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He pushes himself off the truck and slams the hood. I don't have time to prepare myself before his hand grabs my hip and pulls me to him, leaving a small step between us. He finally meets my eyes again and inhales deeply through his nose.
"I'm sorry you were there for that. I should have never brought you," he murmurs, the brown of his eyes deep, melted chocolate as they twinkle under the parking lot lights. I place my hand on his chest and slowly drag it upward until his strong jaw rests in the palm of my hand. The warm skin stings my cold fingers as they rub over a long scar hiding in the overgrown stubble.
Questions pop up in my brain, demanding to be asked and answered as I stare at him, hoping he'll tell me what I want to know. His lips part and Adam's apple bobs. For a moment I think that he’s about to tell me everything, but he shakes his head and says, "Let's get in the truck."
My heart drops to my feet when he brushes me off and moves towards his door without sparing me a second look.
I was so freaking close.
After a silent half-hour truck ride, Tyler pulls up in front of my towering apartment building. The quiet, droning rap song plays from the speakers, but provides no sense of comfort. We both sit awkwardly in our seats, neither of us wanting to make the first move. I peer out the window and watch the groups of people walking down the sidewalk, most of them carrying expensive purses or wearing designer suits. A wave of nausea rolls over me and I grip my knee. Since when did I become a girl that lives in a penthouse, pretending I'm not a broke dance teacher using my brother's money to stay afloat?
"You okay?" Tyler asks quietly, turning to face me.
I nod my head and pull my hand away from my knee before brushing an invisible hair away from my face. "Are you?"
"They didn't used to be like that," he sighs, gripping the steering wheel. "My mom and River, I mean."
I raise my brow and turn my body towards him with my hands in my lap. "I didn't think they did," I whisper.
He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes out a harsh breath. "He ruined us. Allen is the reason we all struggle with addiction. He forced that on us. We didn't choose it. "
I stare at him, head tilted and confusion running rampant in my mind. Addictions? With Allen, it's clear to see, but everyone else? Not so much.
He must sense my confusion because he quickly blurts out an explanation. "River can't go a day without a bag of white dust in his suit pocket, and my mom can't sleep at night without draining an entire bottle of Vodka."
My lips part and my jaw drops slightly, his words taking me by surprise.
"Looks can be deceiving, I know," he chuckles darkly. His gaze is fixed on the trees lining the painted road in front of us.
"Where does that leave you then? What's your so-called addiction?" I ask curiously. My skin flares when he turns and locks his eyes with mine, my heart thrashing against my bones, blood thumping away in my veins.
"You, Gray. I think I'm addicted to you."
