Текст книги "Toxic Girl"
Автор книги: Chantal Fernando
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Chantal Fernando
Toxic Girl
“I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you to the people that were with me every day as I wrote this book.
Ari – I could write a whole page thanking you.
Thank you for your amazing work and everything you do for me. I couldn’t live without you! Oh and thank you for the boxes full of tasty treats and presents! You spoil me! Love ya Cherry…
JC Emery – Thank you for the daily writing sprints, and the encouragement. I really appreciate it.
Pepper Winters – Thank you for being there for me. My signing buddy—I’m going to be seeing a lot of you this year. Lol. Next up– Edinburgh!
Thank you to my beta readers: Kara Brown, Stephanie Knowles, Claudia Juarez, Kimberly Brower and Alice Priday.
Kimberly – thank you so very much for your help on this book. You were honest and I really appreciate the time and effort you put in.
Kara – I annoy more than anyone else, sending her chapters of my work in progress at any random time. I appreciate the time you put in to help me. Thank you so much.
Thank you to my sister Tee, for everything you do for me. You’re my rock.
Becky at Hot Tree Editing – Thanks so much for all your hard work. I really enjoy working with you!
Jenny Sims - Thanks for your help!
A HUGE thanks to Rose and Tash at Forever Me Romance blog for everything they do for me!
Last but not least I want to thank my eldest son Ty. Even though he can’t read my books (and he’s asked), he’s my biggest fan. If you ask him, he will tell you what I’m writing, and all the books I’ve written in order of release.
I love you Ty. You, Tahj & Jax are the reason I breathe.
Never forget that.
I hope you all enjoy Toxic Girl!
Dedication
For my cousin Sasha.
Why? Because she knows exactly who I am…
And she loves me anyway.
Prologue
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, gathering courage.
I can do this. I know I can.
Why?
Because it’s amazing what you can do when you have no choice.
I keep my gaze downcast, not looking anyone in the eye.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look anyone in the eye again.
I swallow hard, and push everything out of my mind.
I push out why I’m here, why I need to be here.
I make my mind go blank.
I forget who I am.
Instead, I become who I need to be.
A Toxic Girl.
Chapter One
I clutch the strap to my bag, hitching it higher up on my shoulder. Saying I am overwhelmed is an understatement. There is little else I can do except stare wide-eyed at the uni I have transferred to. I am in my second year, new to town, and only know one person—my roommate, Anaya. The two of us are sharing a two-bedroom apartment about a five-minute walk away from here. The place isn’t anything to brag about, but it’s home for now.
Today is our first day. Anaya’s classes start a couple of hours before mine, so I’m left to fend for myself, but I keep hoping to see a flash of her red hair around campus. As I walk toward a three-story brick building, I hope it’s the one I’m supposed to be at. Anaya gave me a quick tour a few days ago, but I’m still slightly confused. I glance down at my class schedule, scanning it to find the room number again. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. Today is a new beginning for me, a fresh start. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
As I turn a corner in the direction I think I’m meant to be going, I walk straight into someone’s hard chest. A big, warm hand clasps my wrist, preventing me from falling on my ass.
“Sorry,” I mutter, as our eyes connect and hold. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as I take him in. He has dark brown eyes, twin dimples—which he’s currently showing off, and shaggy dark hair. He’s slightly unshaven, giving him a sexy, rugged appearance.
“You okay?” he asks as I gently pull my wrist away from his touch. He gives me an odd look, his brows furrowing.
“Fine,” I manage to say. For some reason, I can’t look away from him. I find myself staring at his dark eyes—framed by long, thick, black lashes. He’s tall and muscled. Holy hotness.
“I’m Grayson,” he says, looking down at me. His expression is open and curious, searching even.
I blink once, not replying. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
He clears his throat. “And you are?”
I bite my lip. “Paris,” I say. My voice comes out a little hoarse. He smells good. Really, really good.
“Paris,” he says to himself, as if testing out my name. If all the guys here look like him—let’s just say I’ve walked out of hell and straight into heaven. “It suits you.”
“Umm, thanks,” I say, shifting my feet.
He smirks and takes a step even closer, invading my personal space.
“Boundaries,” I say.
“What?” he asks, a smirk playing on his perfect mouth.
I take a step back. “Nothing.” I don’t have time for this. I need to get my ass to class. I mumble something about needing to go, and then head in the direction I think my class is in.
“Where are you off to?” he asks, gently catching my elbow.
“Ancient history,” I say, turning my body halfway around to face him.
“Ancient history is that way, Paris,” he says with a chuckle. I turn around to see him pointing in the opposite direction. Red-faced, I head toward where he’s pointing.
“See you around,” he calls out, then turns around and begins walking off. I ignore him, inhale deeply, square my shoulders, and walk to my class.
* * *
I take the first vacant seat I can find toward the back of the room, keeping my eyes down and not looking at anyone. I don’t need any attention; I get more than enough of that after school hours. Someone sits at the desk next to me, but I don’t look up or even risk glancing at them.
“Nice of you to save me a seat,” comes a deep familiar voice. His scent once again invades my senses.
Grayson.
“You’re in this class?” I ask, leaning back in my seat.
“I am. I would have walked you here, but I had to drop something off to my friend Bryce. He’s—”
I cut him off. “Okay.” I don’t know why he’s explaining himself to me.
“I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole for not walking you to a class you obviously didn’t know how to get to,” he says.
“I got here just fine,” I point out.
“That you did,” he says. He turns his body toward me. “What class do you have after this?”
“Why?” I ask, suspicion lacing my tone.
“Just curious,” he says, grinning playfully. “Were you conceived in Paris?”
I almost fall out of my chair. “What kind of question is that?” I ask, gaping.
“Your parents named you it for a reason,” he says, shrugging.
“No, my mum just liked the name,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. Is he going to ask me questions throughout this whole class? I glance around. Maybe I can switch chairs with someone.
When I look back at him, his eyes are still on me. “I haven’t seen you around here.”
“Is that your version of a pick-up line?” I ask, pulling out my file and opening it. Everything is organized into categories and colour coded. Just the way I like it.
Silence. “Just being friendly, Paris.”
Great, now I feel like shit. “Want some gum?” I ask him, pulling some out of my pocket and offering him a piece to break the ice.
“Sure,” he says, showing off those dimples. He takes the piece from my hand, and my palm tingles from the contact of his fingers. This one is dangerous. The attraction is there—I can feel it, and I think he can feel it too. I offer him a slight smile, and then turn to face the front of the class.
The lecturer speaks, saving me from having to socialise. I keep my head faced to the front, my eyes locked on the man speaking. I pull out my purple pen and start jotting down notes, wanting to be on top of things from the get-go.
He clears his throat. “Can I borrow a pen?”
I put my pen down and turn my head to look at him. His warm brown eyes look at me expectantly, his dark hair curling behind his ears. I force myself to move my gaze away from his face, to stop taking in every inch of him.
“You came to your first day with no pen?” I ask, blinking slowly.
He shrugs and flashes me a boyish smile. I wonder if he knows that he could use that smile as a weapon, or if he’s somehow unaware of his charm. I hope it’s the latter, but most likely it’s the former. I open my pencil case, trying to find an appropriate-looking pen. Baby blue with sparkles, that’s going to have to do. I hand it over to him, making sure our hands don’t touch, and wait for him to complain about the girly pen. Instead, he surprises me by smiling and thanking me. I scrunch my eyebrows, turning back to face the front of the room. When I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it. When he keeps staring, I decide to say something.
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.
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.
