Grey (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 2) (3 page)

My face must have look stunned because a thin smile took over his. He was right. He had helped me understand what exactly had hit me so hard about the past couple days.

It was hard to let go of something that’s not really gone.

CHAPTER THREE

Meagan

I hunched over my laptop in the study room, blankly watching the glowing white page. My hands were so ready to dash some text onto it, but I couldn’t form a proper sentence in my head. Any attempt at thought ended up drifting away from the class work. It took me a minute even to bash out the title.

Shifts in Media Portrayals of Combat Post-Vietnam.

I groaned back into my seat for a little break. Aubrey was grooving along to her earbuds and tapping away next to me, but Faith threw me a knowing smile like we’d actually just come back from Vietnam together.

“Juices not flowing, huh?” she said.

“Oh my juices are flowing. I’ve got a whole flood of juices flowing through my head. That’s my problem. I can’t get the right juices out.”

“Is it about him?” She patted my hand sympathetically.

I had only shared that it was over, but I was starting to regret even that now. Of course, it was about him, but her reminder didn’t exactly clear my thoughts.

“It’s a lot of things.”

“I’m sure he’s on top,” she said, lost in some thought of her own. “Ugh, guys are the worst.”

I could just tell she was about to launch into some story of petty misery about her own boyfriend. I doubted it would make me feel better.

“What’s your paper on anyway?” I asked, trying to do us both a favor and cut off my thoughts. “You got an outline yet?”

She flipped over her own blank screen. “I never start this early, even when I care about the class. I’m just here to hang out till we can go eat.”

“Well, this class actually matters for me.”

“Alright, Miss History. Go work on your essay then.”

“I’m going to.”

“Fine.” She tapped a few keys and I thought I could see pictures of clothes reflected in her pale green eyes.

I glanced back at my empty screen and sighed heavily. I could do this. I
liked
this class. I
liked
this topic. I just needed to start typing anything.

I pressed down a key. It stuck. A line of ‘g’s raced out behind the cursor.

Ok, maybe I needed a second move too. I moved my finger over one spot, and the ‘g’s turned into ‘h’s. Almost like I was typing on an Ouija board, my finger drifted south and landed on ‘n’.

ghn…

Half a syllable. Half a name.

I love those one syllable names
, Marissa’s memory whispered in my head.

I don’t think I had ever really cried it out. He had never really left me with much control. I was there only to whimper and receive, to be a giant plush pillow for him to sink into.

That was my problem. I was too soft. I should be burning up with anger at the memory of him.

He was a white supremacist. Who even was into that these days except for grade-A losers? Racists yeah, they flourished, but to actually get stamps on your chest to make sure the world knew how messed up your ideas were? That took a certain kind of proud ignorance these days. It wasn’t the sixties anymore.

That gave me an idea for my paper. When had guys like Vaughn gone out of fashion with the public? Maybe after the first fully integrated war. I deleted the string of consonants and mashed out a thesis statement that looked pretty damn impressive, and then a few other sub points.

The screen wasn’t so white and empty anymore. If I couldn’t stop thinking about him, then at least I could use him.

The creativity dried out though and left me only with the memory of those pale blue eyes, spectral in the moonlight, reading me like I was a paper. I was lying drenched in our mingled sweat, breathing in his silent appraisal. There had been many moments like that, with us in conversation but not talking. I’d seen him as brooding – guess I knew what he was brooding over now.

Still, Vaughn had never talked race. It’s what made this all seem so odd. He had never voiced any doubts. The idea of him prowling the streets of Atlanta, harassing black folk - or anyone, really - didn’t make much sense. The only thing he put on display were his desires.

Whatever his thoughts, his desire for my body had been no lie.

Ok, none of this really helped with my paper.

Aubrey tapped my hand.

“Hey,” she said, one of her earbuds fallen to her shoulder. “Is this who I think it is?”

She showed me her Facebook screen. A little friend invite popped up in the middle with a name I knew all too well: “Rico Alvarez.”

His face was close cropped now, his soft features all square and serious. The picture had left in just enough torso to show he was wearing a doctor’s coat. That’s the part of him he wanted to show to the world.

I looked away. “It’s him.”

“So, should I confirm the request or should I confirm and then invite him to that party we’re going to on Friday?”

She grinned madly. She knew my past with him, but nothing was too dark for Aubrey to turn into a joke.

“You can try,” I said. “But he’s not gonna show up unless it’s a LAN party.”

“Aww,” she said, conspicuously clicking the ‘Not Now,’ button. “I had some kinks in my muscles that I was hoping he could beat out.”

“That’s messed up,” Faith said from her side. “Our girl’s hurting, don’t you know that?”

“Yeah, but not physically, at least.”

“It’s fine. He just sent that?” I asked, peeking back over. They had no reason to know each other, other than me.

“He must have seen you add me recently. He’s trying to triangulate you.”

“Fantastic,” I said. “How do you convince boys to leave you alone?”

“My personality usually does the trick.” Aubrey shoved the bud back in her ear and tossed me a serious look. “You should really try being more of a bitch.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Faith grumbled, before going back to her own screen.

I swayed miserably before my own laptop. A boy I didn’t want was after me, and the boy I shouldn’t want still had hold over my mind. Why was I so weak? If I wasn’t all Georgia peach, Rico would be in jail with scratchmarks all over his face and Vaughn would be a memory. I deserved better than both of them.

