Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

I turn to him and tilt my head. “Okay, what?” I ask.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?” I ask him, trying to keep my tone casual. I push my light blond hair off my face and arch an eyebrow.

He fights a smile. “No, you don’t have anything on your face.”

“Then what?”

“Then nothing. You’re just beautiful, and I like looking at you,” he says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

“Oh,” I reply, apparently having nothing witty to say back to him. His lip twitches before he looks down at his work. Now it’s me who’s staring at him. He smiles knowingly, but keeps his eyes on the paper in front of him, and I force myself to look away. There is seriously something about him. Sean Paul’s “Other Side of Love” plays as my phone rings. I cringe, realising I forgot to put it on silent. I grab it out of my bra and turn the volume down. I look around to see everyone staring at me. Great.

“Nice place to put your phone,” Grayson says, his eyes twinkling in amusement. I roll my eyes and slide my phone into my bag, careful not to make eye contact with anyone else. I hear the lecturer ask a question, and I slide deeper into my chair hoping he doesn’t ask me. The chances are small, but I really don’t feel like talking in front of this new group of people. I’m not surprised when Grayson calls out the correct answer and the lecturer praises him.

“So …” he says, getting my attention. I turn to him and raise an eyebrow. He’s good-looking—I’ll give him that. Those dark eyes and dimples matched with a muscled athletic body … I can’t see many girls saying no to that. He smirks, and I know that he saw me check him out. Dammit.

“So?” I reply, staring back.

“Are you single?” he asks me. Straight-out, no games. I like that.

“Are you?” I counter.

He grins. “I am, and if I wasn’t, I would be now.”

What? “Am I supposed to be charmed?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling a little shyly this time. “At least, I hope so.”

I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “I guess I’m a little charmed. But not charmed enough.”

He chuckles at my reply, shaking his head at me in an amused way. “I guess I have my work cut out for me then.”

I fight a smile in return. “You have no idea.”

The rest of the class passes quickly, and soon I’m standing and shoving my books back into my bag. Grayson moves to stand in front of me and hands me back my pen.

“Keep it,” I tell him, quirking my lip. Can’t have him going to his next class without a pen. I pick up my bag and walk out of the class without looking back.

I take a bite out of my sandwich when someone sits next to me. I know without looking who it is by the light scent of his cologne.

“I’m pretty sure stalking is illegal,” I mumble into my sandwich, not looking up at him.

“Saw you sitting here alone and thought you might want some company.”

“You took me hiding under a tree as a cry for company?” I ask, fighting a smile.

I finally turn my head to look at him. He’s sitting against the tree with one leg stretched out and the other bent. His arm hangs off the bent leg, a drink held in his hand.

He gives me a crooked smile, making one of his dimples pop. I frown at him, wondering why he doesn’t react to my comments. “Saw a beautiful girl sitting alone, and I’m not one to miss an opportunity.”

I pick up my bottle of water and unscrew the lid. “I can see that.”

“So you’re a History major?” he asks when I don’t say anything else.

“Yep,” I say. “I love history.”

“Me too,” he says, and I turn my head just in time to see his grin. “What’s your next class?”

“Methodology of History,” I say, trying to plan my escape. I look at the time on my phone—an hour until class starts.

“Shit,” he says, and I glance over to see his face momentarily fall.

“What is it?” I ask, sipping on my water.

“I was going to take that class. I should have,” he says, biting his bottom lip.

I laugh. “I think you and I have spent enough time together today, don’t you?”

“Never,” he says, adding a cheeky smile. “Plus I know for a fact that I’m great company.”

“Who told you that?” I ask with a straight face. “Your mother? Because she doesn’t count.”

Grayson laughs at my comment, shaking his head at me. “Smart ass.”

“I try,” I reply, taking a sip of water.

He tilts his head to the side. “You never answered my question.”

“What question was that?” I ask.

“Are you single?”

“Why do you want to know?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes.

“I want to know if there’s any competition I should be aware of,” he replies, straight-faced.

I roll my eyes. “I’m single.”

