Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

He smiles, sitting down in the chair and putting his book on the table. “How are you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and turning his body toward me. He’s wearing a blue and white flannel shirt that looks amazing on him. It stretches over his broad shoulders and toned arms.

“Fine, how are you?” I find myself asking. He just seems so friendly and genuine. Maybe he wouldn’t judge me if he got to know the real me? If only. There are some things that anyone will judge you for, no matter how they may seem upon first impression. He waves hello to a few other people in the class.

“Big night last night?” Grayson asks, his attention back on me.

I freeze. “No, why?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “You have a little…” he trails off, staring.

I wipe my fingers on my lips, coming away with a faint smear of red lipstick. “Oh right, that,” I say, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I thought I had gotten it all off, but I guess I was wrong. I can only hope my eyes don’t have any black around them, from the eyeliner and mascara I had on last night.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, frowning. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it…”

“What if I just decided to wear red lipstick to school today? Your question would have been rude,” I point out.

He frowns. “You’re right; it would have. But I just assumed…”

“You know what they say about people that assume.”

He nods. “I’m sorry I said anything. It was rude, but I was curious about you and—”

I cut him off. “I went out to dinner last night.”

He’s silent for about ten minutes before he starts talking again. “Do you live with your parents?”

“Why? You planning on sneaking into my house?” leaves my mouth before I can stop it. I turn to look at him. He’s staring at me with a cheeky smirk on his gorgeous face.

“Are you flirting with me?” he asks with a straight face, blinking slowly a few times. I can’t help it, I start laughing, causing me to get evil looks from the students sitting around us.

“No, I’m not. And to answer your other question, no I don’t live with my parents.” Because I don’t have any.

“Where do they live?” he asks, leaning his cheek on his palm. He just has to keep pushing, doesn’t he?

“They passed away,” I say, looking away from him and straight ahead.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says quietly. He leans out and touches my shoulder, a silent show of support. I clear my throat and force a shrug.

“It happened a long time ago. I live with my roommate,” I say.

“Will she let me sneak in?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think it’s me you need to win over, Grayson,” I say, winking at him. He laughs then, a deep sound, and I can’t keep my eyes off him as he does it.

“You’re right. Can I have your phone number?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, flashing him a smile and then turning to the front of the room. I can feel his eyes on me, but I pretend to be oblivious.

There is no point denying that something about Grayson has piqued my interest. But now is not the time for me to get involved with anyone.

“Paris!”

I turn when I hear Grayson’s voice. He’s walking toward me, holding a helmet in one hand. He’s wearing a pair of low slung jeans that I didn’t get to admire in class. I know that under that flannel shirt lies a perfectly muscled body; I can tell that from here. After class ended, I was the first to walk out without looking back. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him again until tomorrow.

“Where’s your car?” he asks, looking around.

“I walked here,” I tell him. I don’t have a car. I was just cutting through the car park.

“Can I give you a ride home?” he asks, looking hopeful. His dark eyes don’t leave mine.

I want to, I do. But I shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I live close by. Besides, I like to walk.”

He bites his bottom lip. “You know I’m just asking so I have an excuse to spend more time with you, right?”

I laugh. “I know. But stranger danger and all that,” I joke. Or at least try to joke.

His face falls a little, and I want to change my mind and say yes, but I don’t. Instead, I smile and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re busy for the rest of the day?” he asks, brows rising. He shifts the helmet. Now he’s holding it in his other hand.

“Yeah, I have a few things I need to do.” Like wash my hair.

“You’re going to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?” he asks, smiling so both of his dimples pop out.

I shift on my feet, and look in the direction of my apartment. “I’m not trying to make anything difficult for anyone.”

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer to me and putting his warm palm on my cheek. He gently turns my head to look at him. “Will you let me take you out sometime? On a date?”

My eyes widen. “A date?”

He gives me a full-blown megawatt smile, and my mouth opens slightly.

“Yes, a date,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip before dropping his hand.

“You’re very… forward,” I mutter under my breath, feeling a little awkward being put on the spot like this. My eyes dart around before landing back on his face.

He licks his lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. And those eyes. I’ve heard the saying ‘smile with your eyes’ before, but I’ve never actually seen someone smile with their eyes until now. The way he’s looking at me… I bite the inside of my cheek.

“When I want something, I tend to go for it,” he says, patiently waiting for me to reply.

Of course he does. “Look, Grayson—” I start, but he interrupts.

“You don’t have to answer now,” he says, smiling down at me. He leans forward and says quietly, “I’m a very patient man.”

With that, he turns away and mounts his motorcycle. I don’t watch him ride away; instead, I turn and walk home, his comments replaying over and over in my head.

I’m having lunch the next day, under a tree, when Grayson joins me. “Is this going to be our lunch spot for the rest of the semester?” he asks casually, sitting down and pulling out a red apple.

“It’s going to be mine,” I reply, giving him a pointed look. He smiles, taking a bite of his fruit.

“Tell me something about you,” he says, turning his body to face me.

“Like what?”

“Anything,” he replies, staring at me with kind eyes. I sigh, and give in, racking my brain for something to tell him, and come up with nothing.

He laughs. “You really don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

I shrug. “I don’t really have anything to say.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he says. A group of three guys walking over toward us causes me to puff out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” Grayson instantly asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

He follows my line of sight and nods knowingly. “Don’t worry about them; they’re harmless.”

“Hey, Grayson, who’s the hottie?” the first guy asks.

Grayson turns to me. “Paris, meet Jake, Trent, and Daniel.”

“Hi,” I say, not sounding very friendly at all. I don’t meant to be rude, but I don’t want people to know me here. I want to be anonymous. It’s safer for me that way, and it sure as hell is safer for my reputation. I don’t want people talking about me. Sure, I’m strong enough to handle it if it happens, but that doesn’t mean I want it to happen. That’s why I left Melbourne, for a fresh start. It seems that hanging around Grayson isn’t helping me achieve my goal of being invisible.

“She’s taken,” Grayson adds, not looking at me.

“I’ll bet,” the one named Trent replies. He narrows his eyes on me slightly, watching me as he continues. “You going to come hang with us?” he asks Grayson.

“I’ll see you later. Paris and I need to talk about something,” he answers. They each give Grayson a handshake and then leave, one giving me a curious look.

“What do we have to talk about?” I ask curiously.

Grayson leans back against the tree and closes his eyes. “You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

“So you’re happy to sit here in silence?” I ask.

“Sure, comfortable silence sounds good to me,” he replies, pulling out his iPod and offering me one of the earphones. I smile and accept it from his hand. When I put it in my ear, I nod my head in approval when I hear the voice of Ed Sheeran.

Grayson turns to me, his face so close we’re almost touching. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says softly.

“A deal?” I ask, staring into his eyes.

“You tell me your favourite song. If it’s on here,” he says pointing to his iPod, “you have to go on a date with me.”

I smirk, because there is no way in hell my favourite song is on there. “And if I win?”

“Then I won’t ask you out again,” he says, and my face drops slightly. He’s giving up on me already? I mentally curse myself, because this would be the best option.

“I’ll wait until you tell me you want to go out with me,” he adds, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Okay, you’re on.”

“You can’t make up a random song, you have to promise that it’s your actual all-time favourite song,” he says, his dark eyes sparkling with humour.

“You want to pinky promise?” I joke, holding out my pinky.

He tilts his head and looks like he’s thinking it over. “Yes. I think we should. I know you don’t want this date,” he says, looking amused.

I roll my eyes and hold out my little finger, the nail covered in purple polish. He links his pinky with mine, and we shake on it.

“Okay, hit me with it,” he says, raising an eyebrow in challenge.