"Hello?" I answered softly. I'd been crying but hoped he didn't notice. I kept my voice quiet as I waited for him to say something. "Bird Dog..." The sound of my nickname on his lips nearly broke me in two. No matter how hard I tried, he still lingered in the back of my mind. Our memories, those we shared together, floated to the surface. "Hey, Gray." The sorrow was evident in my voice. I couldn't stop the hiccup or the crack of emotion as his name crossed my lips. I wasn't surprised he didn't ask me why I was crying. He should've known, but even if he didn't, at this stage in the game, he wouldn't question it. The real issue was why he was on the line with me to begin with. "Why are you calling me?""Do you still love me?" His question was blunt and straight to the point. I'd asked myself that question repeatedly over the last year but wondered why he needed that answer now, of all days and times, why this instant did he want me to profess my undying love to him. "What?"
A man had to have invented stilettos. No woman in her right mind would have ever set out to stuff her feet into a shoe held up by a toothpick-a stick that ensured she suffered every pound of flesh she carried with each step she took. I abhorred heels and the clink they made on the concrete. And right now, it was all I heard as I made my way to the back corner of the distribution center for my meeting. The noise was so loud it drowned out the shrill beeps of the forklifts taking boxes from racks that were roughly three stories tall, or at least, with the fluorescent bulbs and skylights, they seemed that high.Places like these weren't unfamiliar. I no longer felt uncomfortable with the lack of windows and industrial feel of the facility. Working at the consulting firm, I'd been in my fair share of warehouses and manufacturing facilities, my latest endeavor, a local distribution center, 3 Tier Auto. Searching for the managers' offices, I zigzagged through a maze of aisles that conta
I managed to find my way home in the bewildered state I'd left the distribution center-how, I'm not sure. The surroundings of my apartment complex went unnoticed as I pulled in. I didn't even see the beautiful landscapes that encompassed the quiet complex where I paid so dearly to live. As if my feet weren't already hurting after a full day in heels, they were about dead by the time I made the hike up to the third-floor apartment. When I finally reached my door, I threw it open, tossed my bag down by the door, and promised myself I'd work on the proposal before I crashed tonight. My first priority was ditching the confining clothes that sucked the life from my pores. I dropped them on the floor and made my way to my bedroom, where I fell face-first onto my bed, asleep before my feet left the ground.The blaring drone of my obnoxious alarm clock startled me back to consciousness. I cursed myself, realizing I'd hit snooze one too many times. Running late for class, I hightailed it to t
I was high as a kite when I unlocked the door to Walton's. Thank God it was Friday, and everyone had left at five, or I'd be showing my ass when I walked in all glassy-eyed and giggly. Stepping into the office, I acknowledged the stuffy interior-it was a beautiful space, but so highbrow I felt slightly suffocated at times. I pushed through the heavy door and passed the offices that all looked similar to my own but with slightly different color schemes to reach my door. Clutching my bag and the note from my car, I strolled through the doorway to perch my ass in the leather chair behind my massive mahogany desk. This was a tough industry, price competitive and cutthroat. People worked years to get in with a top firm; most of them stepped on people's faces while they climbed the corporate ladder. My parents had owned a consulting firm all my life-different industry than the one I worked in, but consulting all the same. I'd spent most of my childhood and teen years working in their offi
Promptly at ten, I stepped past the bouncer. It was so loud I couldn't see-my eyes vibrated from the beat of the music. I loved Cravin' Melon, but at that decibel level, it was hard to tell it was music anymore. I was already desperate for a drink, my mouth crying out for a Diet Coke. The bartenders were lenient about serving underage drinkers, but it wasn't my thing.I gave alcohol a fair shot; that's what kids in college did. But I never took to it. I preferred marijuana-it knocked off the edge and gave me the ability to relax. And it counteracted the cocaine I used during the day-my illegal Adderall. My freshman year had hit me hard: the hours at Walton's, classes, schoolwork...all the things I submerged myself in after Will and the trials. There weren't enough hours in the day to add in sleeping and eating. What had started as a pick-me-up had quickly become routine. By that point, it was a daily supplement I needed in order to focus, and I used it the way most people would a cup
This had been the week from hell. I had taken my last exam yesterday and was on my way out to the DC for signatures on the contract. When I walked in, all I could think about was getting the paperwork signed to get Jack off my back. Brett and Dan had selected me for the job several days ago, but we had been ironing out the final details since then, and Jack wanted the ink on the dotted line sooner rather than later. This was a fairly large account, and he acted like without a signature, I might somehow lose it. I was all business until I hit the distribution center floor. He was standing right there. So right there that I walked straight into his chest. He braced me to prevent me from falling."Oh my God, Gray, I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." This guy's presence made me sound like a bumbling idiot. Crap, crap, crap. I couldn't be this close to him. I realized I was lingering entirely too long and pulled away. Without another word, I headed back to meet Brett and Dan.
I was nervous when he knocked on my door, the anticipation of him picking me up was more than I could handle completely sober. We'd talked on the phone for countless hours and texted during the day when he was off and when I was working. Our conversation had flowed freely, and it had given me a false sense of intimacy. There wasn't a topic we hadn't explored, other than Will, but the truth was we had spent very little time together, and words weren't the same as actions. I only knew what he allowed me to know about him and vice versa. I thought about him non-stop, but a mental obsession didn't equate to a committed relationship. I didn't know what equated to a relationship because I was so far out of the realm of reality it was unreal. I wanted to see him, had been counting the hours, but the closer it got, the faster my stomach turned. I'd seen him at work several times over the last week, but being at the distribution center was different than being alone with Gray. When I answere
Gray made no contact for over a week. I hadn't called him, nor had I seen him at the distribution center. I was there daily and fully involved in the contract, working on setting up the team to proceed with the job after I pulled out. He didn't work Monday through Thursday, but it surprised me when he wasn't there Friday, either.I tried not to worry too much about it, but I was slowly losing that battle. I couldn't stop thinking about him or what I might have done at the football game to cause his sudden lack of interest. The only thing I could discern was the pot. He had smelled it in my apartment, but I hadn't lied. It was something I did-I hadn't mentioned the cocaine. Based on his reaction to the weed, I'd never do any of it around him. He didn't realize I'd never been around him when I wasn't on something-typically coke. Not once had I been sober in his presence.One lesson my dad had instilled-girls don't go after boys-I refused to contact Gray. Attention was not something t