“How single?” he asks, now grinning.

“Very single. But I’m also not looking for a relationship,” I tell him honestly.

He studies me. “I can work with that. Casual hook-ups work for me too.”

I throw my bottle of water at his head, and he bursts out laughing. Asshole.

“This,” I say, pointing between the two of us, “is as close as you’re getting to me, buddy.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asks, a playful glint in his dark eyes.

Men and their challenges. “No, no challenge,” I quickly backtrack.

“Challenge accepted,” he says, and then leans forward and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. I shiver at the contact and gape at the fact that he just touched me after what I told him.

“Personal boundaries,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my hand away. He’s about to speak when we’re interrupted.

“Hey, Grayson,” comes a feminine voice. I look up to see two girls standing in front of us, smiling at Grayson, and looking at me, maybe hinting for an introduction and sizing me up at the same time. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I’d prefer to remain anonymous. It’s easier that way, because I don’t want people to recognise me or to find out where I work. It seems that Grayson is becoming the exception.

One of the girls has dark brown hair and eyes and is staring at Grayson. She is dressed in classy designer clothes, not showing too much skin. The blond girl, who is the one that spoke, is slim and tall, with blue eyes and freckles splattered across her nose. I look at Grayson out of the corner of my eye as he stares up at the two intruders, his expression impassive.

He sighs. “Paris, this is my sister, Leah,” he says, nodding toward the brunette. “And that is her friend, Andrea.”

“Hello,” Leah says, giving me a genuine smile. “We’re going to see Dylan. You coming?” she asks.

He bites his top lip. “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes,” he says.

“Okay, nice to meet you, Paris,” Leah says, grabbing her friend’s arm and walking away.

He looks right at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to ask questions. But he doesn’t owe me any answers. We just met, so why would I even care?

“I have to go, but I’ll see you around,” he says, standing up and brushing the grass off his snug jeans. “Save me a seat,” he adds, winking before following his sister. See him around? My plan for today was to keep my head down, study my ass off, and not draw any attention to myself. I sigh, putting the rest of my lunch away, and grabbing my bag.

I’m sure that by tomorrow Grayson will have forgotten all about me.

I’m one of those people who can’t get good grades without studying. I wish I was able to slack off, rock up to my exam, and ace it, but I’m not that lucky or that smart. I close my textbook after two hours of studying. I covered things we didn’t even go over today. Being the first day, it was mainly introduction work, covering the course syllabus. I decided to read up on next week’s work, so I will actually know what’s going on.

“Hey,” Anaya says as she walks in, throwing her bag down on the kitchen floor. “I’m starving.”

“I didn’t see you around today,” I say, tilting my head. Anaya opens the fridge door, and all I can see is her red hair sticking out over the top of the fridge door.

She swings the door shut with a push of her hip, a bottle of water in her hand. “I only had one class, remember? I went to work afterwards.”

Shit. I forgot about that.

“How was your day?” she asks, giving me a curious look.

“It was fine, why?” I ask.

“No reason. I’m going to stay at Paul’s tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time do you have class?” she asks. Paul is Anaya’s current boyfriend. I try to hide my expression, secretly happy she won’t be home tonight. In fact, during the last week, she’s been at Paul’s more often than here, and that works for me just fine.

Perfectly, in fact.

“Just one class tomorrow, at ten,” I tell her.

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ll be home around five; do you want to hang out, watch movies or something?”

I hesitate before nodding. “Sure, sounds good.”

“All right, see you then,” she says, grabbing her bag and leaving our apartment. I make a sandwich and eat that for dinner, along with a crisp green apple.

Then I get dressed for work.

The next morning, I’m running late for my class. Holding my textbook and file against my chest, I walk as fast as I can, and sit down, sighing in relief that the class didn’t start without me. The lecturer seems to be taking his own cool time going through some papers on his desk.

“I hope this seat isn’t taken?”

I turn my head. “Not at all,” I reply, staring. Looks like Grayson is in my Religion, War, and Terror Unit as well.