October 29

Toronto, Ontario

Another Friday night, another house party.

Only this time, I actually recognize people from the hockey team. A few of them look like they want to approach me, but after one look at me, they retreat.

I can't say I blame them.

I knock back the shot Max hands me, feeling the beautiful burn of the top shelf bourbon he's swiped from his parents' liquor cabinet.

"Another?"

I nod, sliding the shot glass back across the table to him.

Looking around, I take in the scene before me dispassionately. Couples and friends dance on the small make-shift dance floor in one corner of the large walk-out basement, while others gather around the flip cup table, or pool table, depending on what they're into. In the darker corners, couples have started to pair off and steal kisses, and more.

But mostly wherever you look, red plastic cups litter the surfaces, as do glass bottles of various types of liquor. There is certainly no concern that an adult will catch us, Brady's folks have been out of town since Wednesday. He's had a party here nearly every night they've been gone.

Despite the fact we've played against one another for years, as long as I bring booze, he's been chill to let me hang here —same with the rest of the Landon team as it seems tonight. I had no real issue with him, but Brodie and I had serious beef with his older brother. After all, it was Brady's brother, Zach, in the closet with my sister all those years ago. It was Zach who Brodie kicked the living shit out of, and it was Zach who'd been kicked off the team for behaviour 'unbecoming' of a Regan Prep athlete as a result of the ensuing drama that unfolded between him and Brodie.

Aside from the initial and often awkward nod of greeting, Brady and I generally steer clear of one another. We weren't openly hostile towards one another, but neither would we consider ourselves friends. At the end of the day, though, we were rivals. We competed in hockey, we competed for spots on the junior league, and we'll compete for the college scouts' attention. Not that my current record is anything to write the admissions departments about.

I shake that thought from my head with a scowl and sip my rapidly warming beer. The only thing that drove me here, to Max, Chiara, and Brady, was the need to spend time with people who don't remind me so much of Liam. It's like pain, grief, and guilt churn together in this cement mixer of my chest, and every day I feel my chest harden and the weight of it's crushing combination pours down on me, It traps me and slows things down until its nearly unbearable. Not to mention the pressures at school, with hockey, and now this shit with dad. I can't bring myself to face anyone, not even the parts of myself that screamed for help. That screamed for her, for my friends. I was no good to anyone, right now.

When soft hands slide into my hair from behind, I close my eyes in a kind of pleasure-pain as sharp nails scrape against my scalp when those hands slide back and forth slightly. I know who it is, I don't want her here, but I can't deny the hands in my hair feel good. Even if they don't belong to the girl I selfishly wish was touching me instead.

"Happy Halloween, Grey. Do you like my costume?" Chiara's voice purrs against my ear as she leans down from behind me, supporting her elbows on my shoulders, while her hands roam through my hair.

As I tip back the next shot Max slides over to me, I realize I've lost count by now, but I can feel my senses dulling and the near to constant pressure in my chest receding. I look back at her, tipping my head onto the back of the sofa. Chiara's fluffy duster tickles my cheek and her strapless bodysuit with a bell shaped black and white skirt puffs up dramatically at the edges of my vision.

I close my eyes. Her bottle blonde hair is ruler straight, her makeup is heavy, exotic, and dramatic. It's a costume that draws attention, and even though I mostly hate her, I hope it's the kind of attention she wants.

Once, she could have tempted me in that little outfit. Once, she could have held my attention with it. There's no denying she looks sexy, but nothing, save for a particular blonde, with a particular pair of hypnotizing grey-blue eyes can tempt me now.

Chiara eventually winds her way around the sofa, dropping into my lap and crossing her fishnet clad legs in that distinctly feline way of hers.

Keeping my eyes closed, I do my best to ignore her, even as she slides her hand back into my hair. For a moment, I pretend it's Elle, even though I'm near to choking on the heavy perfume surrounding me. It's spicy, heavy, exotic, and it makes me crave the simple, intoxicating smell that always seems to cling to Elle.

When her lips brush against my ear, I shove Chiara away from me, so she tumbles into the cushions beside me, nearly face planting into Max's crotch.

"What the actual fuck, Grey? Indecisive, much?" She flips her long hair over her shoulder before settling herself onto the sofa beside Max, who welcomes her as she curls into his side.

Max only chuckles, "I guess we know which side of your charming personality we have with us tonight, man." He shakes his head at me with look of bewilderment on his face. "Welcome to the party I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-anyone-or-anything-Grey. Don't worry, Chi, I'll show you a good time, even if your second favourite boy-toy can't."

I flip him off, more than happy to have him re-stake his claim on Chiara. But, before I can respond as much, the commotion from the centre hall staircase draws my attention away from Max and Chiara when a familiar voice booms out dramatically across the room.

