𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘//𝐁.𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Kiss me damn it!

I implore her, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by her. I'm staring at Anastasia Grey's mouth, mesmerized, and she's looking down at me, her gaze hooded, her eyes darkening. She's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether.

I'm in your arms. Kiss me, please.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of her head as if in answer to my silent question. When she opens her eyes again, it's with some new purpose, a steely resolve.

"Billie, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the woman for you," She whispers. What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown, and my head swims with rejection. "Breathe, Billie, breathe. I'm going to stand you up and let you go," She says quietly, and she gently pushes me away.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity to Anastasia, leaving me wired and weak.

NO! my psyche screams as she pulls away, leaving me bereft. She has her hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, carefully watching my reactions. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and she didn't do it.

She doesn't want me. She really doesn't want me. I have royally screwed up the coffee morning.

"I've got this," I breathe, finding my voice. "Thank you," I mutter, awash with humiliation. How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? I need to get away from her.

"For what?" She frowns. She hasn't taken her hands off me.

"For saving me," I whisper.

"That idiot was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?" She releases me, her hands by her sides, and I'm standing in front of her feeling like a fool.

With a shake, I clear my head. I just want to go. All my vague, unarticulated hopes have been dashed. She doesn't want me. What was I thinking? I scold myself. What would Anastasia Grey want with you? my subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself and turn to face the road and note with relief that the green man has appeared. I quickly make my way across, conscious that Grey is behind me.

Outside the hotel, I turn briefly to face her but cannot look her in the eye.

"Thanks for the tea and doing the photo shoot," I murmur."Billie ... I ..." She stops, and the anguish in his voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly up at her. Her brown eyes are bleak as she runs her hand through her hair. She looks torn, frustrated, her expression stark, all her careful control has evaporated.

"What, Anastasia?" I snap irritably after she says ... nothing. I just want to go. I need to take my fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health.

"Good luck with your exams," She murmurs. Huh? This is why she looks so desolate? This is the big sendo? Just to wish me luck in my exams?

"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice. "Good-bye, Ms. Grey." I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don't trip, and without giving her a second glance, I disappear down the sidewalk toward the underground garage. Once underneath the dark, cold concrete of the garage with its bleak uorescent light, I lean against the wall and put my head inmy hands.

What was I thinking? Unforbidden and unwelcome tearspool in my eyes. Why am I crying? I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up my knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am.