🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.55.

Pure terror was making it difficult to pick up my cell phone to call the cops. I dove to pick it up off the floor, only to accidentally kick my cell phone with my toe to send it skittering across the floor. 

Whoever was at Rebecca's door was fixing to break it down and I was playing keep-away with myself like some kind of demented cat with a laser.

"Isla?" Gray's insistent tone rose over the rattle of the door. "Isla?"

"How did you get in the building?" I approached it with caution, secretly relieved that Elijah (or a random murderer) hadn't just shown up to put the cherry on top of my supremely awful week.

"Your neighbor was coming home from the grocery store," he replied, ceasing his assault on the thin wood door. "She let me in, no questions asked. This building has terrible security by the way."

"No shit," I muttered.

"Isla? Please open the door," I couldn't place the emotion in Gray's voice, but it felt like I was being scolded. "Please? I just want to talk to you."

I finally relinquished and reached for the deadbolt.

There he stood, all six foot three inches of tall, dark, and devilishly handsome, Gray. 

It had only been a few days and yet I was still struck by how effortlessly gorgeous he was. Which was a stark contrast to all five foot four inches of short, schlubby (and slightly bloated) me.

His apprehensive expression was swathed in a charcoal woolen scarf tucked into the structured lapel of his jacket.

"Isla," he implored, my name on his lips tightened his eyes. "What's going on?"

Gray's ruddy face was lined with concern and he was breathing as if he'd just run a mile. His rheumy eyes bore into me, staring into my core. 

"I don't think we should have this conversation right now," I whispered.

"What conversation?"

Gray wasn't going to let it go and I wasn't prepared to say the things I needed to say. 

"Isla?" Gray's face became drawn and dreadful. "What? Conversation?" 

My heart throbbed painfully like I'd squashed it inside one of my books. I owed him nothing, but for myself, and for everything else I'd been through in the last two months, I needed to be honest.

"The one where I tell you this isn't working out," I whispered through the tremble in my throat.

Gray took two steps back, physically recoiling from my words.

"No," Gray shook his head as if he'd heard me wrong, too discombobulated to make sense of what I'd just done. "Isla, wait, what happened?"

"I just, I can't trust you," I shrugged haplessly as a few tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Why?" Gray demanded in a low and gravelly voice that got my hackles up.

"You have so many secrets," a tiny voice inside my head was screaming to ask about the blonde. To throw it in his face that I knew what a man-whore he was. That this time I wasn't going to fall for the same lines, but I was stumbling to get the words out. "I can't be with another liar, Gray."

Comparing him to Elijah was an invisible blow, one that made him stumble back another step. Gray's beautiful eyes were wide and sad and hurt. So very hurt. Like I'd asked to kiss his hand and then sliced off his fingers instead.

"I wish I could tell you about my son," he pushed out a wobbly breath, trying to undo what I'd already done. "I wish I could be open about our situation, but Isla, I can't."

He swallowed once and shoved a hand through his styled hair, unbothered that he ruined its careful shape. Gray's features were hardening into a scowl, one that made him resemble a gargoyle resigned to its solitary keep.

"This isn't about your son," my brows arched as I tipped my chin.

Gray searched his memory. He genuinely had no clue that I would be upset about him dating (or screwing) other women while he was professing to have feelings for me. It was just proof positive that we weren't compatible.

"Then what?" He pleaded, bringing his hands up to beseech me. "What did I do?"

"You didn't contact me for days," I laid it out, speaking slowly to ensure that I didn't cry or cede any more of my dignity. "You just disappeared with no explanation or even a call." 

"Isla," he breathed. "I can explain-"

"I saw you, Gray!" I shut him down and cut him off. "I saw you this morning walking a very pretty young lady to her very fancy car, very early in the morning. And yes, I know it sounds like I was following you, or I sat and watched your house like some crazy person, but I was jogging, just FYI."

Gray's expression morphed into astonishment, then, good-natured humor, which made me angry enough to explode. My entire body, even my hair, was being consumed by the fire of my thwarting.

"Isla, baby," he started, "Please, I can explain-"

"No!" I shouted. "I'm tired of men trying to explain away their behavior. I'm tired of feeling like I'm the last to know that the man I'm-"

My voice broke. I'd almost said the man I'm in love with, which would have scared the hell out of both of us.

"That the person I'm dating is screwing other people," I finished pointedly. "I'm just asking for common decency. Like, I don't know, maybe tell me whether or not you plan on being inside any other people this week!"

"I don't," he replied quickly, his face suddenly dead serious. "I don't want to be with anyone else, or inside them. Isla-"

"Stop!" I held up a hand to silence his sweet-talking. "I don't want to hear it, Gray. You don't get to just drop out of my life for a couple of days to date someone else. You said it yourself, this isn't a sustainable friendship model! I have to be able to trust you. You more than anyone should understand why." 

"I do understand, Isla," he rushed to speak. "I know it's really hard to trust anyone after what you've been through. I'm so sorry that my actions hurt your feelings. And yes, what you saw this morning looked bad, but if I had seen you, I would have introduced you both. In fact, I'd really like to tell you who she is, if and when, you're willing to talk to me."

Maybe we peaked early. Maybe I just ended my first rebound. Maybe Gray had a perfectly logical explanation for walking a gorgeous woman to her car so early in the morning. No matter what, the story would always end with me getting hurt.

"We're too different, you and I," I answered bleakly as I shook my head and closed the door. My heart splintered with every creak of the hinges. "We're not going to work, Gray."

The jagged shards of my fractured heart pushed their way into my bloodstream, nicking arteries and veins with tiny lacerations that added up to a dazzling pain emanating from my chest.  

"How do you know that if you won't give us a chance?" He challenged, kneading his mouth with an inked hand.

"I really wanted to," I sighed against the burning sensation in my lungs.

I didn't wait to see his reaction, so I shut the door and bolted it.