"Your chariot awaits, babe."

I roll my eyes, picturing Theo offering his body suggestively, and quite literally, to some random girl. When he walks around the corner with a perky, curvy ass tossed over his shoulder, I shake my head, but admire the view of said perfect ass covered in tight, black pants, the dainty feet clad in the sinful red stilettos, and the long wild blonde curls swishing from side to side. Quite a package from the looks of it.

Count on Theo, I think to myself. Go to any event single, leave with a different girl every time. Dressed as he is, hair slicked back, in dark jeans and leather, the cigarette tucked behind his ear, he looks like he's stepped off the cover of Rolling Stones magazine. When he reaches up to gently pat that sweet ass beside his face, I shift, not wanting a front row seat to Theo's foreplay, only to freeze as I recognize the squeal, then the stern, laughing response.

"Theo Alexander Harding, put me down this instant, and keep your wandering hands to yourself."

The guy in question's mile-wide smile makes both his dimples flash, and his eyes twinkle mischievously, not a single ounce of remorse visible in them.

He sets Elle on the pool table, her ass resting against the raised ledge before he grabs one of her ankles, sliding first one stiletto off her foot, then the other. "I'll let you be, but you're done with these. You can barely walk, at this point it's pure vanity keeping you on your feet."

Her bubbling laugh makes my heart squeeze. She pats his arm absently as she wiggles out of her snug jacket. I can practically feel my eyes pop in my skull at the sight of her. The tight, off the shoulder leather-like bodysuit makes my mouth go dry and every rational thought leave my head. For a moment, all I can think about is getting that small, curvy body underneath mine.

Her laughing response kickstarts my thoughts again and I shake the dangerous, tempting thoughts away.

"Too true, I certainly won't argue with you there. Don't let me leave without them, though. They're my favourite, despite the pain they cause."

Elle's eyes follow Theo, like she's anxious of being on her own here, as he sets her shoes and coat down in the corner, out of the way, and her eyes eventually catch mine. Surprise flashes through them, then a lighter, brighter emotion I can't quite identify before she seems to push it all down. A tentative smile touches her lips as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Greyson, hi. I didn't know you'd be here."

I shrug, sipping my beer. "Don't mind me, you two seem to be enjoying yourselves, so please, don't let me interrupt. I believe this is the part of the evening where he charms the clothes right off of you, and closes the deal." The vicious, jealous words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and they hang there for a moment. I feel like a first rate bastard when hurt flashes through those beautiful blue eyes, followed immediately by an embarrassed flush over her pale cheeks.

"Fuck you, Grey." Theo's face flushes with equal embarrassment, but also anger as he hisses under his breath. "Not my fault you're too much of a dick to see what's right in front of you. I'm no idiot, I see her for the incredible person she is. Your loss is my gain tonight, and for however long she needs me."

Theo holds a hand out to Elle, amping his charming grin up a few levels. His voice is louder, more for the room's benefit than mine as the stares focus in our direction. "Care for a dance, babe?"

"Only if you think you can keep up with me."

To anyone else, she'd sound like a confident, excited, flirtatious girl. But I hear the false bravado in her voice. I watch her watch me as she lets Theo tug her off the pool table and lead her away.

I can see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes, as surely as I can see that she wants me to ask her to stay. I don't. I remind myself for the thousandth time that she's better off far away from me no matter how much I selfishly want her to stay. I sip my beer, refusing to look away from her, though. My heart pounds against my chest as if fighting the actions and decisions my brain makes.

Once she's out of sight, I take my first full breath since I'd seen her and blow it out into the neck of the beer bottle at my lips.

"That 'the' girl, who's tangled my boy up in knots? For such a small package, she seems to pack a punch, man. Not your usual type. Doesn't seem like you're interested anymore though."

I'm not your fucking boy, Max. Part of me wants tor remind him. The other part of me takes comfort in his familiar, uncomplicated, no-expectations presence. Eyeing him over the bottle, I sip, but don't say anything.

Chiara twirls her long hair around a finger, then leans in to kiss the corner of Max's lips. "She's a bit timid, not much to her. I don't see what all the fuss is about personally, but if you believe the stuff going around school..." Chiara trails off suggestively and I grit my teeth, knowing they both want some kind of reaction out of me. It would make their game more interesting to them.

"She doesn't hold a candle to you, babe. Isn't that right, Grey?" While Chiara just glows from his careless compliment, he seems to take my silence as signal to continue with his private game of twenty questions. "She dating Harding?"

I shrug, then grit my teeth as Max continues to have the conversation even without my participation. "Sure looked that way. If she's into Harding, then I bet she's into a lot of things. When he's bored with her—"

My body reacts without the consent of my brain. One second I'm sipping beer, ignoring Max, the prick and the next, my hand is fisted in his shirt, and I've hauled him across the sofa up close to my face.

