Chapters (66)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Keep Reading
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sneak Peek
- Find Me
- Books by Mary Catherine Gebhard
- Acknowledgments
I studied him, a question lurking in my gut. This place was easy to miss. Ivy crawled over the outside. It was on the east end of the Hall, the more historic part of Crowne Hall, where some of the old stone walls still stood.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Too many assholes inside.” His fingers tightened on his jacket.
“Friends,” I corrected sardonically.
“Yeah,” he said without any humor. “In this world, those are friends.”
I lifted my head, tilting my neck back to look into his blue eyes. Friends…They don’t know his favorite food. They don’t know he’s a virgin. What the hell do they know? Does anyone know the real Grayson Crowne?
“I always thought loneliness was the most addicting drug,” I whispered.
His eyes pinched at the corners, and I just wanted to lift the weight from his shoulders. So I pressed my palm to his cheek. He didn’t stop me.
Maybe it was this place.
Seconds passed and Gray gave me nothing. Awkwardness and insecurity bled into my body. I was about to drop my hand when he pulled me closer by the jacket.
Barely.
Just a tiny fraction of an inch.
“What do you know about Pablo Neruda?” he asked, the sudden change in subject jarring.
“He’s a poet.”
His eyes dug into me, forcing the real answer out.
My palm slid from his cheek to his shoulder, and again he didn’t stop me. I was touching Grayson Crowne, holding on to him, as he held me close by the jacket.
“My uncle read me his poem ‘I Do Not Love You’… and I became obsessed after that. I actually wanted to be a poet for a while…” I trailed off, feeling naked, wishing I could take it back. I cleared my throat. “You use that pen because of him, right?”
His jaw quirked, silence pressed, and I waited for a lie.
“Someone once told me the story. I guess it stuck.”
His eyes were so raw, stripped. I knew there was more to it, but I didn’t push. He still held the lapels of the jacket, his jacket. It was like the very dust in the air had stilled for us.
“I know what it’s like to have the world on your shoulders and have no one see the weight.”
And with that, the moment splintered.
He cleared his throat, dropped me, and stepped back. Whatever I’d seen was gone.
“What could someone like you know about my fucking life? If you tell anyone I gave you my jacket—”
I curled my fingers, palm lingering in the air where I’d held him. “Even if I did tell, no one would believe me.”
Eighteen
GRAY
Later that night I tried to sleep, but Snitch’s stomach wouldn’t stop fucking grumbling. I stared at the ceiling as another round of monster growls started up.
“You still haven’t fucking eaten?” I asked.