The Gray Effect - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

S O P H I A H O N E Y
I CAN'T BELIEVE I said yes.
Okay-maybe I can believe it. How? Well... aside from the humid Miami heat wrapping around me like some clingy hug and the fact that I'm standing just outside the airport sipping the water Theo bought for us on the way out-I'm still here. With him.
He's a few feet away, phone pressed to his ear, head tilted down like the conversation's draining him already. I can't hear what he's saying, but I can tell it's not good. His jaw keeps doing that thing again-tightening like he's holding something back, some frustration or ache or maybe just the urge to scream.
I should look away. I know I should. But I don't.
Maybe it's the way the sun hits his skin or how his brows knit together when he's trying not to think about. anything.
I keep my eyes on him until he catches me watching. Only for a second.
I look away fast, acting like I'm focused on the stupid water bottle label. But my heart? That traitor is drumming against my ribs like it knows something I don't.
I blame his eyes.
Those ridiculous puppy eyes. The ones that made it nearly impossible to say no when he asked me-with that soft, careful tone that made every hair on my skin rise like it had never been touched by kindness before.
I couldn't breathe when he held my hand. Not just held-it was like he needed it. Like I was the only thing grounding him back then. And the way he looked at me-so confused, so vulnerable-it did something to me I wasn't ready for.
And then his mom...The panic in his face.
The way he froze.
How he called it a "little" panic attack like it wasn't earth-shattering. Like I didn't see the way his whole world fell apart in seconds.
I know it's not my business.
It's his.
But still-I want to know.
We're friends. Yes, friends.
He wanted me to be his friend and I agreed. So here I am, standing in Miami heat like a melting popsicle, being a plus one to his dad's third wedding.
That's all this is. That's that.
When Theo told me his dad was getting married this Friday-to his third wife-I was, no lie, shocked. I mean... if I calculate things right, his dad's gotta be pushing late forties, maybe fifty. And from the way Theo talks about this woman, I'm guessing she's... younger. Like too young.
I had no clue his parents were divorced. But then again, I was what-ten? Eleven?
Theo left my life and Ryan's not long after that. Back then, his family looked perfect. All matching smiles and country club energy.
I wonder what went wrong.
Just when I'm still thinking, a group of girls walk out from the airport, dragging their suitcases behind them, laughing about something. They're about to pass Theo when one of them slows down and actually stops. Her eyes light up like she's seen a damn celebrity. She turns to her friends, whispering fast, and now two of them are openly staring.
And of course, they pause at his chest.
Because Theo, in all his stubborn, cocky glory, refused to button his shirt back up. Said he was hot.
Well, so am I. But do you see me ripping off my tank top and showcasing my boobs like we're in a beach calendar shoot?
No. No, I'm not.
He was on a phone call before they showed up.
And yes, maybe I also stared at him. A little. Okay, a lot. But I stopped... eventually. Right after I caught him licking his lips-probably because they were chapped-and I accidentally followed the movement down to his Adam's apple as he took a long drink from his water bottle.
He finished it in one gulp.
One. Gulp.
You can imagine how many times his throat bobbed-and how many times I found myself gulping right along with it.
But I stopped looking after that. I swear.
I turned my eyes away so fast I felt dizzy.
And yeah, I felt hotter, but I blamed it on the Miami heat.
Definitely not him. Never him.
Then I hear her voice-one of the girls who walked out of the airport just a minute ago. She's smiling wide, wearing this sundress that clings perfectly to her slim figure, like it was made for standing under palm trees with a cocktail in hand. She walks up to Theo like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Not that I'm surprised. Her friends look exactly like her. Perfect skin, perfect teeth, breezy laughter like they don't even sweat in this weather.
It's giving spring break meets bikini season meets hot-guy-kisses-you-on-the-beach-before-the-credits-roll energy.
I've watched enough holiday movies to know exactly how this plays out.
And I'm not offended they're talking to him.
Why would I be?
I mean... look at him.
Cream button-down shirt with three undone that was against my very clear advice. Sunglasses that frame his stupidly attractive face just right. That tiny smirk when he talks. The slightly messy hair I've wanted to touch since he fell asleep on the plane.
Okay, fine-I did touch it. But he was asleep, and I was curious.
They were soft, by the way. Too soft for someone like him.
He's answering their questions happily, and I tell myself I can't be mad.
