Page 59 of Lessons In Grey

Eighth hour, I was back at the alcove in the East Wing. I didn’t go to the writing hall because the East Wing was closer to my last class, which honestly was a terrible excuse, but fuck, I was tired.

I cracked open another Redbull and settled my notebook into my lap. I should probably sleep, but fuck, I had so much to get done. I felt like I was falling further and further behind, yet what was I doing? Trying to write another song.

Fuck me.

“How many is that?”

My heart skipped a beat, my eyes lifting, finding him leaning against the edge of the alcove, sleeves pushed up his forearms, arms folded across his chest.

Holy shit, he was so goddamn hot.

All I could feel were his lips on my neck, the marks still there, still prevalent. Covered by makeup, but fuck, knowing he had left them on me? Seeing him standing there like that? It was unfair for all involved.

Me.

It was unfair to me.

Who was still trying to figure out my own shit and work through everything he had said over the last three days.

A lot had happened.

My tired and aching mind couldn’t process it all. Especially not with him standing there like that.

I swallowed, my face turning bright red as I turned back to my notebook, unable to remember what he had said. “Um…” I cleared my throat. Shit, this was embarrassing. “What?”

I couldhearthe smug smile in his voice as he pushed away from the wall. “Redbulls. How many Redbulls is that?”

My face twisted as my eyes shifted to my drink. “Enough,” I stated, reaching for it.

“And how much water have you had?”

I took a drink, eyes narrowing to slits. “Enough,” I repeated defensively. I didn’t need water, I needed to be awake. Although at this point, I was sure I was 70% Redbull, 20% gummy worms, and 10% not giving a fuck.

He sunk down beside me, giving me some space, which I appreciated, even so, my knee grazed his thigh as he crossed his legs at his ankles, and it was embarrassing how much that little amount of physical contact soothed whatever ghosts were whispering through my mind. “You need water, Snowflake.”

I set my Redbull down and tapped my pen three times. I didn’t need him telling me what I needed. Ineededto stay awake so I could finish the schoolwork I wasn’t currently doing.

When I didn’t respond, he looked over. “Why do you do that?”

I leaned my head back against the wall and looked over, raising a brow, watching as his eyes found my neck and darkened. “Do what?” I was glad he was here.

He nodded towards my hands although his eyes remained on my neck, causing my pulse to quicken. “Three times. You always tap your pen three times.”

I swallowed, unable to catch my breath, so I turned away, looking at the end of my pen. “Um…” I shrugged. “It was something my mom used to do,” I explained softly. “Once for inspiration, twice for motivation, three times for luck.” I gazed at the pen, remembering all of those nights I had spent watching her curled up on the couch writing. She wrote just to write, but there had been many gems in there too.

“She was a writer?”

I chewed on my lip as I nodded, her face filling my head. She had always been so beautiful. Charlie and I had been identical, I knew that, but I always saw more of mom in her than I did in me. Even so, I’d like to believe that my words came from her. Like hersoul bled into mine upon conception. “She wrote a few poetry books,” I admitted quietly.

I had managed to save quite a few of their things before Jordan took over the house. They were all safe, but I hadn’t touched their belongings since two weeks after the accident.

“Did she ever get them published?”

My eyes lifted and I inhaled deeply. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

I rolled my eyes, pressing my lips together.