Chapter 7

chapter seven

Addie

My clammy hands are shaking by my sides as I walk along the sidewalk toward the park. Almost as badly as the nerves churning in the pit of my stomach or the wildly unpredictable rhythm of my heart, which is racing in my chest.

I can't even believe I'm doing this right now.

Stopping abruptly with the thought of fleeing, I bring my paint-chipped nail to my mouth and chew anxiously on the tip.

Not only can I not believe I'm about to do this, but I can't believe that the person who somehow ended up with my missing sketchbook and who put flyers up around the entire campus searching for me is… Jockboy.

I ask the same question I've asked no less than a hundred times since our last message.

How?

How did he end up with my sketchbook? And out of all people, him ?

I have so many unanswered questions, and it's not as if I can just get my sketchbook back and walk away and pretend it wasn't him.

No, this is… complicated.

Beyond complicated.

He's not a stranger, but yet, in many ways… he is .

What if he hates me for ghosting him? I wouldn't blame him, regardless of my reasoning.

What if I don't measure up to the girl he's imagined all of this time in his head? Or worst of all, what if he's indifferent to me? That he's not interested in finding me to reconnect… he just felt an obligation to find the owner of the art.

I know it shouldn't matter; it's not like he's meeting me because he's interested in me. It's just him returning something that belongs to me, but still, the nagging thought in my head won't retreat.

It's all I've thought of since last night.

I glance down at my rumpled linen skirt, smoothing my hands over the wrinkles in the fabric, second-guessing myself once more. I changed at least four times and finally settled on my favorite maxi skirt, pale pink with an array of red strawberries on it, and a white eyelet shirt paired with my favorite loafers and a deep brown cardigan. My stomach tightens with nerves, and I swallow roughly, trying to summon the courage to keep walking from somewhere inside of me, anywhere.

Except I come up empty, with only apprehension in the place of the courage I desperately need.

I can't do this.

He can keep my sketchbook, and I'll replace it. Easy.

But it's not easy. Just the thought of losing all the work inside my sketchbook for my thesis makes me feel ill. The foundations to my project are all inside it. What's worse… losing all of my art or the fear of finally meeting Jockboy face-to-face?

I turn on my heel and start back in the other direction. Nope, I can't do this.

"ArtGirl?" A deep voice from behind me stops me in my tracks. The heel of my worn loafer skids along the sidewalk, keeping me in place.

No, no no no.

God, what am I supposed to do now? He's already seen me, so I can't just take off in a sprint and literally run the other way, although a very large part of me wishes that I could.

Doing that would be far more embarrassing. God, this was a terrible idea, and my heart thrashes in my chest as my feet stay glued in place while I try to determine a new plan of action.

The previous plan was to take off in the other direction. However cowardly that may be.

No. No .

I'm not running. Get it together, Addie .

I've waited this long to… see who he is. Not only that, but I really want my sketchbook back.

Slowly, I turn, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as my hands fold over my stomach, and I exhale the jittering nerves, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin in an act of confidence that I don't truly possess right now.

" Addie ?"

My eyes snap to his, and my mouth falls open, shock rippling through me in waves.

" Grant ?"

He actually looks as surprised as I do, his deep blue eyes widened in shock, the sharp contour of his jaw hanging open, mirroring my own. His dark blond hair is tousled and mussed from running his fingers through it, and for a moment, I find myself wondering if it's as soft as it looks.

The black hoodie he's wearing is fitted to him, Hellcats Baseball Department stretched across his broad chest. Even the light-wash jeans he's wearing are molded to his thick thighs, fitting him perfectly.

Somehow, he's even more handsome than the first time we met. The first time we met…

"You're… ArtGirl ?"

"You're… Jockboy ?"

Our words run together in a tangle of consonants, and he chuckles, deep and low, a sound that tugs at the invisible clasp in the pit of my stomach, freeing a flurry of butterflies.

"Wow. Talk about fucking fate," he says quietly, stepping closer, so close that I can smell the fresh, crisp cedar scent of his bodywash. "I mean… I considered for a brief second that the girl I met at the party could potentially be the owner of the mystery sketchbook… but honestly, that seemed too… kismet to be true."

Jockboy is… Grant.

"I… You…" I trail off, my brain still trying to make sense of what's happening, but it seems to be short-circuiting because I can't find the words. The right ones, anyhow.

He chuckles. "Yeah. I can't believe that I'm finally meeting you. I can't believe that you're you …"

Immediately, I feel the heat rush to my cheeks as I drop my gaze from his. Is he disappointed by that? I can't tell, and suddenly, I feel stupid for even showing up to do this.

"Um… thanks?"