They're asking about his last hockey game. They probably recognize him. Hockey girls.
Of course.
Wonderful.
My heart almost stops when his face turns to me and our eyes meet.
Just like that-he takes my breath away without even trying.
It's ridiculous, really. The way his gaze can unravel something tight in my chest and pull me apart like he knows exactly what he's doing to me. Maybe he does. Maybe he's starting to figure out that I'm becoming more and more affected by him.
Because then... he grins.
Not just any grin. That slow, crooked one that sends every nerve in my body into full meltdown. And just like that, he looks away from me and back to the girls still standing in front of him. He says something-nodding subtly in my direction.
God, I wish I could read lips so badly right now.
Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't light. Because their smiles flicker, then completely fade. One by one, they turn their heads toward me and give me that look. You know the one. Like I'm the before-picture in some makeover montage.
Do I care? No.
Maybe.
Okay, a little.
I knew I should've worn something else. But these loose jeans were comfortable, and I paired them with a simple white tank top because I didn't expect to be sweating buckets outside the Miami airport. I had a denim jacket on earlier to match, but the heat? Yeah, it wasn't doing me any favors.
Still, now I feel weirdly exposed. The tank top clings more than I remembered, pulling tight across my chest and making my boobs look... a little too present. My shoulders and arms are out, and suddenly, I can feel everything. The way their eyes linger. The way I fold my arms just to feel less seen.
Eventually, they look away. One of them pulls out her phone, and the girls gather around Theo to take a quick picture. Smiles back on. Poses ready. It's over in seconds.
And then just like that-they're gone.
Theo swings both our backpacks over his shoulder in one effortless move like they weigh nothing. His broad frame stretches under the weight, making him look somehow bigger. Stronger. Like every part of him was carved out to carry things that were too heavy for most people.
He starts walking toward me, sunglasses still on, the breeze catching his shirt just enough to make me question everything I thought I had under control.
He stops right in front of me, a faintly apologetic smile tugging at his lips.
"Sorry for the long call," he says, voice softer now, different from the way he was talking to those girls."I was talking to a friend."
Male friend or female friend?
Jesus, Soph. You're sounding like a jealous girlfriend right now.
I blink, clearing my throat as if that'll also clear my thoughts. "Not a problem." My eyes shift away from him, hoping the sunglasses I've got on will somehow act like a shield. But they don't. Not when I can still feel the weight of his stare. Not when I know he's looking right at me.
"Uh..." I start, pretending the heat is the reason I feel flustered. "What were those girls talking to you about?"
He cocks his head slightly. "What girls?"
I let out a dry scoff and look back at him. "Those girls. You know-the ones who asked for a picture with you? Or were there more girls you took pictures with while I wasn't looking?"
Way to go, Soph. Way to sound totally normal.
"Oh," he says, as if it's only just clicked. "They were just asking if I was Theo Gray. Said they watched local hockey, recognized me, and wanted to be sure."
"And?" I ask, folding my arms tighter against my chest.
"And then they asked why I was here."
"So what did you tell them?"
"On vacation," he says with a small laugh, shaking his head. "What's with the interrogation, detective? You could've just joined us if you were that curious."
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of water and hoping it cools the heat crawling up my neck. "Why would I join you people?" I mutter, eyes on the sidewalk.
He shrugs, stepping closer. "Because I told them you're my girl."
The water catches in my throat.
I cough. Hard.
My heart decides this is the perfect time to try and break out of my ribcage.
Instantly, I feel Theo's hand on my back, patting gently-steady, warm, grounding. My eyes snap to him, surprised, and I realize he's taken off his glasses. His eyes-those stupidly soft, ridiculously concerned eyes-search mine like I might collapse any second.
"Are you alright?" he asks, voice low and earnest.
"Yeah." I cough again, weaker this time, waving my hand like that'll convince my lungs to behave. "I'm fine."
He doesn't move his hand from my back.
And I'm very aware of it.
Too aware.
My voice is still raspy when I ask, "Why-why would you say that to them?" I pause, hoping he'll take the cue, expecting him to pull his hand away now that I'm not dying.
But he doesn't.
His hand stays right there, firm and comforting like he's not just steadying me, but holding me in place.
I hate that it feels good.
He gives a slight shrug, his eyes never leaving mine. "Relax," he says, tilting his head toward me. "They were being flirty and I didn't have the strength to deal with it. So I said my girlfriend is waiting for me and I looked at you."
