Page 22 of Piggy

Charlotte

Grayson steps in front of me. His gaze rakes down my body slowly. His expression grows more confused, like he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Then, he grimaces.

Disbelief. Disgust. A flicker of something else, but he buries it.

For a beat, the world goes quiet. Even the music fades behind my pounding heart.

This is it. Almost a year later. The moment I dreamt of. Me running into him by chance. Him embracing me. We kiss. An explosion of love and excitement.

But now that he’s here?

I feel... no love.

He blinks once, then lets out a humorless laugh, stepping back like I’m offending him.

“No,” he says, voice cutting. “This girl’s too fat. ”

“Bruh!” Jace belts. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? She’s certified fresh. The subs are gonna lose their minds.” Jace yanks me against his side, his fingers pinching into my waist. He side-eyes my cleavage. “Those alone? We could film a whole scene just titty fuckin’ with baby oil.”

I don’t move. I don’t look at Jace or Diego.

I’m still locked on Grayson, this stranger who once kissed me like I was his everything.

Now?

His lip arches, snarling as he stares at me like I’m a freaking problem he never solved.

“Of course she has big tits. All cows have udders,” he counters, louder this time. “Unless the subscribers want chubby farm animals.”

Diego snorts. “Damn, you’re harsh.”

But Grayson isn’t laughing.

And neither am I.

“I can do anything,” I say, stepping toward him, lifting my chin, my voice confident. “I can take it in every hole. I’ve done it before.”

“Whoa,” Keysha says, staring like she doesn’t recognize me anymore.

Hell, I don’t, either. But I’m not sad. I’m not hurt. I’m mad.

Grayson chuckles, holding his chest. “She’s funny, right?” Then he glares at me, his smile cocky. “Then you’re down for a spit skewer?”

“A what? ”

“Put ya on all fours. Two guys. One cock in your mouth. One in your pussy. And you, the fat pig roasting in the middle.”

I balk, from the visual and the cruelty of his explanation.

Jace shakes his head. “Look man, Diego and I like her.”

I lift my chin higher. I must be possessed by alcohol because I say proudly, “Yeah! They like me. I’ll do a spit skewer or whatever they want. As long as it pays.”

Grayson’s eyes narrow and nostrils flare. But then, he does a double-take. “You’re wasted, aren’t you? When did you start drinking?”

The nerve!

I scoff.

Jace gestures for me to follow him. “We just need you to sign some paperwork first.”

I move, but Grayson’s body shifts, blocking me. That cocky bully mask drops. Just for a second, something real tumbles from his lips: “Don’t do this, Charlotte.”

Soft. Quiet. Scared.

But it’s too late. I wave him off like he’s an annoying pest.

“I’ll sign whatever,” I say casually to Jace, stepping around Grayson.

I strut and grab the hem of my dress to lift it over my head.

Before it clears my shoulders, Grayson’s hands are on me, yanking the red dress back down, covering me up.

“Don’t touch me!” I shriek.

And slap him .

Hard.

His head snaps to the side, and I hear someone gasp — maybe Keysha, maybe me.

But I’m not done.

I grab a champagne bottle off the table and hurl it at him with both hands. It shatters against the wall, glass scattering everywhere. My vision tunnels red.

“Fuck you, Grayson!” I scream. “You, you jerk!”

A wine glass. Gone. A plate. Smashed. Every time he takes a step toward me, I take two back, hurling whatever I can grab. I’m a woman on fire, a storm, a squealing, screeching force of betrayal and heartbreak.

“Stay away from me!” I snatch a block of knives and throw the whole thing at him.

He keeps walking toward me like he’s still trying to get through, like he’s got something to say.

So I hock a fat loogie. It hits him square in the eye!

He stops, slowly wiping his face. His fingers smearing it away, thick and shiny.

And when his gaze rises from under that brow...

I know I made a mistake.

His tone is ice cold. “Did you just fucking spit on me?”

Yet, as always, I can’t control my emotions. I bolt, vigorously pulling up on my dress again as I run. It rolls into a thick band of elastic, like a belt squeezing under my armpits. I rush behind a table and head for Jace, who is gawking as my freed chest bounces with every stride .

Just as I reach him, I’m yanked backward and lifted in the air. I’m over Grayson’s shoulder, the world spinning around me. I thump my fists on his back.