"Don't touch her, don't look at her, don't think about her." I stare him down, looking into his dilated, bloodshot eyes that clearly show he's had too much booze, too much weed. I know I don't look any better, but that's just another reason I'm staying away from her.

Chiara quickly gets between us, placing a palm on each of our shoulders, used to our physical altercations by now, since Max and I can barely stand one another. Before she can say anything, Max's hands lift in surrender and I release him, then settle back on the sofa. "You got some kind of claim on her? It's not like Harding will make one, or has one, everyone knows that, at least."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'd given Max and Chiara exactly what they'd been looking for. A reaction. I put my temper on ice for the moment and knock back another shot.

I chase it with my beer, continuing to ignore Max as Chiara fusses around him, throwing death glares in my direction. Eventually, more people join us on and around the large, leather sectional sofa. I catch glimpses of Elle through the night. She's either tucked between Theo, Hud, and Ryan, or dancing with Vi, the spirited Greek looking goddess next to her. Mads, and Jules are with them, off to the side, dancing. But it's the vision of Elle dancing with Vi that pulls at me. They look ridiculous in the sea of girls dancing as sensually, and sexily as possible. Elle and Vi are simply dancing for pure enjoyment.

Some guy I don't know approaches them, and I stiffen, waiting for Hud or Theo to intervene, only to relax when Vi pulls him into a little three-way dance, and he awkwardly joins them. His hands and body carefully avoid prolonged contact with Elle, lucky for him. I watch this unknown guy for a little longer, noticing how he carefully avoids touching anyone except Vi, even in the most casual of ways. I frown, wondering who is is and how he fits into the group.

I sit, like a voyeur, watching her for the next hours. With every twist of her body, every dip in Theo's arms, my hands clench and unclench on the bottle. Everything becomes a blur of drinking, and watching. Of wishing. So I close my eyes against the sight of her, listening vaguely to Max and Chiara. Eventually, Chiara's voice disappears, and I sigh in relief. Max continues to run his personal monologue, taking the non-committal sounds I make as encouragement.

Time seems to float by, and people generally steer clear of me, until I feel a small hand on my knee. At first, it's a soft, tentative stroke, then a small shake and squeeze. I'd know that touch anywhere. No one else would be that gentle with me.

When I open my eyes, she smiles up at me. I stare at her hand for so long, she pulls back, sliding both her hands between her knees as she sits down on the cushions beside me, putting herself between Max and the remaining beer. He reaches around her, brushing against her unnecessarily as he reaches for a bottle.

Elle jolts in surprise, then seems to dismiss him from her immediate concern as he smiles at her, then settles back to sip his beer.

"Greyson, are you okay? Do you want me to take you home or somewhere else?"

I think a few moments go by as I stare at her, it's hard to tell. She doesn't look away, which I find equally entrancing and disconcerting. Why won't she look away? I can practically see her working her courage up to touch me again, and this time, she slides her hand up my the outside of my thigh to link her fingers with my free hand.

But before I can shake away the fogginess from my brain and answer her, a long, strong arm snakes around her waist, and I look up in surprise as Max hauls Elle onto his lap. Her startled gasp is the only sound she makes as she stiffens, then turns to look back at him, her grip on my hand sliding away abruptly.

"Can you please let go? I was talking to Greyson."

Max grins wolfishly at her and I look around for Chiara, relieved when I don't see her. "Nah, I like you just fine here. Grey didn't seem to be talking back, so you can talk to me, or not talk, that's fine too. I'd like to get to know the girl who took the party out of my boy."

Elle falters for a moment, then seems to regain her composure— and her confidence. "Sorry, I might have been unclear out of habit of being polite. Let go, right now. I don't know you, and I don't want to know you if this is any indication of how you treat girls." She pushes a little harder against his chest, and he looks at me curiously, waiting to see what I'll do.

Her sharp response shocks me, and I barely recognize the tone, or the confidence behind the words.

My mind screams at me to yank her off his lap, but I know he's goading me again. He's trying to push a reaction out of me, so he can use it against me. I know if I react, it will only encourage him. It's just the kind of fucked up friend that he is.

My foggy, drink numbed brain is slow to take in the scene before me but I see her confidence begin to waver as he jostles her on his legs, causing her to catch herself against his shoulder for balance, or faceplant into his chest.

"Huh, and here I heard you were a timid, delicate little thing."

She pushes against his chest, harder this time, "Don't believe everything you hear. Let go, right now." They perfectly arched eyebrow she raises at me might look dainty and questioning to anyone watching her, but I can see the anger in her eyes that I haven't stepped in to help her. I know that anger is directed mostly at me, right now. Maybe a bit at Max, sure, but that look is meant for me.