"Fuck, I said that wrong. No…" he says in a rush. "What I meant to say is that I can't believe that you're ArtGirl . That we actually hung out the other night, and I had no idea it was you. I would've never let you leave, Addie. Not without finding a way to contact you. Shit, I have so many questions."

I nod—if I had to guess, some of the same ones that I do. "This is unbelievable. I… You finding my sketchbook, the fact that we were around each other and had no idea who the other was. All of it…"

"Yeah, it is. But honestly, I'm really fucking glad. Are you…?"

Shyly, I chew the corner of my lip and nod. "Yeah."

Without a doubt, yes. Even if I'm having the hardest time rationalizing the insane twist that's been thrown our way.

"Some might call this fate, ya know?" The corner of his lip tugs up into a teasing grin, and I can't help but smile as he references one of our many conversations from the past. One I could never forget. Just the way I could never forget him, even though I tried.

"I mean, to be fair, you did put up flyers around the entire school, including the art department, so there was a pretty large probability that I was going to see it."

I watch as the dimple in his cheek pops when he laughs and shakes his head, his golden hair falling across his forehead. Honestly, I'm not sure what I thought meeting him would be like. I'd imagined a hundred different scenarios, but… it kind of feels like I'm meeting an old friend. While my stomach is still twisted in knots of nerves, a larger part of me feels comfortable around him in a way I didn't expect to. A sense of ease washes over me.

My throat bobs roughly as I drag the worn toe of my loafer along the concrete, my gaze lowered to the scuffed leather.

"Wanna sit with me?" He gestures to the wrought iron bench near us, and I nod.

I try to ignore the way my shoulder brushes against the hard muscles of his bicep as we walk to the bench, and I sit down beside him.

Instead, I focus on the way that my heart is still thrashing in my chest. I can't believe that I'm sitting here with… Grant. My Jockboy.

The faint rumble of thunder echoes in the distance, and a flash of lightning deep within the clouds catches my gaze. I've been so nervous about this meeting that I haven't paid attention to much else. Now, I can feel the light spray of rain in the air as it caresses my cheeks.

"I love thunderstorms," Grant says, his eyes trained on the dark clouds. "When I was little, my mom would always get on to me for going outside to the porch and watching it piss rain. She was convinced that I'd get swept away by a tornado or something. Didn't stop me though. I just kept going back."

"I remember you telling me about your mom. It's just you and her, right?"

He nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows, then drags his piercing gaze to me. "Yeah, my dad split when I was a toddler. It was always just the two of us. I gave that woman ten kinds of hell growing up."

"Something tells me you probably did." Teasingly, I bump my shoulder against his, and the corner of his lip lifts in a grin.

"Can I say something? Honestly?"

"Of course," I murmur.

"I've fucking missed you, Addie. I never stopped thinking about you," he rasps, the deep timbre of his voice settling around my heart with each syllable. "Even when I probably should've… I couldn't."

Hearing him say it out loud makes my chest feel warm, my limbs feel heavy with relief, knowing that the way I felt about our friendship wasn't just one-sided.

"I know. Me too," I say earnestly. "I'm sorry I pulled away. It's just… things are complicated , Grant. In my life. More complicated than you can imagine. I know that might sound like an excuse, but it's the truth."

The words feel heavy on my tongue as I speak. I hated that I pulled away from him when things became too much, but I did it with the best intention, even if the impact wasn't received that way.

His gaze lingers on mine, a beat of silence passing between us, and I can't read his expression. I'm scared that it'll be the reason he decides to leave, and I meant it when I said that I wouldn't blame him.

I can't imagine how it would've felt had he done the same thing to me.

Finally, he speaks, low and husky. "It's okay. I'm sorry things are complicated, but I can be there for you, the way I was before. I miss those days, fuck, I do. If you want to tell me about it or even if you don't, just… please don't disappear on me again, Addie. Okay?"

I can't get over how… handsome he is. Just like the night that I met him at the Kappa house, I was taken aback by it. I'm pretty sure I've never seen anyone as attractive as Grant, and internally, my stomach is flipping and my mind spinning at the thought of him being Jockboy.

This is the boy that I spent my nights talking to. The boy that I felt more seen by than anyone in my life.

And I'm sitting next to him on this park bench, so close that I can feel the heat of his body on mine.

It's a surreal feeling.

"Okay," I whisper shyly, tucking my hair behind my ear. Thankfully, it's dark enough that he probably can't see the way that my cheeks heat furiously under his lingering gaze.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who can't stop staring. He hasn't taken his eyes off me since he arrived.

"Can I hug you?" he says as he pushes to his feet. "I feel like I've waited so fucking long to hug you, ArtGirl. Would that be okay?"

"Yes."

