The Gray Effect - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

T H E O G R A Y
SHE DOESN'T BLINK. Doesn't even flinch. Just stands there, her full attention locked on me like she's scanning for lies-and unfortunately, I'm packed full of them right now.
"You think you grew out of it," she repeats slowly, dragging each word like she wants to make sure I hear how stupid it sounds.
"I mean, it's been years. My immune system probably evolved or something," I say with a weak shrug.
Her brow lifts higher.
"Right. Because that's how allergies work. You just magically evolve like a Pokémon."
Okay. Maybe not my best line.
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly hyper-aware of how cornered I am. I try not to meet her eyes too much, because the way she's looking at me-like she sees straight through my skin-is making it really hard to think.
"You know what?" she sighs, her voice clipped. "I'm going back to the apartment."
My head jerks up. "Oh-let me drop you off-"
"No." Her frown deepens like I just insulted her entire bloodline. "I can walk. And don't even think about following me. You're already good at that."
"I told you I wasn't following you."
She rolls her eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
She tries to move around me, but I use my huge frame and step in the same direction, mirroring her move without thinking. She halts abruptly, glaring up at me.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to stop you."
She groans, clearly fed up. "I don't have time for this, Gray. Please move."
Gray.
It's been a while since she called me that. Which only means one thing-she's pissed. Not the joking kind of pissed, the real kind.
Or...
I must've taken too long getting lost in my head, because when I glance up again, she's not standing in front of me anymore. I turn around just in time to see her already walking down the street, her hair swaying with each annoyed step.
Without thinking, I start following her again.
"Stop following me, Theo," she says, not even bothering to look back.
I can't help the smirk that pulls at my lips. There's something weirdly cute about how she always just knows it's me.
"How can you tell?" I ask, genuinely curious.
She snorts. "You're the one stalking me now, so... lucky guess."
Ouch. That was fair.
Still, I speed up a little, just enough to match her pace-but not enough to walk beside her.
"If you keep following me," she says, slowing her steps, "I swear I'll shout."
I scoff. "Go ahead."
She pauses, and for a second, I wonder if she's really going to do it.
But I don't give her the chance.
Instead of walking back to my car like a normal person, I quicken my pace and step right in front of her, blocking her path in a heartbeat.
"What the-" she jumps back slightly, startled. Her eyes widen, and I swear I see a flicker of red flash in them.
Oh... shit.
I stare at her for a moment too long, taking in that angry flush on her cheeks, the way her braid sways slightly with the breeze, and those gorgeous pink lips that are begging me to shut up and kiss her.
But instead, I blurt, "Are you hungry?"
Her brows pinch, her jaw tightens, and she looks at me like I've completely lost my mind.
Because maybe I have.
All I can think is: Please say yes. Please let me feed you and pretend, just for a bit, that things between us aren't so messed up right now.
She blinks at me like she's trying to process if I'm serious or just really, really bad at reading the room.
Then she crosses her arms. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes," I say, completely serious.
"So you stalk me to a pet shop, lie about wanting a cat-when we both know you're deadly allergic to it and now you're asking if I'm hungry?"
I nod. "Exactly."
She stares. Then snorts. "Thanks for asking but I'm not."
I blink. "But-"
"Bye, Gray."
She says and turns away, muttering something under her breath, but I catch the smallest twitch at the corner of her lips. A crack in the wall. I smile.
"I got you mango stuff," I add, voice softer now. "Like... a lot of mango stuff."
She pauses mid-step. Her back is still to me, but I see her shoulders lift in a tiny breath.
"I figured if you were going to kill me for following you, might as well bribe you with your weakness first."
She slowly turns back to face me, her green eyes narrowed. "You brought me mango?"
I nod, trying not to look too hopeful. "Bubble tea. Mochi. Muffins. Croissant. Cheesecake. I basically cleared the shelf."
