Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (10 page)

“Your argument’s for shit,
Cass
. I happen to have a very good friend who does, in fact, have a penis between his legs, and has demonstrated many times how much fun you can have while roller-skating in a minidress.”

I take note to ask about said friend when not so irritated, because he/she sounds all kinds of awesome, then counter, “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. And it’s going to be fun.”

I roll my eyes, then cross my arms over my chest, turning to gaze out the window. I breathe in deeply and shake my head, my voice a mere whisper as I admit to the glass, “I’m going to fall.”

Grady’s humor sobers, and he immediately reaches to take hold of my hand. I reluctantly give it to him, then force myself to meet his stare.

“You said you
want
to trust me. Well, consider this the first step.” He firms his grip, and his eyes pierce mine. “I will
never
let you fall.”

He pauses, drawing in a breath, then cocks his brow. “You need to do something fun. Conquer something outside your comfort zone. Lose control. That’s what I’m offering you, right here, right now. A chance to have some fun, and maybe . . . I don’t know, call me crazy, but maybe even laugh a little.”

The image of the gorgeous, badass beside me in a pair of roller skates forms in my mind, and fuck me if I don’t have to clear the hint of laughter from being displayed on my face.

Grady eyes my reaction and lifts a challenging brow, grinning while he does it.

I remind myself that I hate him.

Then I think, how much can you hate someone if you have to remind yourself to do so? So I amend, thinking that I
dislike
his cocky self very much, and release his hand while offering, “Fine. But if this is some sick roller derby fetish, you’re going to be sorely
disappointed.”

He shakes his head and chuckles to himself before opening his door while I do the same. I tuck my clutch under the seat for safekeeping and begin to step out of the car. As soon as my heels hit the pavement, he’s there, warm hand extended as I make my exit. I take hold, allowing him to guide me safely, and keep my grip tight as we make our way to the front doors of Skate Place.

As we enter, blaring music from the DJ booth in the corner blasts us. The door shuts behind us and I happen a glance at my kick-ass heels. My metaphorical light bulb ignites, and I grin to myself before shaking my head in mock disappointment. “Darn, I don’t have any socks. Looks like I won’t be skating this evening.” I shrug. “But I’ll be happy to watch you relive your elementary years from the sidelines.”

Clearly disregarding my excuse, Grady’s hold remains as he tugs me gently behind him toward the front counter. Skate Place T-shirts, key chains, bumper stickers, and other memorabilia lining its glass shelves come into view with our approach. My eyes flit to each in appreciation before finally landing, then hardening, on a lone pair of highlighter-yellow Skate Place tube socks dangling from a tiny rack by the cash register.

They’re hideous.

They’re blinding.

They’re also taunting me, so I glare harder.

“Two adults, two skates, and the
last
pair of socks.” Grady faces me, his face bright with sardonic joy. “Well, well, well . . . aren’t you the lucky one?”

Aborting my illogical personification of a pair of tube socks, I redirect my glare to him. He, in turn, waggles his eyebrows, then pays the man with Dalton’s money.

Once we have our roller skates in hand, Grady leads me to a bench lining the white walls of the skating rink, and I reluctantly take a seat. An old eighties ballad begins, and I watch as kids of all ages begin circling the rink, noting the absence of any adults in the moving crowd. Well, ones not attached to a youngster of their own, that is.

“Grady . . .” I swallow and begin nervously nibbling my bottom lip.

Already kneeling in front of me, Grady’s slicked-back hair shines as light from above is reflected in it. My eyes lose sight of the ponytail at the base of his neck and connect with his as he looks up at me. His stare continues holding mine as he slides the kick-ass heel off my foot, and I fight the shiver as his fingers graze, then tighten, around my calf muscle, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t let you fall, Cassie. Okay?”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks and my heart kicks up its rhythm. Twenty-three years old, and I’ve never skated. The knowledge of why begins to saturate the air around me, and suddenly I find it difficult to breathe.

