Greyson
Seatbelt
secure, I stepped hard on the peddle. The car lunged forward and the Kona Blue
Mustang reached 60 miles per hour within seconds, and I continued to push the
limits. I pressed the clutch to the floor and maneuvered the shifter.
Instantly, the low rumble of the exhaust turned to a powerful roar. Bold lights
and a vast skyline were blocked by high-rises, becoming blurred lines beyond
the windshield. The closer I moved to my destination, the further I drifted
from a world of darkness. With corruption looming behind me, I welcomed the
light dangling in front of me.
Her
light...
My flight
got in late to JFK, so now I had to deal with a shitload of traffic heading
into Midtown Tunnel. But then a black Yukon Denali drew down on my bumper and
flashed its lights about ten times. I let the idiot have fun until we got out
of there. From every angle, traffic held steady, but I couldn’t let other
drivers keep me from getting to her. At 9:30 on a Friday night, I didn’t
have time for this shit.
I caught a
break and swerved out of the lane; the Denali followed, lights blinking like
before. This was the shit, the childish shit that transferred from childhood to
adulthood. And unfortunately, I knew the asshole: my brother, Detective Brendan
Michaels.
Not now!
Not today! I caressed the wheel, squeezing tighter than before. This was
nonsense, but I wasn’t up for the bullshit tonight. So I flashed him off and
kept going. Now wasn’t the time for complex family issues. Plotting out my
route, I slowly began ramping up the speed.
A red SUV
sat in the left lane, in front of me, while a shuttle limo tried to box me in
on the right. Dropping my speed enough to force the asshole to pass, I shifted
down and cut behind him, skipping over to the second lane in time to trap the
idiot trailing me. This was the type of shit that always occurred whenever I
made it to the city because he had connections to track me down once I entered
his state and mostly importantly, enjoyed riding his younger brother. But I
needed the next 2 or 3 hours, just for me and the girl that haunted my dreams.
Holding the
wheel steady while keeping the pace, I said, “Call CeCe!” Saying her name
nearly took my breath away. If nothing else, life thought me that first love
spoiled a man for everyone else.
Thumbing
the wheel and waiting to hear her shriek my name, I didn’t breathe. Honestly,
I’ve faced off with some of the worse scum to walk this earth, yet she had the
ability to crush me. The guys I went up against could only hurt the outer me;
CeCe, on the other hand, could shred me from the inside out.
“Greyyy!”
Her voice snapped me out of the daydream. “Greyyy!”
“Hey girl,”
I muttered, scared like hell of sounding too anxious or desperate. I even sat
up in the seat, gripping tighter on the wheel with both hands.
“Don’t tell
me you’re not coming, Greyson! The last time you were in town, you promised
every month. How long has it been?”
“Ce—“
“No, no you
better not disappointment me!”
“I wouldn’t
ever do that, CeCe.”
“Don’t
patronize me, Greyson!”
“My flight
was late, and I’m in traffic. Have you left home yet?” With each word, I tried
like hell to slow the heartbeats.
“I’m
already on my way,” she sang into the line and it took me back to when we were
little kids. I could imagine her lips—the way they’d poke out, pointing at me.
And when she’d tilt up her head to gaze into my eyes, looking me full on,
pupils diving past the barriers most girls would be too afraid to challenge.
“I can pick
you up. Need more time? Where—”
“No… No…
And hell no! You’re meeting me, as planned. I need a friendly face. It’s been a
long week, Grey. You owe me tonight ...” While she went on and on about my
disappearing acts, I shot to the exit. Flooring the pedal, then quickly easing
into a smooth stop at East 35th Street.
“Celeste, I
don’t know what the hell you just said.”
She laughed
and I could picture her shaking her head, swooping her long, blonde hair from
shoulder to shoulder in a flirty way. I know this girl; shit, I’ve known
this girl since her arguments were nothing more than whiny sentences. I’ve
known her since those big, blue eyes were even bigger; when her nosey, little
ass would come all the way over to my parent’s house, up the street, just to
find out what I was doing so she could have something incriminating over my
head at any given time. I’ve always known her likes and dislikes, even more
than she’d admit to herself even.
That’s the
girl I fell for.
I don’t
know exactly when it happened, but it did. I fell in love with my best friend’s
sister, and I don’t know how to turn off the feelings because something inside
of me wanted to go against a childish promise and make her mine. Ours might’ve
been a perfect love, if we were different people—if she wasn’t his sister and I
wasn’t the man I’d grown into.
She’ll save Christmas just to spite him…
Lucy Score is a Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author. Small town contemporary rom-coms are her lady jam and she enjoys delivering the feels with a huge side of happily ever after.
