Never Have I Ever- STEPHANIE ALVES

Unanswered questions (Rosalie)

My eyes drift open, adjusting to the light coming from the window. I look around, trying to figure out where the hell I am. A groan comes from my side, and I turn my head, seeing Grayson lying beside me. A smile forms on my face when I think of the day we had yesterday. Our adventure together. I came to him looking for him to lose my virginity, and he's done that, so shouldn't we have ended it by now? He's shown me a lot. How to live life dangerously, how it feels to feel truly alive, and that's all I ever wanted. But being here with him is all I want now. I want to wake up with him more often. I want him to surprise me with adventures and lessons where I can spend the whole day with him and end the way we did yesterday. I want more time with him. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and curse when I see the time. I'm going to be late for class. I still need to get home and shower and get ready and— "Hey." I turn, seeing Grayson laying on his stomach, his face propped up on his arm as he smiles at me. "Hey," I say back, sitting up and trying to find my clothes from yesterday. "Are you in a rush to get out of here or something?" He asks, sitting up on the bed.I shake my head, still looking for my clothes that he threw across the room yesterday. "No, I'm just late for class." He sighs. "Just stay here. You can skip class one day, Rosie." I turn to face him. "I already skipped class multiple times. I don't want to be behind on my assignments." "I'll do them for you," he says, his eyes drifting down my body, which makes me very aware of the fact that I'm standing in his room buck naked. I snort out a laugh. "I don't think you're used to doing the kind of assignments I have." He shrugs. "I'll figure it out. C'mon, come back to bed." I spot my tank top near his dresser and pick it up, pulling it over my head. "Don't you have class?" He stands from the bed now while I continue looking for my clothes. "Yeah, so?" I squint my eyes, turning to face him. My eyes immediately drift down to his crotch, where he's sporting an erection. I lick my lips. "I can't have a serious conversation with you when you're naked. Put some clothes on." "Or," he says, approaching me and tugging at the tank top. "You can get naked and stay in bed with me." I shake my head. "Clothes." He groans and steps back. "Fine," he says, picking out a pair of boxers and throwing another to me. He gets dressed while I put on his boxers, and then he crosses his arms. "Go on, talk." "You're smart," I start. "It's obvious you're good at school, Grayson. Why don't you go to class?" His jaw clenches. "Because I don't want to." "That's not the answer I was looking for." He shrugs. "That's the answer I'm going to give you." I squint my eyes at him. "Why are you here then?" I ask. "Your mother is Emily Livingston, for crying out loud. If your parents are rich, why do you need money?" I see his jaw clench again, and he drops his arms, turning around and heading to the bathroom, avoiding my question. "Grayson," I say, trailing after him. "Go to class, Rosie," he tells me.I don't want to go to class. Not now. Not when he's about to finally tell me something real about himself. Ever since he told me about selling assignments, I've been racking my brain as to why he would need to. His tuition is probably paid off, and his parents probably gave him money, so why? "I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." He shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. "Why are you doing this? I don't owe you anything. We aren't together." I flinch, stepping back from him. I know that. He hasn't stopped saying it. But it doesn't stop me from wanting to get to know him, to know everything about him. "Just tell me," I whisper. "I'll leave right after. I promise. Just tell me." I knew this had to end sometime, and it sounds like Grayson's already there. I don't want to be a burden on him, I just want to know him. He sighs, dropping his head forward. "Because I want to get out of here," he finally says. I scrunch my brows, waiting for him to continue. "My tuition is paid, but I don't have any money. You have a trust fund, right?" I nod. "Mine comes with stipulations. I only get access to it once I graduate." That makes sense, I guess. Most parents wouldn't want their child to get their hands on money and blow it before they even turn twenty-one because they have no idea what to do with it. "I get where they're coming from," I tell him. "If you don't know how money works—" He snorts. "I was doing my uncle's taxes by the time I was ten. I've always understood the value of money, how people don't have what we did growing up. That wasn't the problem." "Then what was the problem?" "Drugs." I frown. "Drugs?" He nods, dropping his head. "My parents think I'm a drug addict, so they don't want me to have access to money because they think I'll shoot up." He lifts his head and looks at me. "The reason I sell assignments is because, if I ever want to leave this shit hole before I graduate, then I need money." He lifts off the sink and turns his body to face me. "I'm not asking for a million dollars or anything. I don't want that life. I want to start oversomewhere new." He shrugs. "Open a garage of my own and work on cars. Away from everything and everyone I know." I bite my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I have a trust fund, I have financial freedom, and he wants that. "I don't want to be near my parents," he continues. "If I graduate and accept the money from them, I will always have ties attached to them, and I don't want that." "I get that," I tell him. I understand what it's like to be a part of that life. You feel entitled to do anything that they ask of you because you took their money. I took their trust and still feel indebted to my mother, which is why I attended that event and talked to the guy she was trying to set me up with. "Why do your parents think you're a drug addict?" I remember him being so adamant about not taking drugs, and he made me promise I would never do it again. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now that he's mentioned it, it gnaws at me. He groans, wiping a hand down his face, and heads into the shower. "Go to class, Rosie." That's all I'm getting from him, it seems. I don't know what to think when he shuts the bathroom door, and I hear running water a minute later. I find my jeans and tug them on, picking up my stuff and heading out of his place