A sharp glare met mine as Grey’s eyes darkened. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and carrying a weight I hadn’t dared to challenge before.
“Where’s all this confidence coming from?” he asked, his tone rough yet tinged with disbelief. “You didn’t have it just weeks ago.”
His words sliced right through the fragile mask I’d been wearing, the bravado I’d tried so hard to hold onto crumbled like dry leaves in autumn. And just like that, the big girl act I’d been rehearsing fell apart.
He knew—deep down—that what he’d done had hurt me.
Turning on my heel, I tried to walk away, desperate to hide the trembling that threatened to betray me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I hated the thought of him seeing me like this. He already thought too little of me as it was.
“I told you—” he began, voice sharp with frustration, but I jerked my arm from his grasp as firmly as I could muster, cutting him off.
“I don’t care what you told me,” my voice wavered, betraying the storm inside.
“Lilah—” he started again, but this time I spun back around, finger pointed straight at his face without hesitation, the tears I’d fought so hard to conceal now slipping freely down my cheeks.
What happened to never crying in front of anyone? That was supposed to be my rule.
“Don’t call me that,” my voice cracked, barely a whisper.
He looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. “I can call you whatever the hell I want.”
Good. At least he wasn’t watching me cry.
“Well, I can too,” I snapped, knowing I might regret it the moment the words left my mouth.
“You jerk,” I spat, and suddenly his eyes found mine again, sharp and fiery before softening just slightly. Like I cared.
“You’re mean, rude, selfish… you don’t think before you speak, and you have no idea how much your words hurt.” The sobs broke free, shaking my body as the weight in my chest pressed down harder.
“You’re cruel. You’re... evil.”
“I wish you weren’t so mean,” I whispered, voice breaking with a final sob.
Without warning, he pulled me close, pressing my face hard against the warmth of his chest. His arms wrapped around me, strong and unyielding, holding me tightly as my tears soaked into his shirt.
I let the flood of emotions consume me, crying into the man who had become the center of this tangled mess inside me.
Then regret washed over me. The harsh words I’d just thrown at him echoed bitterly in my mind. No one deserved to be spoken to like that—not even someone as difficult as Grey. But the tears, the pain—they kept flowing.
He smelled good. Clean, somehow reassuring. It made the tears fall faster.
He held me still. That made me cry even harder.
He was mean to me. That made me cry harder still.
Minutes passed in silence, the quiet punctuated only by my sobbing and the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. Then, gently, he pulled back.
His eyes were softer than I’d ever seen, though his brows knitted together with that familiar tension. He reached up, brushing a thumb tenderly across my cheek, wiping away the tears.
“Don’t cry over me,” he said quietly, voice low and unexpectedly gentle.
“Don’t make me,” I replied, barely above a whisper, my heart still aching.
His hand tangled in my hair, fingers threading through the strands before he delicately tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.
“I don’t know how to be good to you,” he admitted, and my heart sank.
He looked into my eyes, dark and searching, and spoke softly, “I grew up without a mother. No sisters, no grandmother, no aunts. No one to teach me how to be… this.”
His hand slipped down, resting lightly against my shoulder blade.
“But I never did anything to you,” I whispered, feeling a mix of pain and confusion. I hated sounding like I was defending myself, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t deserve this.
“I know,” he said, head bowed, and suddenly I craved the sight of those eyes again.
“You shouldn’t have acted like you wanted to kiss me if you didn’t mean it,” I scolded, voice trembling with frustration and hurt.
His eyes lifted back to mine, quiet and tentative. “But I did.”
His free hand moved slowly, resting at the side of my neck, thumb tracing my jawline. The intimacy of the gesture made my breath hitch.
I couldn’t do this again—not this time. Not with everything tangled between us.
“Grey,” I murmured, reaching up to gently pull his hand away, a small shake of my head accompanying the gesture. His jaw tightened, muscles flexing beneath pale skin. For the first time, it felt like a crack in his armor.
“I—I can’t,” I said softly, afraid of what might come next.
“Friends?” I asked, trying to steady my voice, wanting to keep the hope alive without letting the fear show.
He withdrew his hand from my hair, fingers brushing against the hair tie on my wrist, playing with it absentmindedly. His eyes stayed cast downward, avoiding mine.
I wasn’t ready to forgive him—not yet. But something fragile shifted between us.
He clenched his jaw twice, holding back words just beneath the surface.
“Friends,” he finally said, as if tasting the word for the first time. His eyes met mine again, steady and searching, a small sigh escaping him as he looked between my eyes.
I nodded, a tentative smile breaking through the haze of pain, relief, and hope.
“Alright,” he agreed quietly, a faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips.
Friends. No romance. No promises. Just a beginning—an opportunity to teach and to learn, to heal and to grow.