Her eyes widen a little, the brief flicker of surprise passing through them before she quickly masks it with a neutral expression. I can feel the urge to close the distance between us, to reach out and make her look at me for just a second longer, but I force myself to stay still. My hands stay tucked deep into my jacket pockets, fingers gripping the fabric to keep my control in check.
"You're joking," she says, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" I reply, holding my ground and meeting her eyes head-on, not even a hint of a smile on my face.
She studies me for a moment, her eyes scanning my expression for any crack, any sign that I'm playing around. When she doesn't find one, she seems to settle, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a bit. She glances down at her skirt, and for the first time, I realize just how short it is. The hem grazes the tops of her thighs, and I can't help but notice the way the fabric clings to her skin.
"I guess not," she says softly, her voice almost too quiet for me to hear, but the words land anyway. She doesn't look at me, her gaze fixed anywhere but my face.
My legs feel like they're about to take a step forward, my body practically itching to cross the space between us and do something reckless-like lift her up and carry her straight back to my car, because that would be easier than this awkward standoff.
"Good, so let's go," I say, trying to sound casual, even though my heart is pounding a little faster now.
She doesn't answer right away, and for a second, I wonder if she's going to refuse, but instead, she just shifts slightly, her eyes still avoiding mine. It's enough to make my chest tighten, but I stay where I am, letting her make the next move.
"Fine. But I'm not walking with you," she mutters.
I grin, trying to keep it cool, but honestly, I feel like jumping up and down in excitement. Finally, I think.
"That's all I needed to hear," I reply, my voice way too casual for how much I'm internally celebrating.
Turning on my heel, I head back toward my car, each step light and easy, like I've just won a small battle. I don't look back, but I can feel her presence behind me-like an electric pull that I can't quite ignore. It's strange, this invisible force between us. She's there, but not. Close enough to be felt, but far enough to keep her distance. I keep walking, but my mind keeps drifting to her, like it always does.
Maybe I'm just imagining it, or maybe it's just me being paranoid but I can feel her eyes on me even without looking.
I can't resist. I glance over my shoulder, just for a second, and before I can even register her reaction, she jerks her head to the side, staring pointedly at the ground as if the sidewalk suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.
But I saw her. I saw the way her eyes flicked over to me and then darted away. And if that wasn't enough, the faint pink flush creeping across her cheeks is.
My stomach flips, like I just did something that made her feel something, and I almost laugh, because I don't even know what's so funny. But she's adorable, that's what it is. She's trying to act unaffected, but I know it's the opposite.
My car comes into view, and I pick up my pace, my feet almost moving faster than my brain can keep up. I yank open the passenger door and glance up, catching her gaze.
Her movements seem slower now, like she's weighing something, maybe a decision. I can almost hear the mental tug-of-war she's having with herself. She probably convinced herself that being around me wasn't worth it, but I'm stubborn. I'm not giving up that easily.
My eyes drop to the mango bubble tea and the packages of mango goodies sitting in the passenger's seat. I frown.
The drink is probably warm by now, not as cold as when I first got it. For a second, I feel like slapping my hand on the roof of the car. I could've gotten it to her sooner if I'd just been honest about why I was here in the first place instead of dragging it out.
"What's wrong?" Soph asks, almost close enough to touch but staying just out of reach.
I swallow hard. "Uh, I just realized the drink's probably warm now. It won't taste as good." I try to sound casual, but it's clear there's more to it than that.
She just stands there, staring at me, and I can't help but wonder what's going on in her head. The silence stretches longer than I'm comfortable with, but then she moves. Slowly, she slides into the passenger seat, reaches for the drink, and takes a sip. Her eyes flick up to mine, and she doesn't say anything at first.
I should take a breather. I shouldn't be nervous.
And yet here I am, holding my breathe, clearly waiting on what she thinks of the taste.
"It's still good," she says softly, like it's a secret she's sharing with me. Then she clears her throat. "I prefer it warm anyways."
