Virginal Headlines: Love Between The Headlines Page 5

  When a text from Poppy appeared on my watch, reality snapped its fingers in front of me.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I announced, the room swimming slightly.

  “Of course.” Grayson stood and offered a hand, helping me out of the corner. “It’s just right around this wall.”

  “Thank you.” I went straight for a stall, then pressed my head against the door. My feet felt detached from the rest of my body. My brain buzzed with excitement and garbled thoughts. Grayson wasn’t at all what I thought he’d be. He seemed real. Honest.

  I texted Poppy: I have a problem. I like him. And I think he likes me, too. Help.

  It didn’t take but a second for her to reply, as if she’d been sitting by her phone, waiting for my text.

  That’s not a problem. That’s a good thing.

  I quickly typed back: No, Poppy. It isn’t. I don’t want to hurt him. He’s… he’s nice.

  Prim, he’s not nice. He’s a player. Soon enough, those cards will be dealt.

  And if it happens? Then what?

  This is your article, Prim. Your pointers. Think. Players are good at what they do. The charm. The moves. It all makes it easy for them to get a girl. So… don’t make it easy.

  Don’t make it easy. Right. I sighed. Nothing about this situation was easy. But she was right. I had to stay strong, regardless if I liked him.

  Leaving the stall, I headed into the club.

  Thanks. I’ll text you later.

  I wasn’t paying attention when I came barreling around the corner, only to trip over my own feet.

  Strong arms righted me, hands gripping my waist, setting my nerves on fire.

  Grayson’s chuckle worked its way straight between my legs. “Vodka has a way of sneaking up on you.”

  My lashes batted with a syrupy sensuality. “You can say that again.”

  He held tight, longer than he should have, but my hormones didn’t protest. Especially not when I could see every curve of his mouth. The way his velvet tongue slid over his bottom lip, leaving a glassy trail. I was close enough… possibly even brave enough to…

  I shoved my insanity back down. “Sorry. I was… uh… texting my friend.”

  “Is that code for boyfriend?”

  My hand shot to my mouth the moment a hiccup emerged. “Oh no,” I said with a giggle. “She’s a coworker.”

  I could have been mistaken, but I swear there was a flicker of relief that passed through his gaze. But it was followed up with his breathtaking smile I felt all the way to my knees. Knees that continued to wobble in his presence.

  Don’t like him. Don’t like him. Don’t like him.

  He stepped closer, and the noise around us fell away. “You’re cute.”

  “And you’re beautiful.” My hand shot to my mouth once again, this time trying to hide the shock of what I’d just said—out loud. “Jesus, what do they put in the drinks here? Truth serum?”

  I was hyper aware of his proximity, and it made me uncomfortable in a way I’d never felt before. An inexperienced way. An intimate way. I backed up, but there was nowhere to go. Just my back against the wall, brass notes from a jazz song dancing between us.

  He lifted his hand. Hesitated just a moment before pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I saw it then, where this night was headed. The quick shift in friendly conversation to something less friendly and more romantic.

  Please, don’t be that guy.

  Fire spread behind my skin. As a shift in the air put my senses on high alert. I couldn’t let myself get sucked in. Not this early in.

  “I don’t want to call it a night. Not yet.” He moved closer, something flickering in his eyes. A change, the color deepening, swirling with desire. “Something tells me you feel the same.”

  There he was. The player. The Grayson I’d read about. The cards Poppy warned me about.

  It was the cold bucket of water I needed to be dumped over me. The slap to my wits, waking them from their inebriated slumber.

  “And you were doing so well,” I said, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  Shame flashed across the dip of his eyebrows at my dismay, which oddly made me feel somewhat better. “Prim, I didn’t mean—”

  “Didn’t you though?” I volleyed. “You don’t have to work for anything in life. With that face and charm… all you have to do is breathe and opportunity is handed to you. Women throw themselves at you. But not everyone has that luxury, Grayson Pierce, and not everyone is attracted to it, either. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  With that, I made my way through the crowd, tucking away my hurt.

