Page 9 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter seven

"Street Lights" - Kanye West

Mia

Being in Grayson’s bedroom is… weird.

Surely there’s a better word for how I feel about being alone with Grayson in his bedroom, but right now, weird is the best I have.

I don't know what I expected his room to look like, but it isn’t this.

The walls that aren’t covered with bookshelves or records are painted navy blue.

The strangest thing is that this room certainly doesn’t look like a room that a husband and wife would share.

This room is all Grayson, and the whole room smells like his cologne.

Normally, I hate when cologne smell is overpowering, but this smells like… home.

Grayson also has a framed poster of his dad on a wall with a few posters of his other favorite bands.

I very clearly remember the day that my mom told me that Grayson and Johanna’s dad overdosed when Grayson was thirteen and Johanna and I were nine.

I remember watching the medical team roll the covered gurney out of their house and into the black coroner’s van.

At the time, I had been too young to know what was involved or what those words meant, but now, lying here, looking at a poster of Grayson’s dead father, I understand it all.

It had been so hard on them, especially Grayson, because from that point forward he was left to feel like there was no one in his family that understood him.

Jonah Harris, no matter how troubled he’d been, had been Grayson’s lifeline to music.

It’s endearing to see how he’s kept Jonah’s memory alive.

I probably would’ve enjoyed this moment a hell of a lot more if my mind didn’t keep drifting off and thinking of Lily Vance.

Does she know what’s going on with Grayson?

“Thank you,” Grayson murmurs, his voice low and rough. “For sitting with me, just being here without asking anything of me.”

The sound of his voice catches me off guard. I had gotten so used to the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence next to me, the hum of the music curling around us like a secret. Being here with him feels dangerously effortless.

“Of course,” I say quietly. “If you ever do want to talk… I hope you know that I’m here.”

Grayson smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The kind of smile that says thank you without ever saying I’m okay.

I walk to the record player and hover over the sleeves for a moment, overwhelmed by choice, then give up and set the needle down at a random spot on the record already there. A haunting melody picks up where the silence leaves off.

I return to the bed again and I glance at Grayson. He stares up at the ceiling, jaw tight, brows pulled together, lost in thought. But the second he notices my eyes on him, he turns to face me, meeting my gaze.

Let me know

Do I still got time to grow?

Things ain't always set in stone

That be known let me know…

“Let me just…” he whispers, sitting up slightly. “Try something.”

I freeze.

He reaches for me—one hand carefully tracing my jaw while the other slips into mine, fingers threading with a quiet certainty that steals my breath from my lungs. His eyes never leave mine, searching for something, asking a question he doesn’t say out loud.

Then he kisses me.

Soft. Careful. Like he’s giving me a chance to stop him.

I don’t.

The kiss deepens quickly, as if he’d said fuck it and allowed himself to give into the temptation and tension that’s been brewing between us since I arrived. Like he’s given himself permission to feel. And so help me God, he does.

I kiss him back. Harder.

I can’t control myself anymore either. I don’t want to.

My lips find him with the desperation I can’t ignore anymore.

My heart beats so hard that my chest aches, and every nerve in my body comes alive like I’ve never been touched before.

I’m breathless, head spinning, and soaked through my underwear as we melt into each other like something inevitable—and it’s just a kiss.

But then—

Reality comes crashing down. Sharp. Brutal. Slamming into me like cold water.

My eyes snap open as the truth that only I seem to be aware of burns through the haze of desire.

No. No, no, no.

It’s wrong. All of it. No matter how much I want him—and God, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything else—this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

“Grayson… no.”

I break away from him and turn my face away, barely able to catch my breath.

“What?” he asks, confused, trying to meet my eyes again as his hand still rests on my jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t!” I say sharply.

I’m pissed. At him. At myself for allowing it to get this far.

How could he not understand that?

Why is he making me say it?

He blinks, still not letting go, as if he knows what I’m about to say—like he’s been waiting for it.

I could’ve gotten lost in his midnight blue eyes if I wanted to, but I can’t get lost in him now.

“You’re married,” I say bluntly, my voice edged with something dangerously close to anger. “Rylee told me. Lily Vance is your wife, but you’re here kissing me.”