I squint, unsure whether to believe her. "You sure? Because I could buy another one-"
"No." She cuts me off before I can finish, her voice quick and sharp. "I don't want another one." Her eyes widen, and she looks as surprised by her own words as I am. "I like this one."
I blink, taken aback by her response, and mumble, "Oh... okay then."
"Yeah, okay." She shrugs, then grabs the packages from the seat and shifts them to the back of the car before sitting down again. Her gaze is steady on me. "You said you bought mango mochi, right?"
A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. I nod, feeling the tension between us shift just a little. "Let me turn around and we can continue."
I close the passenger door and quickly slide into the driver's seat. My hand stretch across to grab the pack of mango mochi from the back seat, dropping it into her lap with a soft thud.
"Here you go."
"Thank you." She looks down at it, her eyes not leaving the package as she carefully opens it, pulling out one of the mochi. She pauses, her fingers frozen for a moment before she looks at me.
"Oh, um, would you like one?"
I start the engine, the hum of the car filling the space between us. "No thanks. I'm not really a huge fan of anything mango."
"Really?" she asks, her brow furrowing slightly. I nod, and I notice a small frown tug at her lips. She then says, almost immediately, "We should roll up the windows."
"Why?" I keep my focus on the road, not bothering to glance at her.
"You don't like mango, so the smell should be irritating you."
I feel a slight surprise at how well she's read me, but I don't say anything. Instead, I glance at her and pull a small smile on my lips.
"It's fine," I say, but she's already reaching for the window control, rolling the windows up with a decisive click.
"Just in case," she mutters, turning her attention back to the mochi.
I watch her for a moment, the way she carefully picks at the mochi, then pops another one into her mouth. She seems lost in her own little world, but I can't help noticing how comfortable she looks, how at ease she is despite the tension between us.
I'm tempted to take a picture. She looks peaceful for once, focused on the mochi like the world doesn't exist. But I don't lift my phone. I know better. One snap, and I'll ruin this strange calm hanging between us. I'm not ready to lose that-not yet.
My eyes are supposed to stay on the road. They try. God knows they try. But they keep drifting toward her, like they have a mind of their own. She eats quietly, chewing like she's trying not to make a sound. She looks so calm, so unaware. And then-damn it-my gaze slips lower.
Bare thighs. Smooth. Bare. Right there.
My throat goes dry.
Shame. Shame on me.
I shouldn't be thinking about how soft they look. I shouldn't be remembering how I kissed the inside of each one, loving the sound she made when I did. I definitely shouldn't feel the twitch in my jeans-but here I am.
And I'm doing all three.
"Hmm..."
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. She moans-just a small one, a sound of satisfaction-and I know it's just the mochi. She's enjoying the food. That's it. That's all it is.
My brain knows that.
My cock, however, does not.
"Don't you dare embarrass me," I mutter under my breath, glancing down like I can talk some sense into it. Another twitch. My jeans feel tighter, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
She does it again. Another sound. Another hum of pleasure.
And I curse internally. Fuck.
How the fuck am I supposed to get out of this car if I'm already half-hard?
The moan slips from her lips again, soft and innocent, and I swear I could punch the steering wheel just to ground myself. My jaw tightens, my grip on the wheel uncomfortably tight, and I try to focus on the road.
But then her voice cuts through the thick silence.
"Are you alright?"
I gulp, forcing my eyes forward, trying not to look at her again-especially not her thighs or her mouth. But they betray me for a second, flicking to her lips. Glossy, plush, stained slightly with mango.
God.
"Yeah," I say quickly, eyes back on the road. "Why wouldn't I be?"
She pauses, then says, "You're clenching your jaw."
Her tone is gentle, almost curious. "I just figured you might be angry or something."
Clenching my jaw?
I didn't even notice.
"You really don't like the smell of mango," she says, almost to herself.
I glance at her when I realize the road ahead is clear. I catch the subtle frown on her face-unintentional, soft, and it wrecks me more than it should.