  Hoping that, against all odds, my tactics would work.

  Serendipity

  Prim sank under my skin like a drug. I was lucid in her presence. Disarmed by her wide blue eyes that sparkled invitingly like two round oceans. The empathy that lived in her sincere smile. She didn’t want a piece of me like everyone else.

  And, the first chance I had, I went and ruined it with my old tricks.

  Between the drinks and the way those jeans hugged her heart-shaped ass, there was no chance in hell I wasn’t going to slip. She was like a perfect summer day. A short, shapely body that would fit perfectly underneath mine. Pouty lips I wanted to nibble on.

  I should have never brought her there… to the same place I brought all the others. Prim didn’t seem like the type of girl to hang out at a bar. Hell, she didn’t seem like the type to go for a cheesy one-liner. So why the fuck had I tried it on her?

  There was an energy I felt around her I’d never experienced before. Fresh and sweet. All night, I’d put small moves on her. A brush of the knuckles here. A bump of a thigh there. Every time, I’d revel in the dusty-rose blush that seemed to live beneath her pale skin. When she’d adjust her glasses, which was a nervous quirk I found irresistibly adorable.

  Her innocence was refreshing. Inviting. But even more so, it was tempting because even the most innocent had a wild side dying to break free.

  I wanted to be there when she let hers out.

  “Prim, wait. Please,” I called as I followed her through the crowd. “Please,” I said once more when we were outside.

  She was standing near the edge of the sidewalk, peering down the street for a cab.

  “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

  Still, nothing.

  “Prim…” I reached for her hand. Let go the moment her sad eyes flashed to mine.

  “Grayson, it’s okay. Really. You don’t have to say anything more. I’m just… I’m not the type of girl you’re looking for. Okay?”

  “That’s the thing,” I said, clawing a hand through my hair. “I think maybe you are…”

  She turned the rest of the way around, her gaze a little more open than before.

  “I was wrong for suggesting it, Prim. I’m… shit… I’m sorry.”

  She hesitated, watching me for a beat as if to make sure I was telling the truth. And then her lips popped open. “You shouldn’t say sorry so much.”

  There it was. The faintest smile, yet it was the truest curve I’d seen on her lips since I met her. It extracted any doubt left lingering in the pit of my stomach.

  “Walk me to the subway?”

  My cocksure grin ate up the whole of my face. I was back in the game. Back in the saddle. Falling in step beside her, I tucked my hands into my pockets and wracked my stocked-up brain for the right words.

  Small talk had always come easily to me. It was a vital part of my career.

  But around her…

  “I don’t date.”

  Where the fuck had that come from?

  Her eyes narrowed, a whisper of a grin on the edge of her mouth. “I never said I did either.”

  Damn, she was quick.

  I peered into the depths of her cerulean eyes. “The rumors about me… they were true to an extent. They knew upfront it would never be anything serious, but it didn’t stop them from wanting a shot at fame. Because that’s all it ever was. The model
s. The actresses. They just wanted their names in the tabloids. Because you aren’t anyone if you aren’t talked about. It was easy to become numb to it all. Love was never an option when it came to those types of women.”

  Those narrowed eyes of hers pulled tight at the mention of love, either with confusion or appraisal. Probably both.

  “If anything, I can thank the so-called incident for pulling me from that virus of a life. That version of myself wasn’t the man my mom would want me to be. I want to be the opposite of everything I was, Prim, and I think you just might be the one to help me discover him.”

  When her eyes met mine, they nearly stole the breath from my lungs. The innocence that pleaded for me to understand. To take it slow.

  “This is me.” She stopped beside the subway entrance, her feet twisted in. My heart sitting on my shoulder. I wouldn’t make the mistake of putting a move on her. Not again.

  “You have my number still, right?”