My heart does this weird flip, and I try not to let it show on my face.
"Oh," I say, but it comes out quieter than I meant it to. I clear my throat again-because of the water, not him-and try not to notice how close he is.
He's still looking at me.
And his hand is still on my back.
"Thanks for playing along," he says, his lips curling just slightly. "You make a pretty convincing girlfriend."
"H-how did I act convincing?" I manage to ask, even though my voice cracks halfway through like a preteen boy in a choir.
"Well," he drawls, eyes scanning my face with a confidence that should be illegal. "You were standing there all cute and annoyed, arms crossed, glaring at me like I'd actually done something wrong."
"I was annoyed," I mutter, narrowing my eyes. " I'm literally melting under the sun, do you think I would be smiling in a situation like this?"
"Exactly," he laughs. "It was perfect. You looked just jealous enough for them to believe it."
"I wasn't jealous!" I protest way too fast.
His brow lifts. "Didn't say you were."
"Yeah, well... I wasn't."
"Right."
We stare at each other.
I hate how smug he looks.
I hate how my face feels like it's on fire.
I hate how his hand is still on my back and I haven't even moved.
I take a deep breath, then nudge his chest with my bottle. "You're lucky I didn't out you right there. Imagine their reaction if I'd said, 'Oh, me? I'm just his emotionally stable travel companion.'"
He snorts. "That would've ruined the illusion."
I step back finally-just a little-and roll my eyes. "Next time you wanna use me to scare off airport fangirls, maybe give me a heads-up first."
He nods, face fully smiling. "Got it. Next time, we'll coordinate outfits too."
"Right. Matching shirts that say Not Actually Dating, Just His Emotional Support Human."
He laughs again and I take a second to enjoy the deep sound of it.
Just as I'm about to come up with another brilliant retort, his phone starts ringing.
He glances at the screen, answers,"Oh, okay. Be there now." he hangs up, slips the phone into his pocket, and turns to me. "Let's go, our ride is here."
Before I can even open my mouth to ask who exactly is picking us up, he reaches out and slips his fingers between mine like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I blink.
"Uh-what're you-"
But he's already tugging me gently forward, walking toward the curb like he hasn't just casually stolen all the oxygen around me. His hand is warm. A little rough. Comfortably tight around mine.
I could let go. I should probably let go.
But I don't.
I just follow him.
And maybe-just maybe-I lean in a little closer than I need to.
"So, who exactly is picking us up?" I ask, removing mu focus away from the way our hands are tangled like it's normal thing we do and look at him.
"My cousin," he says without looking over. "He's waiting for us."
I nod, then shift my eyes ahead, half-curious, half-nervous to see what kind of cousin Theo has.
Before I can spiral further, a voice cuts through the buzz of the airport traffic.
"Theo!"
A guy in a floral shirt-two buttons undone-and cream pants is waving at us from beside a sleek black car. He's tall, light skinned with tousled brown hair and a lean build that still hints at defined muscles under the fabric. Sunglasses perch on his nose, and the widest grin stretches across his face.
Theo lights up. Actually lights up.
"Miles!" he shouts back, then lets go of my hand-my very warm hand-to jog over and pull the guy into a quick, loud, brotherly hug.
I slow my steps, watching from behind as the two of them exchange that kind of hug-laugh-pat combo only close guys can pull off.
"How you doing, man?!" Miles beams, practically bouncing.
"I'm good," Theo says, pulling away and glancing back at me. "Can we enter the car now? We're fucking boiling."
Yes. Yes, we definitely are.
Miles glances at me, opening his mouth like he's about to say something-but then he doesn't. Even though he's wearing glasses, I could tell his quite attractive from his face features. His eyes flick back to Theo, and he just nods instead. "Of course, enter."
He fishes out his car key and presses a button. The sleek black car lets out a sharp beep, unlocking with an effortless hum.
Theo strides over and opens the back door for me like a total gentleman. From far, the car looked big-but up close? It's massive. And expensive. Like the type of car you'd see in a music video or parked outside a five-star hotel.
I place a hand on the door frame, lifting one foot in as I prepare to slide into the plush leather seat-but just as I push myself forward, a hand finds my waist.
It grips. Just slightly. Firm enough to steady me.
Theo.
I don't even need to look to know. I could recognize that touch anywhere.
