"I'm just glad to be able to call you my boyfriend again."

Amelia whispers into Grayson's neck. All I can see is the back of her head, and it moves up and down as she kisses his collarbone. My stomach flops like a fish out of water and with the dryness of my lips, I feel like one too.

Again, she had said... and the memories creep back.

Amelia and Grayson were once an item, a dynamic duo, that one popular couple that everyone envies. After the break up, no one dared to talk about it because angering Grayson is bad news, but angering Amelia? That's a death sentence.

The tiny square mirror is giving me full view of something that's supposed to be private, and I can't shake away my pounding heartbeat.

I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be eavesdropping on something that was never meant for me to see. But I'm like a deer caught in headlights... absolutely frozen.

As Amelia's head deepens into his neck, Grayson's face comes into view. His eyes aren't closed like you'd expect them to be. Instead, they're lowered as they watch the ground, his arms wrapped loosely around her body. My heart skips a beat as his gaze drags across the tiled floor and up the lockers, somehow finding it's way to my reflection in the mirror.

His expression never waivers as he sees me.

Such low, emotionless eyes looking back at me, despite a girl who fiercely loves him sitting in his lap.

His eyes hold mine, and as the seconds pass, my face warms. How can he look at me so casually when a girl like Amelia is giving him all her love?

Under the heat of his gaze, and through pounding heartbeats of embarrassment and shame, I no longer feel frozen.

I'm just about to turn and sneak back the way I came when Grayson's voice fills the room.

"Let's head back to your place."

There's a moment of silence when I can only assume Amelia to be smiling. "I thought you'd never ask."

Grayson stands up, and the tiny square mirror reveals his bare chest with Amelia's hand on it. His jersey is draped over his shoulder as he reaches for something out of view.

I hear a jingle as he tosses her his keys. "I'll meet you in the car."

My eyes widen and I stick against the lockers like glue.

She'll have to pass me in order to get to the exit.

As quietly as possible, I shuffle backwards before rounding a corner. There's a small spot between two lockers that I find myself fitting into snuggly.

Amelia's footsteps echo past me and I sigh as the door to the outside opens and closes, the brief sound of rain coming and going.

In my moment of relief, I almost forget about Grayson.

It's when he finds me in my crevice that I go red in the face all over again. He's in front of me before I can even think of moving, his intimidating presence boxing me in between the two metal lockers. He steps forward and his intentions are clear: I'm not going anywhere.

There's no where to look but up at him.

His glare is full of disapproval.

"You shouldn't be in here."

Out of everything he could've said... he decides to lecture me?

"And Amelia should be?" I scoff.

"That's none of your business." His eyes lower with an emotion slightly south of annoyance and for once, it's actually clear that he is bothered.

"Oh, look! Finally an expression other than distant and unreadable. He actually feels something." I grumble.

There's something extremely nerve-racking about being caged between two immovable objects and a glowering Grayson.

"I feel a lot of things." He snaps at me.

"Anger doesn't count." I scrunch my nose at him.

"Seriously, Maddi." His words are slow. "What if Quintin had been in here instead of me?"

Any impudence I might have been feeling dissipates in a moment of shock.

Is that really what's on Grayson's mind right now?

I straighten my shoulders and look anywhere but at him. "Well... he's not. You are. I only came in to ask—"

"You think you're safe just because it's me?"

A genuine question. No sarcasm or hidden distaste.

His arm outstretches and the palm of his hand presses to the metal beside my head, denying me any sliver of an exit that might've existed.

"You wouldn't try anything with me, Grayson." I shrug at this little act of his. I know he's only trying to test me. "Not after what happened at your house party and how hard we're trying to forget it all. Plus, you're in a relationship now, remember?"

He stares down at me, the corners of his mouth baring no smirk, no grin... nothing.

"Just because a guy doesn't act on their thoughts," he lowers his arm, glaring at me with conflicted eyes. "Doesn't mean he doesn't have them."

There's a softness in his dark features that I haven't seen since the night we stood beneath the light pole, just before he pressed me into his chest. Was he admitting to having thoughts about me?

He's always saying these things... trying to rile me up. Trying to see how much he can get under my skin.

If I'm not careful, I'll overthink his words into madness.

So, instead, I focus on the fact that I need to get back to my best friend who is waiting for me outside in the rain.

"Thanks for the lecture, but I'm a big girl, Grayson. I can handle myself."

After what happened with Quintin, I've learned a valuable lesson— to never let something happen to me that I don't want. Not at the expense of myself, nor Justin who stepped in to help, or Violet who has been my shoulder to weep on.

Grayson doesn't need to tell me what I already know now.

"Big girls don't go into the boys locker room alone like an idiot."

The two metal walls feel like they're closing in on me and the heat coming from Grayson doesn't help. Why is Grayson doing this? I only came in here for a quick moment to ask him for a ride... which is out of the question now because of Amelia.