"It's not..." I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my voice even. "It's not the smell. I mean it, I don't mind."
"Then what's wrong?"
You.
You're what's wrong.
I want to feel you so badly it hurts. I want you to climb over this console, press those thighs on either side of me so I can grip them and dig my fingers into that softness. I want to kiss you-taste the mango on your tongue even though I hate it-just to feel your mouth opening for me, responding, wanting. I want to slide my tongue in, deep, slow, and claim every last bit of sweetness you're tasting now.
I want you to whimper into my mouth the way you just moaned over that mochi.
But I say none of that.
I just keep driving, jaw tight again, pulse thudding between my legs like some cruel reminder.
"Nothing's wrong," I lie.
Even though every part of me aches to touch her.
Even though I'm still half-hard, imagining her lips around something else.
And I think-
God help me.
If she makes that sound one more time...
I'm going to crash this damn car.
She goes quiet again, and for a moment, all I hear is the low hum of the engine and the soft crinkle of the mochi wrapper as she reaches for another one. I can feel her watching me out of the corner of her eye, and I know she's thinking-trying to figure me out.
"Yeah," I say again, throat dry. "Just thinking-"
My phone suddenly rings, and a huge fucking sigh of relief leaves my body.
"Could you check who that is?" I ask Soph, just as I'm pulling up near the estate gates and turning in.
"You want me to check your call?" she asks, curious. I wonder why she sounds surprised.
"Yeah, can you?"
"Oh, um... sure." She takes my phone, scrolling for a moment before speaking. "It's your... mum."
Fucking hell.
First the sperm donor, and now her.
"Cut the call," I say sharply, jaw already tightening.
"Okay." She does as I ask, but barely a few seconds pass before the phone buzzes again in her hand.
"She's calling again," Soph says carefully. "Maybe you should-"
"No." My eyes land on the apartment building. "Just switch my phone off. Don't worry about it."
I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to see her.
I just don't.
She lied. She promised she'd come to my game. Said she wouldn't miss it for anything. But she did. She missed it-and now all I've got are texts. Long, wordy messages stuffed with apologies, excuses, love declarations that feel like bandaids on wounds she doesn't even realize she caused.
I know I shouldn't feel this angry. I know people mess up. But she gave me hope. And that's the part I can't forgive.
Hope is a dangerous thing.
It had me glancing into the crowd, searching for her face every damn time I hit the ice. It had me believing that maybe-for once-someone would show up and prove me wrong about everything I thought I knew about disappointment.
But she didn't.
And yeah, maybe I sound like a child. Maybe I am one-just a kid who still wants his mum to show up for him.
Is that really too much to ask?
Why does it always feel like I'm reaching for things that keep moving further away?
I'm already going to stay with Dad for a few days for his wedding-grinning through it like it's not the last place I want to be. That's torment enough.
As I pull the car up closer to the building, my brows furrow. Mr. Nick, the security guard, is standing outside-arms stretched, blocking someone.
A woman.
She's trying to push past him.
I squint, a strange tightness growing in my chest. Something in me already knows.
The car rolls forward, and her face becomes clearer.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
"Mum."
The word leaves my lips before I can stop it.
My blood runs cold as I see her struggling with Mr. Nick, trying to force her way in.
How... how did she find me?
I slow the car down, parking at the far end of the lot, hoping-stupidly-that if I stay still long enough, maybe she won't see me. Maybe Mr. Nick will send her away. Maybe I'm dreaming and this isn't real.
But Soph leans forward, squinting through the windshield.
"...Is that your mom?" she asks, her voice uncertain.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles go white."Yeah."
She doesn't say anything for a second. I feel her shift beside me, glance at me from the side, like she's trying to read the thoughts that are spinning too fast in my head.
"Do... you want to see her?" she asks quietly.
I swallow hard, my throat burning. "I...I don't know."
Which is the truth.
