Toxic Girl

Chapter Ten

I sigh dramatically when I see a missed call from my sister, London. I have no idea what she could possibly be calling about, so I put off returning her call. I love my sister, but I don’t necessarily like her. Truth be told, she’s the reason I have this huge debt. It’s her debt. She borrowed the money from an ex-boyfriend of hers and when my sister left, refusing to pay him back, he threatened to hurt her. He came over to our house looking for her, and I was with her. It wasn’t pretty. He trashed the house and verbally abused the shit out of her. She tried to hit him in return, and he slapped her across the face. He was lifting his fist to punch her when I jumped on him and screamed that I would get him the money.

Luckily, he said he liked me enough to allow me to pay him back in instalments. Apparently, it pays to be nice to one of your sister’s many men. The debt started out at twenty thousand dollars, and is now down to ten. Half to go. I should feel proud of myself, but I don’t. I just feel tired, and I want everything over and done with.

I strut toward the private dance booth, hating this part of the night. It sucks that it’s also the part where I make the most money. “Hypnotize” by Gemini plays as I dance for a gentleman dressed in a suit. He probably came here straight after work. I step closer to him, pulling down the straps of my baby doll dress. He pulls me closer, trying to get me to straddle him. “No touching,” I tell him, my tone sharp.

“Oh, come on, I’ll make it worth your while,” he slurs, his eyes staring at my breasts greedily.

It doesn’t matter how much he offers me, I won’t be crossing this line. I shake my head. “No touching,” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender, and then tells me to turn around and continue dancing. I do as I’m told, hating every second of it. Finally, the song ends, and I exhale in relief. However, as he stands up he pushes me up against the wall, his hardness rubbing against my ass. “That’s it,” he croons. I elbow him in the stomach, and then stick my head out of the door, signalling the bouncer on duty. He quickly comes in, and I tell him what happened. He grabs the man and escorts him out. I lean back against the wall, breathing heavily, my pulse racing.

Yeah, I can’t wait until I can turn my back on Snow forever.

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Grayson asks from next to me, sounding exasperated. I’m sitting at my lunch spot. It’s been a week since we last spoke properly, and not from his lack of trying. He sent me three bouquets of flowers, stopped by my house with food, and walked me home after classes. I haven’t said more than a few lines to him in all that time, mainly ‘no thanks’ and ‘why are you still here?’ He’s really making this hard. I’ve wanted to forgive him on many occasions, but for some reason I’m not willing to let him in. It’s easier in the long run if we end this—whatever it is we had. I shrug at his question and stare straight ahead. “How long do you expect me to chase after you, Paris?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“So you don’t care if I go out with another woman?” he asks, his voice a little strained. The thought physically hurts, but I don’t show him any weakness. If he wants to do that then go ahead. That means he wasn’t meant for me anyway.

“You can do what you want, Grayson,” I say without emotion.

He curses. “All this because I went away for a few days without telling you? Do I have to report to you or something?” he snaps.

Wow. Taken aback, I turn to look at him. “That’s not it, and you know it,” I grit, my jaw clenched. “But if you’re going to be an asshole, then please just leave.”

“Well, you won’t let me talk to you about it, so I can’t even explain,” he says, looking frustrated. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but feel like he has a guilty air about him. Am I going crazy? I don’t want to turn into one of those women who questions everything their man does because deep down they know that they can’t trust him. Yeah—that’s never going to be me.

“Paris, I’m sorry,” he says, his dark brown eyes pleading. My gaze lowers to his mouth. I haven’t seen his dimples since the night we almost made love. I miss them—like fucking crazy.

“Okay, I’m listening,” I say, looking directly at him.

His shoulders drop as he sighs. “After what happened with us… Look, I want you. More than anything. There’s something about you, we just… fit. I had to go away last minute with my dad on business, and I thought I’d take that time to gather my thoughts. I know I should have told you, but I was confused and...” he trails off, searching for words. “Will you give me another chance?”

After a few tense moments of silence, I speak. “You were confused? What about exactly?” I ask. If he thinks he’s going to get away with some evasive half-assed apology, he has another thing coming.

His eyes dart away, and his hand runs over his head. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone before,” he says after a few tense moments. “I’m at a loss, Paris. I don’t want to make a mess of things, but that’s all I seem to be able to do.”

I exhale deeply, watching him as he keeps his head down.

“I’m not perfect,” he says.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” I mutter. And I don’t. I’d appreciate some honesty though. I cringe at the thought. How hypocritical of me. What the hell am I doing here? This whole thing is one huge clusterfuck. I stand up and clear my throat so he looks at me.

“I have to go,” I say. I hate seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, his head going down again. I sigh, but force my feet to move. I need to get away from him, because now he’s not the only one who’s confused.

Anaya greets me at the door as I return from work that night. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” I ask her as I close the door behind me.

“It’s late,” she says, her eyes filled with worry. I slide my phone out of my bra and look at the time. Three in the morning. I had to stay back a little later tonight, because the club was packed.

“Yeah, we had a busy night so I had to stay back late,” I tell her. I walk into my room, and she follows me, trailing behind.

“What’s the name of the bar you work at again?” she asks. I still, then turn to look at her.

“Why?” I ask her.

“I’m curious,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Fuck, I don’t want to lie to her. She’s pretty much my only friend in this town. I sit down on my bed and pat the space next to me. She sits down, and I cringe as I realise I’m going to tell her the truth.

“I know you haven’t been telling me the truth, Paris,” she starts.

“I work at Toxic,” I tell her. “It’s in the city on William Street.”

She plays with the ends of her red hair, thinking. Then she freezes and lifts her wide eyes to me. “Toxic? As in…”

I nod, swallowing hard. Unable to hold eye contact with her, I glance around my room, looking for a distraction.

“Wow,” she says. She clears her throat after a few seconds of silence, and then turns to look at me. “You’re a stripper?”

I grit my teeth, hide my shame, and nod once.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” she mutters under her breath. I can’t help it; choked laughter escapes at her comment. She shakes her head at me and gives me a lopsided smile. “Maybe you could teach me some dance moves sometime?” she asks quietly, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

“Maybe,” I reply. She grins.

We spend the rest of the night talking about it.

It’s then I know that everything between us is going to be all right.