Page 4 of Shadowed With Fear

But the silence is deafening. The tension inside the car is haughty, and it’s nothing less than mortifyingly awkward. Blood roars in my ears, heart pounds in my chest, and the quiet hum of the engine does nothing to counter the harsh ringing through my head.

Grayson Williams.

Deep brown, curly hair. Gray blue eyes.

Complete. Fucking. Asshole.

And yet he still makes my heart beat just a little bit faster.

“How did you know I needed a ride?” My voice cut through the space in a harsh breath. Grayson glanced at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Brahm said.” His shoulders lifted in a half shrug.

“He couldn’t get me himself. So, he got his sidekick to do the dirty work? And gave you his truck?” I give him a blank look.

“Like I said, preoccupied.”

“Oh, great. Thank you so much,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

His nose wrinkled as he looked at me sideways. “What happened? You smell like a bar floor.”

“It’s a long story,” I mumbled back looking out the window as the city lights began to dim, falling away to thick tree lines and mountains.

“There’s time. Spill it.” His face had hardened.

My brows furrowed. “You can be a little nicer. Maybe say please or be sympathetic?”

Grayson shot me a pointed glare. His jaw clenched and his eyes were unwavering. I scowled.

“Fuck, fine. Some spoiled douchebag spilled like an armful of drinks all over me. He was standing on the porch, and I was in the yard trying to, I don’t know, get some peace and quiet? I was already in a pissy mood and then he just put a lovely cherry on top. Happy, now?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? I told you what happened.” I stared at him incredulously.

“You said you were already having a bad time. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to go home, Grays.”

“Tell me, Dahlia. I can stretch the drive to your house for as long as I need to.” His grip tightened on the wheel like proof he could drive in circles until I told him everything.

I sighed. The rush of air expelled like a deflated tire in the quiet pause. That’s how I felt. Deflated. Defeated. Tired.

“I didn’t want to go in the first place. It was a frat house. I’m not necessarily the kind of person who would party at a frat house. But Lizzie begged me to come because Issac got us in with one of his friends who’s a member or some shit. Anyways, I had my costume I planned to wear for the parade tomorrow, but Lizzie told me it wasn’t ‘right for this kind of party’,” I paused running my hand down my sticky face. The irritation was starting to bubble beneath my skin.

“She thought it would be a great idea if I stepped outside of my comfort zone, apparently. So, I wore this,” I glanced down at the costume I was wearing.

The corset was from a costume a few years back. The fit was a bit too snug to wear for more than a few hours now, and one wrong move and my breasts would pop out of the cups. The small fit accentuated the drastic curve of my waist compared to my bust and wide hips and easily concealed the thickness around my midsection that I often tried to hide.

The skirt itself wasn’t really a skirt, more so a thin, maroon fabric I had draped and pinned in precarious places to create a flowy skirt with a high split in the thigh. Paired with thigh high, leather boots, I was passable as a pirate.

“A pirate? Or a fortune teller?” Grayson looked over me blankly.

“A fortune-telling pirate, I guess. I don’t know. This was the first thing I found that passed Liz’s slutty test. That should’ve been a sign that wearing it was going to be a mistake. She swore that I looked okay,” I mumbled, mostly to myself, but Grayson had heard.

“What happened?” He growled.

“When we showed up, everything seemed fine. We got in easy, got a few drinks, danced a little. It was fine. Then I went off to find some snacks,” I trailed off again. My face burned in shame and embarrassment.