Hud and Theo's voices precede them down the stairs by mere seconds as I try to charge by numb body up to do something.

Theo immediately sets his beer aside, slapping Hud's shoulder as he catches sight of Elle on the sofa.

As the two of them approach, their faces darken with concern looking between me, Max, and Elle with a frown. "Everything okay here?"

"It will be once Greyson's friend lets go of me." The way she enunciates friend makes her sound extra sassy. I like this new, assertive side to her. I like how she tries to boss Max around, even though he isn't listening.

"Max, let go." Theo's voice is soft, quiet, but everyone hears him.

Max immediately raises both hands in surrender and Elle takes Theo's hand as he starts to pull her off the sofa. Just as I start to relax, Max's palm connects with a loud slap on Elle's ass as she climbs up and over the armrest, and he immediately starts to laugh. For the first time, the anger flashing through me drives me to react, although I'm not entirely sure how it happened.

In the next second, I'm standing with an extremely surprised Elle cradled against my chest, one of my arms banding her to me, the other holding Max down against the cushions by his throat.

I stand there, heaving for a moment, wondering what the fuck I'm supposed to do with her now. What I'm supposed to do with Max.

Hud grabs my forarm quickly, forcing me to release my hold on Max, but when Max moves to grab his beer from where it lay propped precariously against the cushions, Hud shoves him back into the cushions, spilling beer from the open bottle as he crashes back. "Seriously? Apologize, man. That was way out of line."

It feels like the whole room goes quiet, right between songs, at the same time Hud raises his voice. Brady finally steps up to see what the latest commotion seems to be about. He hovers on the outside of the group for only a moment.

Max only shrugs, and sips his beer, slurping rudely at the foam spilling over his hand.

"Let's just all go. Come on, Hudson, it's not worth making a big deal over." Elle's voice floats over all of us, in that quiet, reassuring way of hers, and even though her cheeks are flaming red, she just places a gentle, soothing hand on my chest, then looks a little desperately into my eyes, as if searching for something.

I have no idea if she finds it, but she turns her attention to Hudson and Theo in the next breath.

"Yeah, it is worth it. Apologize for putting your hands on her, or I'll put my hands on you and see how you like it." Hudson takes a step away from Elle and I, using his height and superior position over Max to intimidate him.

My body aches to pull her closer, but I also know I need to get some distance.

As Brady takes in the situation, he puts a large hand on Max's shoulder before he can say something else that will piss Hud and Theo off. Brandy knows Hud well enough, and seems to respect him.

"Apologize, Maxie. Don't be a dick."

"Aw, c'mon Brady. It's just a little harmless fun." Max grins, his words slurring just slightly. After a moment, he holds his hands up again in surrender when Brady's hard look doesn't waver. Max turns to Hud with a casual apology. "Sorry, man. Won't happen again."

Brady shakes his shoulder roughly and the whites of his knuckle pop out a bit as he tightens his grip. "Not to him you idiot. To her."

Max winces slightly, then rolls his eyes out of Brady's line of sight before repeating the half-assed apology in Elle's general direction.

When Hud turns to me, his green eyes are burning with barely banked anger. "Have anything to say?"

Not in the mood for any of the well-deserved guilt trip he surely has to pile on me, I boost Elle up in my arms, wobblier than I'd like, but this time I use my barely superior height against his now. "Nope." I exaggerate this, popping the 'p' to annoy him. "If I'd had something to say, I would have said it."

I toss Elle unceremoniously in Hudson's direction, and she barely manages to suck in a surprised yelp as she flies through the air momentarily until Hudson manages to catch her small body before she crashes down to the floor.

Fuck. I'm beyond screwed. There may not be a force in the world to keep me from her, but I refuse to be the one responsible for dragging her through a darkness she may not ever recover from. Because I'm not even sure I'll get through it.

I shoulder my way past Brady, muttering to him on my way by and grabbing the half-empty bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes. "I need some fucking air. And another Goddamn drink. I'll be on the guest terrace. Alone."

Glancing only once at Elle, I walk past a very surprised Theo, as well as her dumbstruck friends, and make my way to the through the house for some much-needed distance and cold, fresh air to clear my head.

- - -

Thanks so much for being patient with me while I've been a bit slow with updates! My new updating schedule for  A Promise and A Lie will be 1-2 new chapters every 10 days - 2 weeks.

Please let me know what you think of the chapter and the story so far! If you're loving it, please consider voting! I love hearing your comments and seeing whether you're enjoying the work - it really encourages and motivates me, so thank you- especially to everyone who reached out this week to encourage me to get back to it!

A very BIG thank you to eim1993 for helping me get over the creative block this week! I am SO lucky and thankful for your encouragement and support!

Xx Toria