Just as Mia thought that her life had moved onto a new chapter that didn't involve Grayson, a handwritten letter from Grayson himself threw everything into a frenzy.
With a choice between beginning a new life free from Grayson's dark world or subme...
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MIA
New York is the perfect, chaotic concrete jungle that I always imagined it would be.
Endless rows of skyscrapers break into the clouds, while swarms of citizens meander down sidewalks, into buildings and over crosswalks. Food stalls seem to pop up out of nowhere and the magnitude of vehicles that appear to follow no logical driving system just about whirs up the brazen thrill inside of me.
I already love this place.
The city that never sleeps.
And I would be lying if I didn't admit to myself how the sheer thrill of being here has been amplified by a thousand simply because I'm here with him.
Grayson. Who has his eyes on me yet again through the rear view mirror.
I could tell if he was smiling, but he isn't. He's simply studying me and working out what I'm thinking; what's clouding my eyes that are surely giving away everything right now.
But I need to stop worrying. I have to because worry is the last thing I need right now. When I'm home, I'll worry about everything and everyone again.
"And here you are," the young man says from the driver seat, thanking Grayson as he hands him several notes of cash. But just as I prepare to exit the vehicle I suddenly remember that I didn't even bring any dollars with me.
Oh fuck.
It's safe to say that this trip has been one of the most disorganised of my life.
I thank the driver and head outside, ignoring the harsh chills of the city as they whip against my cheeks. When the cab leaves us at the edge of the sidewalk, I sigh and turn straight to Grayson.
"Thank you for paying." I briefly look to the ground and then back to Grayson who is already showcasing a smug grin. "I forgot to actually bring money with me."
Grayson remains quiet for a few beats, to tantalise me I'm sure, and then pats me firm on the shoulder. "It's alright pal. I've got you covered."
I go to answer but Grayson is already on his heel and is marching into the lobby of a red brick-built building.
Pal? I play the word in my mind over and over. Pal?
Is this really what we're doing now?
Shaking my head, I grab my bags and follow, not missing the stretches of vinery that dance across the exterior and the wooden shutter blinds that mark barriers between bedrooms and the great city.
