Toxic Girl Page 2

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

  Chapter Two

  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.

  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.

  Chapter Three

  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.

  I smirk and tell him. “Jesse by Joshua Kadison.”

  He pauses, and then bursts out laughing. “That is not your favourite song.”

  I gasp. “Yes it is! It’s a classic.”

  He smiles now, a confident smug smile. “Looks like we’re going on that date.”

  What? No way in hell he listens to that. He scrolls down on his iPod and plays the song. Well, shit.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” he says, and I visibly cringe.

  “I have to work tomorrow night. How about the night after?” I ask, wringing my hands.

  “Sounds good to me,” he says. “So where do you work?” he asks after a few moments of silence. Why did I mention work? Sometimes, I talk without thinking.

  “Oh, just a bar,” I say, flicking my hand out. Like it’s no big deal.

  “What bar? I like bars,” he says, as he slowly draws my hand into his.

  “Why, are you going to stalk me?” I tease, trying to divert the question. I stare down at our entwined hands and wonder how the hell this happened. I am trying to appear standoffish, bitchy even, but Grayson still seems eager to get to know me. Why? It makes me slightly suspicious, because I can’t understand why he’s so interested in me. There are so many beautiful girls around, and I know it wouldn’t be hard for him to get their attention.

  “No,” he says, “I think I do enough of that at uni.”

  “True,” I reply, teasing.

  He holds his hand to his heart dramatically. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy my company?”

  “You’re okay,” I say, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. Grayson flashes me a crooked smile and releases his hand from mine. I feel a pang of disappointment, until he reaches up and takes a long lock of my hair, pulling gently.

  “You have the most beautiful hair,” he mumbles. “It’s so blond; it’s almost white.”

  “Th- thank you,” I stutter. He smiles, and we continue to listen to music in silence, our bodies grazing. I feel so aware of my arm touching his, of every slight movement. I close my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time.

  “Don’t fall asleep. We have to get back,” he says, gently pulling out the earphone.

  I open my eyes and sit up straight. “I could have slept nicely.”

  “Me too,” he adds. We stare at each other for a few intense seconds, before he stands up and holds his hand out to help me up. I offer my hand, and he pulls me up until I’m standing. “Let me walk you to your next class?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “And Paris?”

  “Yes?” I ask quietly.

  “Can I have your phone number?” he asks, dimples popping.

  “Ummm, okay.”

  His grin bursts forth, and I like it.

  Too much.

  Why can’t I control myself around him?

  *****

  The following night, I head into work. Growing up, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would end up stripping for a living, but here I am. My parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen. My mother’s younger sister, Veronica, took me, my sister, and my brother in, and I hated living under her roof. She never liked us, and at the time, I had no idea why she wanted us living with her. I thought that she must have felt obligated, because it was either we go live with her or be put in foster care. I realised soon it was because of the money my parents left us. As our guardian, Veronica was in charge of our money. I haven’t seen a cent of it. When my brother Brody turned eighteen, he took my sister London and me and moved us in with him. Veronica didn’t want to let us go, but somehow, Brody worked out a deal with her. I’m pretty sure it involved
paying her a lump sum of money each month.

  Brody never spoke about it with me. We moved back into our family home, which had been rented out all that time. Brody paid for all the bills, until London and I were old enough to work part-time jobs to help out. Everything was going okay until Brody met Elizabeth. They were married within six months, and London and I both left the month after that. Elizabeth made it clear we weren’t welcome. I’m not sure if Brody knew the extent of her bitchiness. How someone as kind as my brother could end up with a witch like her, I will never know. London and I never really got on, even as kids, and without Brody there to hold us together, we went our separate ways.

  I had moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment, started uni, and worked at a supermarket to make ends meet. Money was really tight, and I was struggling. I met a guy at uni, and we started to date. Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t. Mark turned out to be a total douchebag. I wanted to finish my degree so I could get a good job, and I needed extra money desperately. Toxic is a well-known strip club, with several different locations. Toxic girls are known to be beautiful, stacked, and talented. They don’t accept just anyone to work at the clubs, and that’s just me stating facts, not being egotistical. With my long white blond hair, big blue eyes and double d’s, let’s just say they welcomed me with open arms. When Brody found out where I worked, he cut me out. He said he never wanted to see me again. I’m sure Elizabeth put him up to it, but either way, I gave him what he wished for.

  I haven’t spoken to him since. It hurt then and it still hurts now, but life goes on.

  After six months of working, studying, and saving, I left Melbourne and moved to Perth. My manager at Toxic made sure I already had a job when I arrived. Different state, same shitty occupation. I transferred universities, found an apartment, and here I am. I may be a stripper for now, but I know I’m going places. I’m going to get my degree, work my ass off, and be proud that I achieved something all on my own. I’m going to be a history teacher. Someone with a respectable job, doing something that she loves. I want to be that person so badly it almost hurts. I will be that person.