I let the moment pass without comment and slip inside, heart doing tiny flips as he climbs in right after me and shuts the door with a low thud.
I slide a little to the side, creating space, pretending that my entire left side isn't still tingling.
"Thank you," I whisper, not quite meeting his eyes.
"No problem," he murmurs back-and then he winks.
I don't even have time to recover before I catch Miles watching us through the rearview mirror. Watching.
He adjusts something on the dashboard but doesn't start the engine yet. His gaze flicks up to the mirror again-and this time, he doesn't bother hiding the amused smile tugging at his lips.
"So..." he starts, drawing the word out. "How's everything Theo? It's been too long since we've last seen right?"
"Yeah." Theo sighs with a soft smile, like the moments him and his cousin have shared flashed before his eyes.
He leans back in his seat, arm casually brushing mine. "I'm good. What about you?"
Miles sighs dramatically. "Single life is boring, man. I thought we were gonna have a guys' single night or something-but clearly, I miscalculated."
It takes a second for the meaning to register, and when it does, my eyes practically pop out of my head.
"We're not a thing," I blurt, turning toward him.
From the front seat, I hear Miles chuckle. "Ah, so she speaks. And with a lovely voice too."
I catch him looking at me through the rearview mirror, an easy grin on his face. "What's your name, pretty lady?"
"Sophia," I say with a small laugh, amused by his tone. "But you can call me Soph."
"But it's better to call her Sophia," Theo cuts in, his voice calm but laced with something else-something firmer.
I glance at him, confused, but he's already looking at me dead in the eyes. "She doesn't let strangers use her nickname. Right, Soph?"
Oh.
I bite my tongue, realizing he's throwing my own words back at me from earlier.
But... why is he saying it like that?
Miles lets out a laugh-one that breaks off midway like he just figured out a juicy secret. "Ohh... couple in paradise. Is that why you brought your girlfriend here? Are you two arguing already?"
I shake my head quickly, not sure if he can even see it from the rearview. "Seriously, we are not dating. We're far from that."
I nudge Theo lightly with my elbow. "Tell him, Theo."
Theo's quiet for a second too long.
Too long.
"We are not together," Theo finally says, looking straight at Miles through the rearview mirror.
I exhale quietly, thinking that's the end of it-but oh no, of course not.
He continues, voice low, laced with something I can't quite place. "But we're definitely something."
The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely, like he's holding back a smirk. Then he turns his head and looks at me.
"Aren't we, Soph?"
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
There's nothing playing in my head except Theo's words, looping like a broken record.
But we're definitely something.
What the hell does that even mean?
The engine hums to life, a low, steady sound that vibrates beneath the seat. I blink, barely registering it, my thoughts spiraling in a dozen directions. Then I hear it-a long, knowing whistle from the front seat.
I don't need to look to know his cousin is grinning like an idiot.
"Oh, that something," he drawls, full of implication. "Got it."
He shifts the car into drive and says nothing else, letting the words hang in the air like fog that refuses to lift.
I sit there, stiff, the heat from Theo's shoulder radiating into mine.
I glance to my side, debating whether I should ask Theo what he meant. My lips part slightly, the question ready on my tongue. But when I turn to look at him, I pause.
His head's leaned back, eyes closed like he's been asleep for hours. One hand resting on his thigh, the other casually draped between us, brushing against my leg every time the car bumps slightly.
Convenient. Or strategic.
I sit back slowly, letting the question die before it's born.
Maybe I didn't really want the answer anyway.
I really don't. Because he's lying.
We aren't anything.
We are nothing.
My eyes slip shut, the hum of the car and the warmth of the seat lulling me into sleep faster than I'd like to admit. I don't know how long I'm out, but somewhere between a sharp turn and the buzz of passing traffic, I feel it-weight pressing lightly against me.
A head.
On my shoulder.
I don't need to open my eyes to know who it is.
His scent gives him away, the soft rise and fall of his breathing, even the way his arm shifts ever so slightly, resting closer than it should.
And once again... I allow it.
I don't shift away.
I don't ask questions.
I just sit there, barely breathing, while Theo leans into me like it's normal. I let my head tilt slightly, just enough for my cheek to brush against his hair. Just enough for him to maybe feel it.
And even in sleep, I swear-I feel him smile. And I hear a whisper from him... or perhaps it's just my imagination.
"We're more than something, Soph. Definitely more."