"What I do doesn't concern you." I attempt to step past him, but he doesn't budge.

"It doesn't concern me? You're living in my room, you're somehow around every corner I turn... even in the boys locker room." He mutters the last part. "If I can't get you out of my life then I at least want you to be safe while you're in it."

There it is again... a hint of warmth just beneath his icy eyes.

And the pounding of my heart that comes with it.

When he says things like that it's as if time slows down and I forget all about the defiance we're supposed to have towards each other; the family feud that has kept us from ever even being friends.

No.

I'm not going to let him affect me like this. Not when my best friend is waiting outside. Not when feeling things for Grayson is the one thing that would hurt her beyond belief.

"Move." I demand up at him.

My body feels hot from head to toe and I'm starting to seriously wonder if I'm claustrophobic. One more minute of being stuck in this corner and I might just overheat.

The way he's looking down at me has me wondering if half of this heat is coming from his eyes alone.

"Make me." His voice is deathly low and his eyes are testing me.

I came into the boys locker room alone, and now he wants to show me what could happen because of it. He wants me to prove to him that I can defend myself.

For a brief moment, flashes of the past hit me like waves crashing ashore.

When we were kids, he would push me, tease me, leave me covered in Band-Aids and sidewalk scratches. And each time, I would get back up twice as strong and determined. What he did back then was rude and intolerable, yet taught me how to stand up for myself.

Through his hardness, I grew thick skin that has served me well.

And yet, I've let Amelia walk all over me. I've allowed for the spreading videos of that party to hurt me more than any push ever could. And worst of all... I folded beneath the touch of a boy I didn't want. I let Quintin breach my boundaries.

And I can see it in Grayson's eyes... just how much that bothers him.

"Quit playing games with me, Grayson." I press my hands against his bare chest in a moment of desperation. When I push him, the only thing that moves is his jersey as it falls from his shoulder.

I can't get enough air, and it doesn't help that Grayson is a door that won't budge.

He grabs my wrists, keeping my hands to his chest as he steps forward even more.

"What are you doing?" My breath hitches and I can feel my clothes beginning to stick to me. A thin layer of sweat blots my brow as I look up at him.

"Handle yourself." He leans in towards me. "You said you could."

I shake my head. How did things end up like this?

"You're not being fair..." I mumble, dropping my eyes to the floor. I struggle against his grip, unable to pull my hands free.

Yet, I know I'm not resisting hard enough— perhaps because I know I don't need to. I know Grayson won't hurt me or come onto me the way Quintin did. Not after how gently he held me under that street light and the distaste he's shown for boys like Quintin.

No matter how far he plans on taking this little "test", I know he won't actually do anything.

My palms remain on Grayson's cool chest and for a moment I almost consider pressing my hot forehead to it. Anything to make this heat go away.

"You said you were a big girl." His face is inches from mine now. "Show me."

"Grayson, I don't know what you want from me." I consider kneeing his junk, just to appease him and show him I can get out of the situation, but the space is so tight I can't even lift my leg.

His forehead presses against my own and his eyes are heavy. They're filled with too many emotions for me to understand— all but one, that is. There's one that I can recognize easily.

I can see it in his eyes when he silently struggles with homework, or practices football in the backyard because the field is occupied by younger teams. His eyes show a quiet, yet resilient frustration. Like he can't quite grasp what's standing before him, like there's a problem he can't solve.

He lifts his forehead from mine and slowly moves to my neck. His lips never touch my skin, like there's a boundary he's making sure not to cross. He speaks into the side of my collarbone. "I want you to be able to stop the things you don't want."

The heat that overwhelms me now isn't because of the metal walls or tight space, it's from the closeness of a forbidden boy that should never be this close to begin with.

The heat comes from the depths of my heart and the spiraling of my mind. Waking up next to Grayson was the worst thing that could've ever happened to either of us, and yet it's undeniable that it's only tugged us closer to one another.

A few months ago I barely existed to Grayson outside of the 'you're my annoying step-sisters bestfriend' label. I'd get a glance in the hallway of his house, a judgmental comment, or a snarky remark from time to time.

Something changed... for better or worse.

"Are you going to stop me?" He whispers and it almost feels like in the depths of his question... that he's asking me for permission to keep going.

For a split second, with the heat going straight to my head, I wonder the most dangerous thought of all:

What if I don't want him to stop?

"Tell me to stop." His words come out with a hint of frustration.

Whether I'm completely and utterly flustered by Grayson, or I truly am claustrophobic... the burning butterflies in my stomach muzzle me.

It's only when his lips just barely brush against the dark circle left by Quintin that I nearly crumble to the ground.

"S-stop." I say just to appease him.