  She gave a swift nod.

  “Well, maybe you can call me, and we can do this again sometime?”

  When her gaze dipped, my heart fell to the fucking floor. I’d fucked it up. The first nice girl I ever met, and I fucked it up. I was such an—

  “Serendipity.”

  My face screwed up. “Huh?”

  Her cheeks were smudged with color again. “If we’re meant to see each other again, we will. You know… like the movie? It’s my all-time favorite. Have you seen it?”

  My head shook.

  She pulled in a breath, then let it out with a smirk that threatened to knock me off my feet. A smaller, more feminine version of my own.

  I knew then I was playing with fire.

  “Watch it, and then we’ll see.” With a small moment of hesitation, she twisted a smile up to me. “Bye, Grayson.”

  I watched as she disappeared down the steps, leaving me in a cloud of confusion and intrigue. Serendipity? What the hell did that even mean? Did she want to see me again?

  My hand shuffled up the back of my neck in a moment of foreign uncertainty, but then I snorted a laugh. What the hell was wrong with me? Of course she wanted to see me again.

  After getting into an Uber, I leaned back, stared out the window, and tried to make sense of the evening. Prim was everything I’d never experienced before. The kind of innocence that lured men in. Yet, she was somehow equally as strong as she was shy. The type of woman who knew who she was to her core and wasn’t afraid to be herself. The type of honest I always wanted to be.

  And her beauty… it was subtle, like raindrops on a window pane. A quiet, gray feeling where warmth was sought. A crashing, breaking beauty, like a wave in a storm.

  My phone buzzed for the millionth time, halting my current thoughts. It was Harrison.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s about time you answered. Did you get my emails?”

  I switched the phone to my other ear. “I’m sorry. I was out. What’s up?”

  “I got an email from The Times. They’re going to do a piece on the women’s charity event. They’re sending one of theirs to the gala next week. If we want to squash that chauvinistic reputation Quinn labeled us with once and for all that, this is how we do it.”

  About a year ago, Quinn went full-blown Kamikaze on the blog. Throwing claims of sexism in the workplace. Putting a dent into his shiny gold reputation.

  It only fueled Harry.

  She had to have known.

  Then again, it was the sick game they played. A game they’d started years ago, after the breakup.

  A sigh blew through the receiver. “This has to go smoothly. Our reputation depends on it.”

  I tilted my head against the seat. “You mean yours. Listen, you chose the woman’s shelter for a reason. It goes against her claims. Working with their liaison to help women get back on their feet by offering them starter positions in our company is fucking gold, man.”

  A chuckle rumbled through the speaker. “It is, isn’t it? And the cherry on top is Quinny will be there, watching me pop that dent she left back out.”

  I groaned. “You two are sick, you know that?”

  “As twisted as a pretzel.” A pause. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Harry.”

  I hung up just as the car pulled along the sidewalk in front of my place. It was an old warehouse Finley and I converted into living space with an open-floor plan. We left the exposed beams and brick, rich with history. A project we’d been working on for years. A side piece we’d eventually sell and split the profits on.

  If there was one thing to be said about Fin, it was his wits for turning profits were enviable. But I guess praying for your next meal will do that to you.

  Dropping my jacket on the arm of the brown leather lounge chair, I fell into it, staring through the large industrial windows that wrapped around the living room.

  The sparkling night skyline was what sold me on the place. A sea of lights.

  Serendipity, she’d said. Not a simple yes or no. But still an invitation.

  In just the short amount of time I’d spent with her, I came to realize she was so uniquely different from anyone I’d ever been interested in. She wouldn’t be as easy to get close to. I’d never had to work for someone’s attention. It left me longing… wanting. The old me would have forgotten Prim minutes after meeting her. The old me was a bastard, though.

  And Prim… I don’t think I could ever forget her.

  I’d meant what I said about Prim being the one who could help. I reached for the remote, then opened the Netflix app. Typed in the word Serendipity. Read the premise before clicking play.

