Shattered Asylum

Chapter 82

It's been a week since Grayson finally opened up to me, a week since that raw moment where he let me in, let me see him at his most vulnerable. And to be honest? I thought it would feel different by now. But it Doesn't.

Kristina and Ethan left a few days ago, and I never really got a chance to have that talk with Kristina. Not that I care to be in the same room as her right now anyway. I just... ugh, I don't know what to feel about it.

But what I do know is that ever since that conversation with Grayson's parent's, things have been... weird. Grayson and I haven't done anything even remotely sexual. And when I say "nothing," I mean nothing.

We haven't even kissed. Not because we don't want to... oh, we definitely want to... but every time we so much as look at each other for too long, someone shows up.

I swear, it's like this house has hormone detecting motion sensors. We'll be sitting on the couch, knees barely touching, and suddenly his mom "forgets" how to work the dishwasher and needs his help. Or his dad absolutely must check the thermostat in the living room, like it's a life or death situation.

At this point, it's not that we're avoiding each other, it's that we're being hunted by some intimacy policing force of nature.

I'm convinced the second our bodies generate even the faintest flicker of sexual tension, his parent's spidey senses start tingling.

And then... boom. Someone's knocking. Or barging in. Or yelling from downstairs like the house is on fire.

We are living in a very specific kind of horror movie: No peace. Privacy? Never met her. And sex? She packed her bags and ghosted us days ago.

The only thing helping us get through is... phone sex. I know. Gross.

But that's the only way we can be "intimate."

A flashback to the other night plays in my head, a notification popping up on my phone.

Grayson.

I open the video, my body instantly tingling as his hand rests on his bare chest, indenting his skin slightly. He slowly trails it down, breathing hard as he does. The video cuts off right at his V-line, but I can tell what he's doing, his hand moving up and down, fast, deliberate.

I shake my head, snapping out of it.

To distract myself, I've been throwing myself into my homework. It's the only thing I can focus on right now, even though my mind keeps wandering. I've even spent a bit of time online, scrolling through random stuff to pass the time. Not that it helps much. Everything feels... off.

I don't know why, but there's another week long break coming up. I only have three more days of "school" left before I'm free for a whole week, which feels kind of weird.

It's like I should be excited, but it just feels like more time for me to think about everything, Grayson, Kristina, my family, school... And I don't know if I'm ready for that.

Speaking of family, my mom's at it again. Blowing up my phone like I won't notice if she uses a new number every time. I block one, she finds another. I swear she has an endless supply of burner phones just waiting for their moment.

Now, every time a random number flashes across my screen, my stomach drops. I already know it's her. Doesn't matter if it says "Unknown" or has some area code I've never seen before, somehow, I just know.

And every time... I get a little closer to answering.

I don't know why. Curiosity? Hope? Some twisted need to hear her voice and pretend, for half a second, that it won't end the same way it always does.