He offers me his hand, and I hesitantly slide my hand in his. When his fingers close around mine, my heart begins to race erratically as he pulls me up from the bench.

And then, he's gently tugging me into his arms.

They wrap tightly around my body, strong and secure, as my cheek rests on the hard plane of his chest.

For a second, I just… breathe , melting into his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath his rib cage. I memorize the feeling since it'll probably be the only time that I get to experience it.

I imagined this moment in a thousand different ways. What it would feel like to touch him, to feel safe in his arms.

Yet, nothing could come close to the sense of comfort I feel sinking into his embrace.

Suddenly, thunder cracks in the sky, and I feel the first raindrop hitting my hair, the only warning we get before the sky opens up. Fat, heavy drops of rain begin to fall, and in a matter of seconds, I feel it soaking through my shirt and into my skin.

"Oh shit," Grant mutters, dropping his arms only to hold out his hand for me. I quickly take it, and then he's pulling me toward the covered awning on the other side of the park.

Before we even make it there, we're both completely drenched and laughing so hard that I can't tell if it's the rain or him that's making it hard to see.

"God, I feel like that came out of nowhere," I say once we're safely under the pavilion.

He laughs as he shakes his head side to side playfully, sending a spray of water my way. "Seems like a lot of things have come out of nowhere for us lately, huh?"

"That's the thing about fate. You never see it coming," I say, averting my gaze when his burns through me. It feels like he's not just staring at me but into me.

"Who's that?"

Glancing up, I see a hooded figure aggressively walking through the onslaught of rain toward the covered awning where we're standing. At first, I have no clue who it is. It's raining too hard, and it's too dark to see almost anything.

But once they get closer, I realize exactly who it is, squashing the flurry of butterflies that were fluttering inside my chest and replacing them with unease. "Oh god," I whisper with wide eyes. "This cannot be happening."

Grant's brow furrows in confusion. "What? What's happening?"

I don't answer immediately, mostly because I'm trying to figure out how Dixon even knew where I was, so Grant reaches out and grasps the tips of my fingers gently. "Addie?"

My eyes dart to his, and I sigh, knowing that as much as I don't want to say goodbye, I have to. "Just… I have to go, okay? Thank you for meeting me tonight. I appreciate it, and Grant, I'm really, really glad that it happened this way."

I hate that he looks… disappointed, the crease between his brow deepening as his jaw works. I'm already messing this up again, but Dixon showing up here tonight proves what I knew nine months ago, that it has to be this way. I don't want Grant to see this turbulent part of my life, so there is no other way that this can go.

Softly, I pull my hand free and start to walk away, one step back at a time, until I hear Dixon growl my name.

The sound sends chills down my spine, and I wince, tearing my gaze from Grant's to face my disgruntled, forced fiancé.

"What are you doing here, Dixon?"

When he steps under the awning, he throws his hood off his head and sneers at me. "That's a question I should be asking you, isn't it, Addie?" He says my name with such force that I jolt back slightly.

Dixon sways on his feet before reaching out to steady himself against the metal beam of the awning.

Even from a foot away, I can smell the overwhelming stench of alcohol permeating off him. It's enough to make me gag.

He's drunk. Not only is he drunk, but I'm guessing he drove here like this in a thunderstorm, putting everyone's life at risk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Grant stepping closer to me, his shoulders tense as he glares at Dixon, his eyes hard.

"How did you even know I was here, Dixon? Do you realize how creepy this is?" I say quietly.

When he laughs, it's devoid of humor, a mocking sound that does nothing for the trepidation building inside of me. In the dim street light, I can see how bloodshot his eyes are.

"Not important. What is important, though, is the fact that you're at a park in the middle of the night with another guy."

My hands are tightened into fists at my side as a wave of anger coils through my body.

How dare he show up like this? Drunk and acting unhinged and possessive.

"You're drunk, and you need to leave." My voice wavers as I speak, nerves shooting through me and stealing any conviction I had. "You never should have come here."

"Addie, who is this guy?" Grant asks. When I glance over at him, I see all of the questions in his eyes, and I wish that this wasn't happening right now. I'm completely mortified by Dixon's behavior, and all I want is for him to leave.

Lifting my chin, I say, "No one. He's leaving."

Dixon chuckles darkly, "And you're coming with me, Addie."

"No, I'm not."

"You either leave with me, or I'll put you in the fucking car myself." He stalks forward, wrapping his fingers around my bicep and squeezing hard.

"Ow, Dixon, you're hurting me. Let me go!"

Tears prickle my eyes at the force of his grip, and I suck in a sharp hiss. When I try to wrench my arm free, he only tightens his hold, but before the cry even leaves my lips, he's on the ground in front of me.