  No one of the fairer sex had ever had this kind of power over me before. Had ever blinded me long enough to question things.

  And the truth was, I didn’t hate it.

  “What kind of gay shit is this?” Fin’s voice boomed through the open space.

  “What’s up?” I slapped his hand in our familiar handshake.

  He pointed to the TV. “A romcom? Should I go buy you a box of tampons?”

  I brushed his comment off with a chuckle. “It’s for a project.”

  “Does that project involve a pair of breasts and a vagina you want to tap?”

  I gave him a flat look.

  He settled into the couch, pulling the bag of chips off the coffee table.

  “So she called?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And she said I should watch this.”

  His face scrunched. “Weird. What’s she look like?”

  “Think Emilia Clarke, only softer. More innocent.”

  “Shit, man. The platinum version or the brunette?”

  “Brunette,” I said, thinking about the long wavy length of her hair. The contrast of her fair skin against the deep auburn color that smoldered into black. How the blue in her eyes seemed almost iridescent.

  “And she’s got you watching this?” he said through a crunch of chips in his mouth.

  “I asked her to meet again, but instead of giving me an answer, she referenced this movie. Said what’s meant to be will be. If I’m going to have any chance with this girl, I need to be on the same wavelength.”

  “Well, to save you from the fatality of your testosterone, here’s the CliffsNotes version. Boy meets girl. Falls for her in one evening. She believes in fate. Writes her information on the inside of a book. He writes his on a fiver. Time passes. He searches. Boom… they find each other.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “You did meet Poppy, didn’t you? Fuck if I could handle my own remote in my own apartment.”

  Poppy. The one who got away. I’d never seen Fin so laid out over a girl after she dumped him when he’d proposed making their status official. And I’d never seen someone wreck his chance so quickly.

  Well, not until my own discretions tonight.

  “Have you talked to her?”

  A cloud seemed to form over his head. It always did at the mention of h
er. “Nah, man. That ship sailed when she saw me with another girl the morning after. If we ran into each other now, she’d probably kick me in the balls. That chick was on another level.”

  Yeah, she was. A match equally fit for the likes of Fin.

  He attempted a smile, but the expression was rocky. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to your vag fest. Enjoy, sucker.”

  He ruffled my hair before he trotted off to his room.

  By the time I was in bed checking my emails, I decided to look her up. I found myself wanting to know everything about her. Her childhood. Her likes and dislikes.

  She came from a strong family on a farm. There were pictures of her in a sundress sitting in the middle of a cornfield. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The way her hair blew to the left in the breeze. The subtle slope to her back. Other pictures showed her with many different faces, all family that lived in the same town. A hoard of sisters, all beautiful in the perfect sense. None, though, had the quiet beauty Prim had.

  There were short posts on her Facebook. She wasn’t as active there. She shared articles she read and loved. Even some she wrote on her personal blog. I clicked over to it. A white background with typewriter lettering. She wrote about love and books. Most were reviews of what she read. Some were her own dabbles into poetry.

  Her Instagram consisted of pictures of her lizard, the books she read, and the meals she ate. Hashtags about going for dreams and captions equally as sweet. But nothing that spoke to the Prim I’d just been with.

  I thought about my aunt and uncle whom I hadn’t seen in years. About my mother and those last words she whispered into my ear.

  Forgive him.

  Closing my laptop, I tossed it to the side and stood. I hated thinking about my family. The past was the past for a reason. To be left behind. To shut the door on, and I didn’t mind shutting the door. But my therapist said that by shutting the door, I created a barrier that would only need to be hurdled later in life.

  Forgive him.

  It was a curse she’d placed on me. A promise she knew I couldn’t keep. How could I forgive the man who walked out on her when she was at her most vulnerable? Whose need for attention and fame overpowered his duty to see her through to the end? A need that was only quelled after nearly losing control of his team.