8: Just A Car Ride

**Zinnia's POV**

I stood outside the door, hesitation lingering in my features.

My teeth dug into my lower lip as I contemplated knocking or not knocking.

It had been a few hours since breakfast. A couple of hours since Grayson stupidly called me his girlfriend in front of everyone.

That arrogant bastard!

Mrs. Russo, of course, smiled and asked me questions like me and him had already gone on a date yet all I could think about was Chris.

He wasn’t already talking to me much, but after that morning, something shifted.

The way he looked at me made my chest tighten, and now I was standing in front of his bedroom door wondering if I should knock or not.

I released a sigh, my knuckles pressing lightly against the wood.

At first, there was no answer.

The second time, same response.

It continued until the fifth knock, and I was already about to give up.

That was when the door rolled open.

My heart leapt without permission.

I’d expected Chris to be there, but I saw Elara instead.

She was wearing a shirt.

One I knew way too well to ignore. She flashed me a smile.

“What are you doing here?” She eyed me. “I thought you’d left already.”

I managed a smile that said I’m fine.

I wasn’t fine.

“I just wanted to talk to Chri—”

“He says he doesn’t want to see you.”

“But you didn’t at least ask him or tell him I was here.”

“He made it clear that he doesn’t want to see you. Can’t you see?” She gestured to herself—from her smudged lip gloss to her disheveled hair. “We’re busy, and like I said, he doesn’t want to see you.”

My lips parted, but the door slammed in my face before I could say anything else.

Something sharp pressed against my chest, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My mind raced with thoughts of what they could’ve done in there.

I hated it.

I hated this feeling so much.

I knew I was wrong for what I did, but Chris didn’t have to punish me this way.

My jaw tightened, rage seeping through me.

He said I shouldn’t associate with his brother. I didn’t, even though his stupid brother was the one trying to get close to me.

He said I shouldn’t tell anyone about us.

I didn’t.

Exactly that.

He even refused a kiss from me all because I was trying to be an understanding girlfriend?

My eyes stung.

“You know what? You can both fuck yourselves. I won’t bother you again!” I spat, even though a part of me didn’t really mean it.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, quietly raging at the wooden door before I turned.

The main reason I came to Chris was because I wanted to ask for forgiveness, and also because I needed help getting to dance practice. If I was back home, I could’ve gone myself, but I was here, and now I didn’t have a way to get there.

I released a breath, lifting my gaze from the ground only for it to meet Grayson’s.

He was standing right at the stairwell, looking at me.

Heat scorched my cheeks.

How long had he been there?

“What are you doing here?”

He stood properly. “This is my house. I live here.”

Right.

Stupid question.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that Chris treats you like shit.”

I guess he saw.

But why did that matter?

“You know what? Think whatever the fuck you want to think. I have somewhere to be.”

“And where is that?”

“It’s none of your business.”

His lips curled. “I should at least know where my girlfriend’s going.”

“I am not your girlfriend. Stop that crap!” I snapped and stormed past him.

When I got to the bottom floor, I met Mrs. Russo, head deep in what looked like a magazine.

Her gaze lifted, her lips forming a small smile.

“Oh, where are you going, dear?”

“I have dance practice today.”

“Oh really? Do you know your way around here? This is your first time being here, no?”

My teeth clenched. “It is my first time being here. I asked Chris for help, but he’s busy with Elara…” The words tasted like bile in my throat, but still, I kept going. “So I have to go by myself.”

“Oh no, no, no.” She immediately stood. “You should let Grayson take you. You can’t go by yourself.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll just stop a cab. Grayson might be busy.”

“I’m not busy.”

Oh God.

Murder me, please.

He descended from the staircase with this charm that made it impossible to look away, but I did, and it made him smirk.

Fuck me.

He approached his mother, handing her a bag. Her eyes gleamed when she took it. She turned to him and pulled him into a suffocating hug.

“Aww, you know me so well.”

“You’re my mother, of course I know you,” he replied, then faced me, handing me another bag.

“This is for you.”

A gift?

A gift for me?

No, that was no gift. It was a freaking bomb covered in ribbons, and now he was expecting me to take it?

“Come on, Zinnia, don’t leave him hanging,” Mrs. Russo gushed, cheeks pink. “You guys are so cute, I’m sick.”

I sighed, offering a smile that meant I would murder his ass if I got the chance, and took the gift.

Surprisingly, it didn’t blow up.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

“You said you wanted to go somewhere?”

“It’s fine—”

“Yes, Zinnia has dance practice today and she needs a driver. You know she’s not familiar with the city.”

“But I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Oh shush. Stop being so selfless.” She faced Grayson, and I felt like I was about to combust. “Grayson, please take her and also go pick her up when she’s done, okay?”

He nodded, and she excused herself, leaving just me and him.

He walked ahead.

My feet remained glued to the ground, my fingers tightening around the gift bag’s straps.

A car ride with Grayson.

It was just a car ride.

Why was my heart racing and my throat closing?

Why was my mind still replaying his stupid words in the bathroom?

Did he mean it?

Was he actively going to pursue me?

I was so confused.

A part of me felt like this was some game to get under Chris’s skin. He probably hated Chris and wanted to use me to get to him.

But still, I couldn’t miss dance practice.

The competition was drawing close.

The sound of a car revving in the driveway pulled me back from my thoughts as I slowly walked through the doors.

He sat inside the car, his fingers curled around the steering wheel, tattoos and veins snaking over his arms, making me wonder how far they went.

I swallowed down nothing.

“Get in,” he said.

And hesitantly, I made my way to the car, praying to Jesus that I’d survive this.