclimate me to the whole process, and if I’m honest with myself, that’s really not where my interests lie.  Somewhere above the Mason Dixon line is where my dream begins. 

Being part of ROTC gives me purpose, a meaning that’s been cultivating since I first joined.  Sergeant Wiley continually guides me on the path to becoming the man I want to be.  He saw something in me the first day I walked into his room.  I’m grateful for all he does. 

Serving my country, doing my duty as an officer in the military, is all I can think about lately.  All my hopes and dreams are riding on it, on receiving an appointment to the academy.  I’ve been told you have to be the whole package; smart, a leader, instinctual, they only want the best and... The recruiters have me in their sight!  I am at the top of my class. I’m not bragging, but I’m really freaking smart, it comes so easily.  Sometimes I choose to act the jokester, ‘cause it makes people think they can get one over on me, try to best me.

Playing games is my forte and helps the boredom when you live in a small town.   But I don’t play games when it comes to applying and getting into West Point.  And the best part is, it’s a full ride scholarship opportunity.  Won’t need a cent from the old man. 
One less thing he can’t hold over my head.

“I have to be fucking perfect,” I mumble to myself.  Again relishing in the fact that I can do it. 
I have to
.  Failure is not an option.

Hearing the classroom door open, I realize my quiet time is over.  “Are you coming out to practice or what?”  I hear
her
say.  Her name is Ella Anderson. 

I momentarily say her name over and over in my mind, because it’s all I can do without falling hard for this girl.  Closing my eyes, I visualize her perfect curves and beautiful dirty blonde hair, with the most electric set of ocean eyes I’ve ever seen. 
Yeah, I’ve thought about her often.
  Ever since Ella and her family moved to town two years ago.  The funny thing is, because of all the games I like to play, she thinks I’m nothing.  Which is a good thing, because I don’t need any distractions from my goals.  And this girl is a huge distraction. 

She clears her throat again to get my attention. “Hmm.  I said, are you coming out to practice or what?  We should’ve started ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.” 

Shit, practice.
  We are preparing for the National High School Drill Team Championships in Daytona Beach, in two weeks.  It’s the largest competition we attend and as a unit, we are expected to perform drills with lightweight weapons in military form at a higher level. 
This year we will win!
 

Ella is annoyed by my nonchalant attitude.  Can you blame her?  I'm a prick enjoying the annoyance and fire in her eyes when she looks at me that way.  It touches a place deep down in my gut and stirs feelings only she can.  As I shake out the cobwebs from my brain and focus entirely on her, smirking with confidence, I drawl, “Sure, sweetness, lead the way.” Where she leads, I will follow. 

Practice begins, and for the remainder of the afternoon it's nothing but drills and routines over and over again.  It's a warm and sunny day in the South.  Everyone’s working up a sweat, and my body’s aching in more ways than one.  I try to keep my eyes off Ella, but she makes it so damn hard, sashaying that pretty little ass around me even if she is just marching.  Her body moves within her tight as fuck jeans, capturing my attention.  She catches me looking at her a few times and squirms under my gaze.  I shouldn’t be acting this way, but why the fuck not? I've lost control and just can’t help it.  She calls to me like a siren to a sailor. 

When we begin to wrap it up, I do the unthinkable.  I walk right up to her and ask, “Hey, Ella, do you need a ride home?” as I’m eyeing the trail of sweat between her luscious breasts.

At first, she looks at me as if I’d grown two heads. 
Maybe I have!
I laugh out loud and she blushes in that sweet, innocent way that has become my newest game.  Then leaning in toward me, she whispers, “Hmmm. Let me think.” She taps her index finger on her chin.   “Why, yes, I do but...it won't be with you, Grayson.”

The way my name slides off her tongue makes me moan.  Ella leans back once again, putting her mask back on, and then smirks at me! 
That little minx. 
She turns around and walks away, just like that.  I watch her scrumptious ass move across the parking lot and let out a small growl.  I knew in that moment I was done for, it was over for me, I had to have her, no matter the cost!

As I walk away, my anger begins to boil deep within me.  Who in the hell does he think he is? I'm not on the auction block! Jolted back from my momentary lapse of fury, I plaster a fake smile on my face and ask Amy, “Can you believe Grayson Blackwood?  He’s such an arrogant, little prick.” 

She laughs at me and smiles that sweet smile only Amy could give and proceeds to tell me, “Oh yes, I believe it.  He’s so hot!  And girl, he’s anything but little!” she punctuates.  “What’s wrong with you anyway?  He seems like he’s, um, interested in you, Ella, more than just a drill team member.” 

She raises her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner that makes us both give off a round of laughter like we’re crazy in the head!  After our giggles die down, I look at her seriously. 

“Do you really think so?  I mean, he doesn’t like anyone, ever.  He’s always just up for a good roll in the hay.  Or that’s what the rumor is anyway,” Ella states as a matter of fact.

Amy looks at me, puzzled.  I guess she thinks that's what I need, a good lay in the hay!
Could she be right?
Am I that kind of girl?  No. Never have been, never will be.  After watching my dad and mom all these years, I realize I want more.  I want to be cherished and loved without boundaries.  I know it might seem a childish dream to want a hearts and flowers kind of love, but for now I’ll hold out.  Because I’ve promised myself it will be different for me. 
Besides, Grayson Blackwood is not hearts and flowers!

Time to change the subject.  “So, are you ready to graduate and enlist in the military?”  We’re ending the school year and Amy will be shipping off to begin her basic training after graduation.  I envy her.  I’m ready to get started with my life as well. 

“Yes and no.”  She looks almost sad for a moment.  I know that look.  She’s going to miss her family, her friends, and most of all her boyfriend, Brad.  Brad’s talented with a ball and bat.  He’s the home run King in the View and in line to get a baseball scholarship to FSU after he graduates next year. 
He’s Grayson’s age.
   And because Amy’s dream was always to enlist in the military, their lives are moving in different directions. 

Amy looks at me again and starts to laugh.  I’m so perplexed by this crazy behavior of hers that I inquire, “What now?”  She looks over my shoulder and nods. 

I turn around cautiously, not sure what to expect, and there he is, in all his beautiful glory: Grayson.  He’s leaning against his jacked-up, metallic black Ford F250 4X4, staring at us, at me. I can’t be sure because of his shades.  His golden waves are blowing in the breeze and his perfectly sculpted chest is out on display.  He has the biggest smile on his face, not the normal fake smile he usually gives everyone.  No, this is a full-fledged smile, and it begins to melt my insides all the way to my core.  But I do the only thing I know to do, which I’ve learned from my father, run! 

I turn back to Amy. “Let’s go.”  Giving me a half-hearted smile, Amy gets in and we drive away. 

As we pass the Apothecary Drug Store to head over the bridge, I privately scold myself. 
I can’t get involved with someone like Grayson Blackwood.  There’s just no way.  Definitely not smart.  We’re too different, come from different sides of the tracks...  What game is he trying to play?   He can’t be serious, not about someone like me... He’s a player!

My thoughts are interrupted as Amy pulls into my drive.  I thank her and get out of the car, readying myself for the night.  Everything that has to be done before I can get to my own homework and then finally to bed.  With a deep breath, I push open the door and announce that I’m home.