When he steps back, the darkness in his eyes isn't frustration anymore, it's something much more serious. Like the look your parents give you when you've done something wrong.

"Say it like you mean it and I will." He is leaning back in.

"I do mean it!" My words come out as a weak attempt at confidence and the crack in my voice doesn't help.

My hands catch his face just before he leans in completely.

We stand there in unison, my palms cupping his face, my thumbs hovering overtop his lips.

And then after a quiet moment... his serious composure cracks into a smile.

Not a smirk, nor grin, but a smile.

And it's like we're the only ones who exist, not only in this tiny, little corner of the locker room, but in the entire world. There's no labels here, no social status. No disapproving friends or family, no watchful, judgmental eyes.

It's just me and him under the dingy lights of an old, school building.

My eyes drop to his lips and I watch the corners of his smile twitch.

And I find myself leaning in.

Raising to my tippy toes.

My lips reaching for the warmth of his smile.

Grayson stills, and in my peripheral vision, I see the way he watches me.

He looks at me through low lashes, and the way his eyes are full of conflict tells me everything I need to know. Regardless of what he's feeling... he feels something.

It's in the slight twitch in his brow, the tensing of his jaw, the gaze that settles on my lips. He's looking at me the way he should've been looking at Amelia.

Happiness looks good on him, and it makes me deny everything logical.

Out of all people, it makes me want him.

He doesn't try to stop me.

Instead, he gives me the choice to completely uproot everything we've ever known. A choice to end our life-long feud and to begin something utterly irreversible between us. A choice that would morally ruin just about everything.

Despite it all, my lips fall open as they near his.

It's your turn to stop me, I want to say.

When he realizes— against all logic— that I'm about to kiss him, his hands find my hips. Whether it's to guide me or to keep me at a distance... it doesn't matter because the doors to the locker room swing open.

I nearly jump out of my skin, but Grayson holds me firmly.

Grayson snaps out of the situation quicker than me. With his hands on my hips, he steps into me, deepening us into the crevice as two pairs of laughter and footsteps ignite the room. Somehow, we both manage to fit into the tight space.

A locker just around the corner pops open and my phone vibrates underneath Grayson's palm. It must be Violet texting me about what's taking so long.

I squeeze his forearms.

She's been waiting outside in the cold rain while I've been stuck in a warm trance with her step-brother. The only person in this entire world who she asked me to never mess with.

And while I haven't necessarily done anything, I was about to...

I was seriously about to do something.

Hot tears build in my eyes and I think it's my body trying to cool down more than anything.

The locker to our right slams shut and the two boys laugh their way out of the locker room.

Every inch of me burns, yet I manage to straighten myself out.

When I look up, Grayson's not smiling anymore, in fact, he's the one who steps away from me first. He doesn't even look at me as he leans down to grab his jersey and turns to gather the rest of his belongings.

That split second of bliss that we were caught in is gone and I'm left wondering if it even really happened.

"Grayson?" I hesitantly step out of the crevice and around the corner.

"You have an interesting way of telling someone to stop." His voice is coarse and he begins shoving his clothes into his gym bag after pulling a fresh shirt over his head.

He told me to stop him... and I tried to kiss him.

Tried. I didn't, though.

I didn't completely and utterly fuck everything up. Yet.

A wave of shame washes over my body.

What am I doing?

He has a girlfriend now, and regardless of if she's the queen of bitches or not... that's no excuse. I don't want to be that kind of person.

Even if he didn't have a girlfriend... there's still so much wrong with what I tried to do. I mean, it's Grayson.

I attempt to rub my face away. To erase myself from existence.

Doesn't work.

(Will try again tomorrow).

His coldness creeps back. "I hope that's not how you told Quintin to stop."

The rain pelts the metallic roof.

"That's a new low... even for you." My heart squeezes and my eyes lower.

He swings his bag over his shoulder and turns towards me— or the way to the exit. I decide to be the first one to leave, so I'm already heading towards the door as he speaks.

"It's better this way." There's no warmth in his voice . "Easier for the both of us."

"How is you being mean easier for me?" I don't bother looking back.

Just as I'm about to open the door to the lockeroom, it swings open, and out of everyone that could be walking in, it's Justin.

While I find myself frozen in every sense of the meaning, Grayson passes behind me. He pauses and leans down to my ear, the tips of his dark hair tickling my cheek.

From the corner of my eye, I notice that he isn't focused on me at all, but rather Justin, who is stilled with a wet towel in his hand, watching us with a furrowed brow.

The two boys watch each other and the tension in the air has me forgetting to breathe.

Grayson's lips graze my ear in a way that sends a shiver down my spine as he whispers so that only I can hear.

"Because it'll keep anything from ever happening between us again."

And just like that, he leaves me beneath the dingy lights of a locker room I should've never entered— alone with a boy who looks completely, and utterly, confused.

*****