The Design(80)

I flew down the stairs, skipping the elevator in favor of a quicker, more private getaway. Once I hit the bottom level, I pushed through the exit door, wrapped my arms around my chest, and inhaled the chilly night air.

It’s done.

He’s with a new girl.

Drop it.

Fuck. He’s with a new girl.

“I have to admit, that was an all-time low, even for me,” a voice spoke behind me.

I spun around to see Grayson standing in the open doorway, his mouth hitched up in a half-smile. He must have followed me down the stairs, but I hadn’t noticed his footsteps.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” I replied. “I mean, of all the times to get into a fight.”

“It needed to happen,” he said, stepping out of the doorway and letting the heavy metal door shut behind him. “But that wasn’t how I had it planned.”

I nodded. The blame was definitely a burden we’d have to share.

I took a seat on the edge of an abandoned wooden palette near the backdoor. We were alone in the small alley next to Brooklyn’s condominium building. A lone streetlamp afforded us a gentle layer of light, just enough so that when Grayson took a seat beside me, I could see his subtle frown.

“I wasn’t prepared to see you with another girl,” I admitted, keeping my gaze on the layers of brick across the alley. “I could have handled it better.”

He nodded, taking a while to respond. “That was a dumb move on my part.”

“Does she mean something to you?” I asked, peering over at him from the corner of my eye.

“The girl? No,” he answered, picking up a stray rock from the ground and tossing it along the concrete as if he were skipping it on water. “I met her in the elevator on the way up and just stuck by her after we walked in just in case you had a date. I think she’s Jason’s cousin or something.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

He laughed and nodded, staring down at the ground in shame.

I nodded slowly, processing his message at the same time that my brain bombarded me with questions. I had so much I wanted to know and yet, it felt good to just sit beside him in silence. I knew the moment was fleeting. As soon as we began to talk, I’d inevitably ruin whatever peace temporarily hung over us. He must have felt the same way because for the next few minutes, the two of us just sat on that palette and stared out into the alley. I listened to the passing cars, the chattering groups of people as they walked by, and the way the wood creaked whenever we shifted our weight. It was a moment I’d be able to hang on to when I was alone later, one last moment of peace with Grayson by my side.

I dropped a finger to the dirt and made circles, realizing it was time to tell him the truth.

“I think a part of me thought you’d come to Paris. I even waited by the Eiffel Tower thinking that if I went there every day at the same time, eventually one day you would be there,” I admitted, feeling tears burning the corners of my eyes.

“I wanted to be there, Cammie. I bought three tickets, but each one inevitably went unused,” he replied with defeat.

“Why didn’t you come?” I asked, watching my finger creating circles in the dirt.

“There were a lot of reasons, but most of all there was the fear that you’d reject me once I arrived. You didn’t exactly leave me much hope at the end.”

I cringed at the memory of walking away from him at the airport.

“Anyway, did you like it? Paris?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him the truth, but instead a lie came out.

“Oh, yeah. It’s great. I’m heading back soon.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

Grayson nodded, visibly impressed. “Wow. That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, I think I just fit in there.”

“And how do you like the people? Do you have a guy you’re seeing?”

A slideshow of terrible prospects flashed through my mind. There’d been the hobo who’d peed next to me on the subway, my bunkmate who thought bathing was optional, and a slew of French guys who thought that any American girl traveling abroad was down for an easy lay.

“Oh, I’ve just been playing the field. Y’know, don’t want to tie myself down with anyone early on.”

I peered over to see him smiling, a bit too smug for comfort.

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” I asked.

He corrected his features right away. “Oh, no. I’m just happy everything is working out so well for you. Seems like heading to Paris was the smartest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Oh, yeah,” I agreed emphatically. “Definitely.”

What was I saying? Why couldn’t I just tell him the truth? Why couldn’t I tell him that I’d majorly f*cked up, that leaving him was the worst mistake I’d ever made?

“So when do you head back?” he asked.

Never. I had like $50 to my name.

“Hmm, maybe in a few weeks. Brooklyn has missed me, so I don’t want to rush off.”

He nodded and stared off in the distance, that same smile begging me to decipher his true intentions.

“I’m sure you’re really anxious to get back. We must seem like uncivilized brutes compared to all of your French friends.”

I lingered on his appearance: the sharp, regal features paired with his suit and cuff links. Grayson was anything but a brute.