After a certain point in my youth, I just kind of checked out. I remember being a very sociable child at one time, but after . . . well, after . . . the only person I really ever spoke to was Spencer. I shunned all my other friends. I hid any birthday invitations received, often chucking them immediately in the nearest trashcan, knowing the parties would only make me a nervous wreck. Because being around people I didn’t know, adults I didn’t know, well . . . those situations I couldn’t really handle. In fact, I rarely spoke to any adults at all, my parents included.

Needless to say, I missed out on many skating parties during my youth, hence my inability to skate.

I grew out of it eventually. I found some strength in my pretending, I think. I reinvented myself in a way that my past was no longer my weakness, because it simply didn’t exist. I erased it from my mind, and in turn, the ever-present anxiety disappeared.

Except, it didn’t. Not really.

I sure as hell pretended that it did though. It was the only way I could cope and feel
somewhat
normal.

Grady’s confident gaze remains fixed on mine, and I give him a hesitant dip of my head. He gifts me a wink, then proceeds to slide the sock over my foot and tugs it gently upward until it covers my calf. He performs the same ritual on the other leg, all while I remain silent as I watch, amazed at his unwavering patience.

Again, who is this man?

And where the hell did he come from?

And why is he here with me?

After both feet are weighted heavily with skates, his warm hand cups my knee, giving me another encouraging squeeze before he rises off the ground to take a seat next to me. I test the wheels, alternating each skate as I glide them slowly along the carpet while Grady finishes lacing his own. When he’s finished, he rises to his feet, then masterfully executes a half-turn, positioning himself directly in front of me.

Grinning down at me, he announces, “Go time.”

I swallow deeply as Grady reaches for me with both hands, and I willingly slide mine into his, allowing him to lift me from my seated position. Once standing, I’m surprised to find my feet don’t immediately fly out from underneath me. I glance down, shock and a tinge of triumph working their way through my body by way of a relieved chuckle. I grin, then cast my eyes upward. The whites of Grady’s teeth shine brightly with his smile, and his own eyes delight as he begins to wheel backward, taking me with him.

I skate-walk, the loud
clunk
with each step making me smile wider at the ridiculous sound. With our grips locked together, we continue making our way to the main floor. I scan for a beginner’s lane, but don’t see one. All I can see are people zipping past at ungodly speeds. My head begins to shake back and forth and my entire body locks in clear objection to this madness, my recent bout of self-assuredness beginning to wane.

Grady pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tearing my horrified gaze away from the floor and forcing it onto his narrowing stare. “I’ve got you. Eyes on me. Only me.”

My throat clamps shut, but I force a breath and with my eyes bolted to his, I move my right leg forward. Then my left, and my right again. My confidence grows with each successful step taken. And it continues to do so, until the inevitable finally happens. It’s then that I realize the ill-colored red carpet is this rink’s evil ploy to lure novices such as myself into a false sense of security.

As soon as I set foot onto the slick surface of the skate floor, my left leg flies forward while the rest of my body shoots in the opposite direction. My life flashes before my eyes upon my rapid descent, until a strong arm clamps itself around my waist and I’m heaved into the muscled wall of Grady’s chest. My feet slip every which way, continuously searching for some sort of traction beneath them, but unfortunately the floor doesn’t seem to be equipped with
any
. At all.

“Jesus
Christ
!” The sound of my cry is muffled into Grady’s chest as he tightens his hold, allowing me the time I need to find my footing. Adrenaline spikes my blood as it surges, and my body trembles in response, overcome with its release as I continue trying to get my wheeled feet under control. Once my legs are solid and located firmly underneath me, I slowly unclench my fingers from the security of Grady’s navy blue shirt. My heart pounds against his chest, its beat threatening to break through my ribcage as it drums mercilessly beneath it. I inhale deeply in attempt to calm my body’s reaction, then lift my eyes. They continue to climb upward until they find Grady’s wide-eyed stare, a stare that tells me without a doubt, he thought I’d embellished my inability to skate.

I try to fight it, but the recent wave of adrenaline now flooding my system overpowers me. The suppressed giggle inflates until it’s finally released, freeing itself from the depths of my deadened soul. As it rises, its effervescence carries with it a portion of the heaviness constantly draped over me. The weight dissipates and with its disappearance, I do something I haven’t done with someone other than Spencer in years.

