Page 13 of Lessons In Grey
“Do you not like me?”
I released my lip from between my teeth and rolled my shoulders, trying to take a mental cold shower. “I don’t want you getting the idea that just because we met outside of a gas station doesn’t mean we have some cosmic connection. We have the same connection as a potato and a carrot.”
He leaned in, the intoxicating scent of a deep, sandalwood cologne drifting around me, caressing my skin. “They are connected.”
My eyes flicked over, finding him inches away.
One corner of his lips flicked up. “Root vegetables,” he mumbled and then straightened, leaving me breathless.
My heart was racing, my mind spinning as I turned back to the hall. Dammit. “This way,” I mumbled, gesturing to the next hall.
~~~
“That’s everything,” I breathed out as we left the storage room where they stored all of the extra coats.
I pulled out my phone, checking the time. It was only a few minutes before they started releasing people. Which was good. I didn’t want to be around him when the flood of people came. There was no need to start those rumors after Remi had staked her claim on him.
In fact, during lunch, she had made itveryclear that she had in fact run into him in the hall on her way out. She had already gotten his number, and they planned on going out on Friday night.
She had basically threatened all of us to stay away, what she didn’t know was that my soul was too sharp and too incomplete to even have a chance at someone like him. I had this sinking feeling that even if I did give in and fuck him once, I would never be able to stop, and while he forgot about me and moved on, he would haunt my mind for the rest of my life. I couldn’t handle another ghost taking up home in my head.
I was strong enough to admit that there was a potential there to get addicted, and I couldn’t have that in my life. Another addiction, one that would ruin me. I had my sour gummy worms, I had my coffee, I didn’t need someone like him.
“Any questions?”
He slid his hands into his pockets, pushing back his wool coat to reveal the vest and tie underneath. God, nobody had ever lookedthis goodin a suit. He smiled as if he knew the secret to the universe. “A few, yeah” he stated, his eyes falling to my lips, to the rest of my body, and slowly lifting back up, making me feel warm and tingly in all the right places.
It was an effort to remain still and cold. Distant. Was he the kind of guy that only wanted what he couldn’t have? If that were so, how could I push him away? Insult him?
No, he seemed the type to get off on it.
Ignoring him still remained the best option.
I rose a brow. “Any questions related to the tour?” I clarified, praying the answer was ‘all of them’ or something of that caliber.
He shook his head once. “No.”
I swallowed, flexing my left hand at my side, the right one tightening around my phone. He was intense. He was intense in a way I found wholly new and completely surprised by. Two conversations with him and I was finding myself completely consumed.
I couldn’t afford that.Hecouldn’t afford that.
“You don’t like looking people in the eyes, do you?” he asked when I didn’t respond.
I pressed my lips together. “Cracked surfaces can’t bear that much weight,” I answered evenly, “and by the looks of it, you’re cracked all over.”
“You’re assuming the weight on your shoulders is too much for me to bear? Baby, you think too much of that weight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ques-tions,” I enunciated. He was wrong. He had to be wrong, because if he wasn’t, then why was I seconds away from crumbling every second of everyday? I wasn’t weak. I couldn’t be that weak.
“Do you go to that courtyard every day for eighth hour?”
I shifted from one foot to the other. “No,” I lied. “I usually spend it in writing hall, but since you don’t have a class, and since I’d rather dip my hand in acid than have another conversation with you, I’ll be finding somewhere else to be.”
His smile grew slightly as if Iamusedhim. “This universe so… complicated, it’s filled with nebulas and glass towers and impossible things. Anything and everything is happening all at once, ebbing and flowing in this cycle of perpetual nonsense, and despite all of the possibilities, all of the gas stations, all of the cigarettes, all of the turns we could have made, we both ended up at the same gas station, at the same time, on the same day, in the same year a month before I even knew of this job, two before we both walked into that hall.”
My heart was stuttering as his words flowed through me like a breath of fresh air after being locked away for far too long.
“And out of every possibility and impossibility, every belief in every God that has ever existed or will ever exist, we found each other three times, if you count the courtyard too. I don’t believe in fate either, Emily—”