Hell, even if Vaughn wasn’t a racist, he was a biker. He was a criminal. Ok, a criminal with a passing interest in classical music and history, fine, but he didn’t choose to act on those interests. Actions spoke louder than thoughts.

Actions speak louder than words.
I typed it out on screen.

Relevant to my essay? No.

But it was true. Rico had been nice and squeaky clean in his own head, but he had laid hands on me. What had Vaughn done?

Well, he’d had sex with me. He’d lay in bed and held me tight. He had listened to me play piano. He’d shown interest in my classes. Heck, he’d even offered me a ride to them.

His words – the ones that he’d spoken? Well, they’d been mostly about how fucking hot he thought I was. The only ones he couldn’t explain were the ink marks he’d scrawled over his chest. Who knew how long ago that had all been?

Suddenly my head piled up with thoughts and I started bashing them out into my blank screen. Nothing about the essay – I’d deal with that later.

These were questions for Vaughn.

Faith said something about ‘devil lighting a fire in me,’ but I didn’t respond. There were so many things I wanted to understand about the past couple weeks, longer than that if you went into Vaughn’s individual past. It all came pouring out now.

I got through a page and a half before cracking my knuckles and plopping back in my seat.

“Done?” Faith asked.

“Just beginning.”

My phone sat like a smooth black stone next to my laptop. I flicked it to life and went through my text history. Vaughn’s number sat nameless. I thumbed through our short exchanges.

Free?
Yeah.
Coming tonight.
When?
8, cool?
Definitely.

It made me chuckle. Was this the love story I’d been pining over losing? No, but it meant that there wasn’t much at stake if I looked into it a bit more.

I thought a moment then tapped out my message:
I had some questions. Can you talk?

The message went to ‘Sending’ and then ‘Delivered.’

I smacked the phone back on the table, wondering if this had been a huge mistake. The catharsis that had overtaken me after writing had washed away. A gnawing feeling was starting to work its way up my stomach.

I scuttled over by Faith and started talking clothes. She showed me the thick winter wear in her shopping cart and I helped hem her down from four sets to two that would really look good on her. She did have a habit of going overboard with these purchases. Of course, she had her turn infecting me next, helping me pick out some vibrant blouses that would work well with my dark skin.

All through the little exchange, my anxiety chewed its way up to bigger and bigger bites on my nerves. I shouldn’t have texted him. Definitely not that.
I had questions for him?
What guy wanted to hear those words? He hadn’t contacted me once the past few days. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was just over me.

God, why would I think he even wanted to talk?

Aubrey finished her mad typing and yanked out her music to come over and join the two of us. By then, I’d nearly ground my teeth to the gums and my eyes were half on my phone’s blank screen. It was a relief when the two of them started chattering instead, so I only had to make small squeaks of approval here and there. I pretty much felt like a mouse inside anyway.

Faith had just wrested my attention back to her laptop when my phone rattled. I nearly jumped out of my chair.

“Jesus,” Faith said, patting me down. “You ok?”

I checked the screen, hoping against hope it wasn’t Darryl.

A nameless number had sent a message:
Where
?
When?

He wanted to meet? Of course he did. No one talked on the phone anymore.

I thought a little bit. No use delaying this further right?

Waffle House downtown
, I typed.
7, cool?

There was barely a second’s pause before the phone trembled in my hand.

Sure thing. Be seeing ya.

He’d be seeing me. I’d be seeing him.

It terrified me how happy the idea made me feel.

CHAPTER FOUR

Vaughn

I felt ridiculous riding into the restaurant lot. Dinner on a Sunday, this was a family place. There was some birthday party or something and a swarm of Mexican kids were screaming and chasing each other around with balloons. They didn’t toss me a single fuck and I had to brake hard to keep from flattening a couple into tortillas.

The moms came running at the squeal of tires, but despite the flickering irritation, I had nothing to unleash at them. The natural swears that came to me all had to do with their tan skin not their being shitty parents. If I let that out now, who knew what else would come out tonight?

I got off the bike and wound towards the door. The restaurant glowed with clean white light, every booth inside packed with all types of people chowing down on big platters of food. I didn’t feel much hungry, but that’s not why I was here anyway.

What I
was
here for, I wasn’t exactly sure. My hands had been shaking when I picked up the phone with the familiar number flashing on screen. I was like a junkie going through withdrawal.

All she had promised was a conversation. About what, only she knew. Maybe she just wanted to tell me what scum I was. Maybe I wanted to hear it. Or maybe I’d just take the chance to hear anything come out of those lush lips again.

I searched the seats for the bob of her sleek dark hair, the sight of her smooth dark face, but she wasn’t seated on this side.

I wanted her in my arms – I wasn’t gonna deny that. The ache had done nothing to diminish by being away from her. That didn’t mean I was going to apologize for who I was inside or out. I’d done nothing but right by her, and if that wasn’t enough-

I found her. She was pressed into a corner booth, face half-hid behind a plastic menu. She had on a blue and yellow college hoodie and jeans. I could just see one half of her, tightly wound and serious, as if the food had offended her. She flipped the plastic and gave me a glimpse of the full extent of her. Her lips were berry purple. Her skin looked like a velvet lake and her hair shone like dark glass. I could almost taste how fresh she must smell.

Fuck, I hoped doing right by her counted for enough.

I pushed through the door and sidled up. Her menu was down and she looked side to side. She had her arms locked confidently on the table, but her feet tapped nervously underneath.