Grayson pauses. His hand drops.

For a moment, he says nothing. His expression shifts, unreadable—not guilt, not regret, just calculation. Like he’s trying to find the right words. The right spin. That pisses me off even more.

My chest tightens. My skin burns.

“Say something, Grayson,” I demand, hating the sound of my own voice as it cracks with anger. “Tell me this isn't what it looks like. That you didn’t just make me the other woman.”

“We’re separated.” His voice is quiet, measured, but there’s an undeniable weight behind it.

“We’ve been separated for months now. We haven’t signed the final papers yet—we couldn’t until we got through the six month separation period that the state requires.

But now we have and we both know it’s been over for a long time.

And you… fuck, Mia. The things you do to me—it just makes everything clearer.

It’s finished with her. It’s just not finished on paper. ”

I don’t know what to say.

Is there anything to say?

Before he can make it any worse, I’m off the bed and out in the hallway, back towards my room. I only hope that he won’t follow me, because what just happened… it can’t happen again, even if I desperately want it to.

Shutting the door behind me, back in the safety of the room that isn’t mine, I release the pent up breath I’d held in my lungs that I hadn't realized was there. I wish for the millionth time since I arrived that I had never come to LA, that I hadn’t seen Grayson again, that I could just continue to live in my own world, one without the man of my dreams and his absentee wife.

Because even if I walk away now—even if I pack my bags and leave tonight—I won’t be able to forget.

Maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of the entire situation than what it really is, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.

Every feeling has always felt larger than life—not just about Grayson.

About every hard thing I’ve ever been through.

I’ve loved Grayson… forever. Since I was fourteen years old, back when he was just the boy across the street and I was just the girl who didn’t stand a chance, I’ve loved him. I thought I’d let go of that fantasy a long time ago.

But when he kissed me… it didn't feel like a fantasy anymore. It felt real.

It felt like everything I’ve ever wanted—except for the fact that he still belongs to someone else.

Even if he claims it’s just on paper.

Once I deem it safe to leave my room, I grab my laptop out of one of my bags and the memory card from my camera, heading out to the second floor balcony.

I need to get my head on straight, I think that feeling the ocean air against my face will help me get there.

Just when I get settled into one of the absurdly comfortable chaise lounges, I hear the door open from behind me.

I cringe slightly, hoping with all my heart that it isn’t Grayson.

I can’t deal with him—not yet.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re working,” Brandon’s voice says.

I release the tension in my shoulders and turn to face him as he finds his way to the chaise lounge beside mine.

“Not really,” I shrug. “I just wanted to see if I got any quality shots from the shows.”

“That still counts as work,” he chuckles. “Why don’t you come in and hang out with the rest of us?”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

I don’t really want to have the conversation of why not, but maybe I need to. Maybe if I talk about it, it will start to make more sense.

“Why?” Brandon asks. “Because of Grayson? Rylee filled me in some, but I don’t know much. Why don’t you tell me?”

“He’s… infuriating,” I sigh. “The entire situation is infuriating. It’s not like I came here to see him, or even expected that I would. It was just a huge coincidence. Now I have, and everything’s just… a mess. It’s like I’m the kid with the crush on the older guy all over again.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” he replies. “More than you know, in fact.”

I don’t know how he could possibly understand how I feel.

Who else would this happen to?

“How?” I blurt before I can prevent myself from speaking.

“Johanna. I’ve been in love with her pretty much since I met her. I almost had her, too, until I didn’t. I just… I get it.”

So, Brandon Jackson, of all people, understands my pain. Something I never expected, but something that is definitely welcome.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Assuming you wouldn’t understand… I’m sorry.”

Brandon smiles sympathetically. Looking at him, it’s the first time I recognize how beautiful his smile is.

“It’s okay,” he replies. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Brandon!” Tony hollers urgently from downstairs. “Get down here!”

Brandon shrugs apologetically, giving my shoulder a good squeeze before he heads for the door. “We’ll talk, I promise.”

I nod and watch him go, the sea breeze whispering over the edge of the balcony as I try to steady the storm inside my chest.