“Put me down!”

“Since when do you spit on me?” he growls.

Suddenly, I’m airborne.

A scream tears from my throat before water silences everything. I plunge deep into the pool, the cold wrapping around me like shock. I kick off the bottom, shooting toward the surface.

I reach air and gasp in my first breath, but just then, water splashes my face and my shoulders thump against the wall. My hair is yanked back, tilting my face up, and then—

Grayson’s mouth crashes into mine.

His tongue slams inside, and unlike Jace, my body is shaking like I’m being electrocuted.

I feel everything .

Too much.

I push my hands against him, the cotton of his shirt wet against my palms, clinging to his sculpted chest underneath. Despite my best efforts to push him away, he’s stronger and doesn’t budge. I turn my head, breaking our kiss.

He persists, his mouth tasting my face, my neck, his caresses hurried and hungry. I squirm, trying to slip away.

“I don’t like you,” I hiss. “I hate you!”

He finds my mouth again and murmurs against my lips. “You don’ t mean that.”

“I do! I hate you!”

But stupid freaking tears betray me, rushing from my eyes like a dam breaking.

His desperate kisses continue, his words branding down my neck. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m so fucking sorry.”

My voice cracks. “You left me!”

And, I break.

My forehead drops to his shoulder. I sob, ugly and loud, and his arms close around me like a vice, holding me to him like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. His cheek presses to my head, anchoring me while his hand strokes my hair — long, slow, soothing.

His deep voice murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you every day. I swear.”

I cry harder. “Why? Why did you leave me? I was so good to you.”

“You were.”

“Then why!”

He sighs and grumbles, “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not!” I try to push off him again, but his arm stays locked around me.

And that’s when I feel it. He’s shaking, too.

I cry more, not wanting to fall prey to him again.

He keeps me close, though. Quiet. When I finally stop, I sniffle as I raise my head and gaze into those hazel eyes that always paralyzed me.

My chin trembles. It’s so hard to look at him .

I wipe my eyes and realize my fingers are smudged black with eyeliner and mascara. I frown.

“You look beautiful,” he assures, as if reading my mind.

“No, I don’t,” I pout.

“I like your hair, too. And that dress. You look like... you know guys now.”

“Shut up,” I whine. “Please stop being nice to me. I hate you.”

Because that’s what I want. To hate him.

He guides me to the pool’s edge and lets go. His gaze sweeps down, stealing a glance at my nearly naked body. Our eyes lock for a moment, the intensity between us burns. But without a second look, his fingers tug my dress down, covering my body.

He lifts me effortlessly from the water. I sit on the ledge, dripping, trembling, staring down at him.

He kisses my knee gently, like he still likes me, every word and caress a tease of what could have been.

I scowl. “Looks like you got a great life here, partying in a penthouse. Screwing OnlyFans girls,” I say bitterly.

“I’m crew. Not a participant.”

I roll my eyes.

He pulls himself out of the pool and sits on the edge with me. We stare at the ocean.

His fingertips skim over mine, but I jerk my hand away.

“I told you, don’t touch me.”

“When did you start drinking?” he deflects, like he has any right to ask .

But I reply curtly, “When my life imploded. Brax went to prison. I lost Atticus... lost you.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. Look... I, uh, I have so much I want to tell you.” He swallows hard. He’s struggling to even look at me.

He seems nervous .

My heart begins to race because I haven’t seen him like this before.

“What is it?” I ask.

He breathes in deep. “The last time I saw you... I—”

“Grayson,” a woman’s voice interrupts.

I look over my shoulder.

Meghan.

“Of course,” I mumble under my breath, feeling so stupid for second-guessing myself. I scramble to my feet and rush past her.

“Charlotte. Stop!”

I don’t look back. I just need to get away from him. He’s like pain in human form. Every time I get close, he burns me.

Keysha holds the door open, and the elevator outside pings.

“Charlotte!” he calls out. “Wait!”

I glance over my shoulder one last time.

Across the room, I spot him. Meghan claws at his arm, trying to hold him back.

“Don’t leave me, Grayson!” she cries, panicked.

He barely looks at her.

His eyes are locked on mine.

“Charlotte,” he says, voice on edge. “I fucked up, okay? I should’ve never left because...”