Because part of me wants to get out of the car and yell, scream, ask her why she didn't just stay gone. Why she thought showing up here was a good idea after everything.
Why do I let myself believe she wants me, when deep down, I know all she really wants is to get closer to Dad?
I suddenly can't breathe.
My chest tightens, painfully so, like it's caving in every breath shallow and sharp, like I'm inhaling shards of glass. My seatbelt digs into me and I yank it off with trembling hands, desperate to feel something that isn't this crushing panic-because everything suddenly feels too tight. My shirt clings to me. The air feels thinner. My thoughts aren't staying in one place.
Why is she fucking here?
Why now?
This isn't the moment. I'm not ready. I don't want to see her-not when I'm still angry, not when I know I'll either scream or crumble. And I don't know which one scares me more.
Mum's voice cuts through the air, faint through the windshield. She's calling my name. Again and again.
But I can't focus. I can't think.
My heart drums too loudly in my ears.
Then, suddenly-two soft warm hands reach for my face.
They gently cradle my face, and my whole body flinches like I'm being pulled from a dream. My breath catches, stuck halfway in my throat as she turns my head away from the windshield.
And I see her.
Soph.
Her green eyes filled with so much worry it aches. She's holding my face like I'll shatter if she lets go. Her thumbs brush slow, soothing circles across my jaw, and I almost sigh at how warm her hands feel against my skin.
I didn't realize how cold I was until she touched me.
God. I want to close my eyes. To sink into that warmth and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. But I can't. I can't look away from her.
Not right now.
She's the only steady thing in this moment. The only thing that feels real. The only thing that doesn't hurt to look at.
"Hey," she says, her voice calm and quiet like a lullaby, like she knows if she speaks too loud, I'll fall apart. "Look at me. Just look at me okay? You're alright."
My breathing is still erratic, but I nod.
Because for some reason, I can look at her. Her touch calms the storm just a little.
Her thumbs lightly brush my jaw, and she holds my face like I'm something breakable. Like I matter. Like she's trying to anchor me in place.
"You're okay," she whispers. "You're okay. Just breathe."
And so I do. For her.
Because right now, she's the only thing that doesn't hurt to look at.
Then she says, so softly it almost doesn't reach me, "Do you want me to tell her to leave? I can lie for you if you want."
My chest jerks with the urge to say yes. To hide. But my head shakes faster than I can stop it. "No," I croak, voice hoarse. "This is... it's fine. I can deal."
She studies me for a second, her hands still cupping my face, and then offers the faintest, sad little smile. "Okay," she says. "But my arms might get tired."
That almost makes me laugh. Almost.
I slowly pull back-not because I want to, but because I don't want her to strain. I take one of her hands in mine, fingers wrapping around hers before I gently thread them together. Watching how perfect her hand fits in mine.
I feel her freeze instantly. For a moment, her hand goes completely still, and I think-no, hope, yes hope-she'll not pull away and she doesn't.
Her fingers stay interlaced with mine, hesitant but not rejecting.
It's like time slows, and I can feel her pulse thrum against my skin, the warmth of her hand slowly seeping into me.
I don't even realize I've asked her, my voice low and careful. "Can I do this instead?"
Her breath hitches, and I see her throat swallow, a slight tremor in her shoulders. I'm waiting for her to pull away. Waiting for her to tell me I'm being too much. But instead, she just gulps and nods, her eyes meeting mine.
"Y-yeah, you can."
Her voice cracks on the words, and my chest tightens at the sound. It's soft. Unsteady. Vulnerable. And God, it gets to me in a way I didn't expect. Like something inside me shifts-slow, but intense.
I squeeze her hand tighter, needing her touch like air. I'm not sure if I'm holding on to her or if she's holding me, but it doesn't matter. The world outside fades, and it's just her and me, the beat of our hearts syncing in the silence.
I finally close my eyes, letting out a long sigh as I lean back into the seat. The tension in my chest starts to ease, but I know Soph is still watching me. It's impossible not to feel it, the weight of her gaze, lingering like an unspoken question.