"Keep your fucking hands off of her," Grant spits, his chest heaving beneath his hoodie. Anger radiates off him in thick, pulsing waves. "I don't know who you are or what's going on, but I do know that you will not put your hands on her again. Do you fucking hear me?"

Grant gently pulls me into him, rubbing the palm of his hand gently over the sore spot on my arm. He's so tender and attentive that it causes my chest to ache.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, worry flickering in his eyes.

I nod, biting my lip to hold back the tears that threaten to spill from my watery eyes. "I'm fine. Thank you." I look down at Dixon and shore up what little courage I can. "Dixon, leave now, or… I… I'm going to call the police, and even your daddy won't be able to get you out of this one."

My words sound more assertive than I feel. I'm shaken up and scared. But I'm completely done with this.

With him.

"This isn't over, Addie." Dixon seethes as he rises to his feet and flips Grant off. "We'll see each other soon." His threatening tone makes me wrap my arms around myself protectively.

With one final glance, he pulls the hood back up and disappears into the stormy darkness.

"What a fucking prick. Who is that guy?" Grant asks once he's gone.

I don't know how to answer that question, so instead, I suck in a deep, shaky breath and put distance between us.

My emotions are in overdrive, and I can feel my anxiety snaking up my spine. Dixon showing up tonight after meeting Grant for the first time burst the little happy bubble that I tried to surround myself with, and now, reality has rushed back in with force like never before.

I can't do this. Not then, and not now.

"He's… no one. I need to go, Grant. I'm sorry." I turn and run out from under the awning into the rain. It pelts my skin rhythmically as I make my way to my car. The sidewalk is slick and wet under my feet, and I pick up my pace, nearly to my car when a hand wraps around my wrist, gently stopping me.

Turning, I see Grant standing there, his golden hair wet and dripping and sticking to his forehead. Rain droplets cascade down his face and cling to his dark lashes.

"Why do you keep running away from me, Ar—Addie? Are you running away for that asshole?" he asks over the thundering sound of the storm.

I reach up, pushing my drenched hair out of my face as our eyes stay locked, and I suck in a deep breath.

This is all such a colossal mess.

"I don't have a choice, Grant. I'm supposed to marry him in less than two weeks."

His lips part in shock as the crease in his brow returns. Fat droplets of rain trickle down his face as he shakes his head. "Married? You're engaged… to him ? Is that why you ghosted me? You were engaged the whole time?" He pauses, collecting himself, and rubs his hand over his jaw. "Addie, you can't marry that piece of shit… I mean, look what he just said to you. What he did to you," Grant says gently.

"I don't have a choice! You think I want this?" I cry. I look down at the ground, laughing humorlessly. "Of course I don't want to marry him. I don't even want to be around him, let alone married to him."

This time, it's me who pauses as I try to regain a semblance of control, sucking in ragged breath after ragged breath as the rain punctuates every word. "Do you remember when I told you last year… about my stepdad trying to force me into a marriage? Well, that hasn't changed."

Silence hangs between us. The only sound is that of the wind whipping through the air as rain falls, the trees swishing in the night. And then I unload it all on him.

"Do you remember me telling you about my mom's bakery? Well, my stepfather has been threatening to take it away from me if I don't marry Dixon. The bank is on the verge of taking our business because of my stepfather's financial troubles, and this is his solution. Dixon's family is beyond wealthy. If I don't agree, he's going to sell it to punish me."

Tears well in my eyes as it all comes tumbling out. I dare a glance at Grant, searching for any sign of judgment on his face, but there's none, so I continue, even though it's hard to lay it all out like this. All I see is warmth and empathy.

"But a few nights ago, my friend overheard my stepfather admitting that he lied to me about my mother's will. Turns out the bakery can be mine now, when I get married or turn twenty-five. But that doesn't really solve the problem. My stepfather is going to sell if I'm not married to Dixon in two weeks. So, he's still my only option. If I don't, then I'm going to lose my mom's bakery, Grant. I'm going to lose the only piece I have left of her. He'll take away all I have left of my mother. I have no choice."

My chest is heaving with adrenaline when I stop speaking, my entire body beginning to shake from the wet, cold rain pelting my body and soaking me to the bone.

Grant steps forward, taking my hand in his. His palm is warm and comforting, and for a second, I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, willing my lungs to suck in a breath. But I know what's about to happen.

This is where he walks away from me, just like I always thought that he would.

Because my life is an unappealing mess.

But when he opens his mouth, he shocks me to my core.

"You always have a choice, Addie," he rasps. My eyes snap open as I peer up into the deep blue pools of his.

"Not anymore I don't," I reply defeatedly.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, our gazes locked so intensely that it feels as if he's staring straight into me. And then he says the words that change everything.

"You do. Because you can marry me instead."