I laugh.
Really
laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” I somehow manage through multiple hiccups. “I tried to tell you.”

I fist the back of his collar, making sure I have a damn good hold before releasing my other hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. Both of Grady’s arms are now around my waist, holding me securely, and his body is also shaking from laughter.

Once it tapers off, he shakes his head and his eyes are full of mirth as he states, “You have completely
annihilated
my roller derby fetish.”

My smile remains in tact as he speaks, and his stare dips to my mouth then lifts back to my eyes before he amends, “Or not.”

Our laughter subsides, leaving heated stares in its wake. Still high on adrenaline and
clearly
not thinking, I link my hands behind his neck and press my body against his. Grady inhales deeply upon contact, and with one arm still secured tightly around my waist, the other is freed as his hand lowers to caress my ass. Our bodies are flush, so close, I’m sure he can feel my heart pounding against his chest.

Holding his stare, I urge his face closer to mine, and my eyes drift shut as he consents. The arm around my waist aligns with my spine, and his strong fingers curl around the base of my neck. With his grip still firm, he tilts me backward, and my body willingly takes his direction as it leans into his hold. Breathlessly, I wait to feel his mouth touch mine, but it never does. He continues to lower his head until his heated breaths mercilessly strike my neck. His mouth hovers over my skin, deliciously tortuous, before inching farther to press his parted lips against the area where my pulse beats erratically beneath my skin. Desire snakes through every inch of my body and I swallow in response, which seems to encourage him. His mouth opens wider and the tip of his velvet-soft tongue glides gently along my skin. Any fight I thought I had flees me, and I allow the shiver he elicits to run its course. He smiles into my neck, then ends the kiss, sealing his lips against my skin, before breaking away and righting our bodies.

I’m practically panting when he sets me upright, and my breaths increase as Grady leans to press his forehead against mine, his breathing just as affected. His piercing blue eyes bore into my returning stare, searching for something I know for certain he will never find.

As much as I would love to drown in this feeling, as much as I would love to surrender and give myself to him completely, I can’t.

I’m damaged.

Shattered.

I can only offer pieces of what he seeks because pieces are all that remain.

I open my mouth to explain this, but he cuts me off, pressing away as he asks, “Dance with me?” His eyes are earnest and pleading, and if I weren’t already broken, the look in them alone would destroy me.

“I can’t.” My voice trembles with my refusal, from fear or sadness I’m unsure. I begin to remove my linked arms from his shoulders, but he lifts his hand to secure them in place.

“One dance. Then we can go.”

Right on cue, a new song begins and it is quite possibly the best—and worst—song to hit my ears at this very moment. Foreigner’s
I Want To Know What Love Is
blares through the speakers, and if I were writing a book, this would be the perfect song for this scene.

I choke back all sentiment brought forth by my own memories. So many nights I would listen to this song, alone in my room, with tears streaming down my face wishing I could find love. I would dream that somewhere within my hidden depths I possessed the ability to feel the emotion and somewhere in the world, waiting, was a hero strong enough to dig deep enough to find it and teach me how to experience it without fear.

The words of the song fill the air, and as I remember each one, I revert to that sixteen-year-old girl who dared to dream.

I lower my walls just enough to whisper, “Okay.”

Grady’s mouth curves upward, and he removes his hold from my wrists to encircle my waist with both arms. My skates remain facing forward as he begins wheeling us backward. I break my stare from his to glance at others who have taken to the song. Some skate side by side, holding hands, nervous smiles flitting on their faces. Their youthful innocence compels my own goofy, girly grin as I observe them passing by.

“Eyes on me, Cass. Stay with me.” Grady’s voice is husky as he garners my attention. Still grinning, I twist my neck back in his direction. He leans forward and his soft lips barely touch my ear as he whispers, “Beautiful.”

We continue to skate, and by the time we make our second revolution around the floor, I’m at ease and allow him to lead me, which is a strikingly novel first. Never before have I allowed anyone to take the lead.