"Will you tell me when she leaves?" My voice is quieter than I intended, but it's out before I can stop it.
"Okay." She answers softly, and I can feel the subtle shift in her body-like she's letting herself relax too, just a little. It makes me feel lighter, even if only for a moment.
Her hand hasn't pulled away yet, and I almost wish she would. It's like I'm holding on too tight, but the warmth of her thumb, gently moving along the back of my hand, keeps me grounded. I think she's trying to calm me down, and I almost let myself believe it's working.
After what feels like forever, I hear her voice again, quieter this time.
"She's gone."
I open my eyes, the world outside finally coming into focus, and I look at the windshield, barely able to process it at first. She's actually gone.
"Thank you," I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be. I turn to look at Soph, and I can see the confusion still written all over her face.
"It's okay." She nods slowly, her lips pressing together, like she's fighting the urge to ask what's really going on.
I exhale, not sure if I should say anything, but it spills out anyway. "I have little panic attacks on some occasions."
She doesn't say anything at first, just nods. "Oh."
I don't want her to feel sorry for me, so I shrug it off, trying to act like it's nothing. "Yeah," I murmur, glancing back at the empty road in front of me. "Don't tell Logan or anyone about this, okay? I don't want him asking what happened. I just-"
"I won't." She interrupts, her voice firm, and I feel her hand tighten around mine without even realizing it. She doesn't seem to notice, but I do. And it feels... nice. Like she's here for me, even if she doesn't really understand it all.
A small, real smile tugs at my lips as I look at her, the weight in my chest lightening. "You're really nice to me now."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, but there's something genuine in her face. "I don't hate you that much."
"Yeah, right," I roll my eyes then look back at her, still grinning, when I hear it.
Her laugh.
It starts soft, almost hesitant, but then it builds, becoming this rich, melodic sound that fills the space between us. It's like I've never heard her truly laugh before. Not like this. It's not forced or awkward, just pure.
I can't help but freeze for a second, taking it all in. Her laughter isn't something I thought I'd ever hear coming from her.
The way it bubbles up from deep inside her, so natural and unguarded, it hits me harder than I expected. She's not trying to hold anything back. And for a moment, I forget everything else, even the road in front of me.
She looks so breathtaking right now.
She notices my gaze, the sudden quiet, and she stops, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern. "What's wrong?"
I blink and swallow, suddenly aware of how tightly my chest is pulling. "This is the first time I've ever heard you laugh," I say, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them. "I... I like it."
Her eyes widen slightly, her breath catching in her throat. I watch her eyes shift once more, like she's unsure how to process what I've said. Her fingers-her soft, warm fingers-start to slip away, and pang of panic hits me.
I can't let go. Not now. Not after hearing her laugh like that, after feeling her warmth in my hand.
Without thinking, I grip her hand tighter, my fingers tangling with hers again, and she stares at me, her chest rising with a slow, uncertain breath. There's a brief moment where I think she might pull away, but she doesn't. She doesn't.
She opens her mouth, like she's going to say something, but before she can speak, the words come rushing out of me.
"T-Theo..." Her voice trembles, and I can see the worry in her eyes. It makes something tight in my chest. She's scared, and I don't know why, but I want to make it stop. I want to reach out and take it all away.
"Can I say something crazy?" I ask, my voice quieter than usual. I see the way she looks at me, like she's waiting for me to explain myself, but she doesn't pull away. She lets me touch her hand, lets me get close.
"How would you feel about going to Miami with me? For my dad's wedding?"
The moment I say it, I realize how huge the question is. But I can't take it back now. If she can help me through these panic attacks with just her presence, I need her with me when I'm facing my dad, my relatives, all the chaos.
Soph doesn't know it yet, but she's already become the storm that's taken over every other storm in my life. She's the only thing that makes everything feel okay.
I just hope she says yes.
I need her to say yes.