Page 26 of The Absence of You
“Mate, I said, do you want another drink?” I am so done with this game.
“Yeah I do. I’ll come with you.” I follow Asher back indoors, leaving Charlotte behind.
I rummage around in the ice bucket for a couple of bottles of beer, and when I turn to hand Asher one, I notice his stare is fixed on me.
“Gonna ask you again, mate. What’s the story with you and the new girl?”
“There’s no story Ash.”
“So you keep saying, but I heard Meghan telling everyone Dahlia lives next-door to you.” Asher needs to drop this shit.
“Meghan needs to mind her own business.” I snap. “Does Mr. Canning know his daughter is reading the other students’ private files?”
“Probably.” Asher shrugs. He’s not wrong. Meghan has always taken advantage of her father being the head of the Sixth Form. She has him wrapped around her little finger. “So come on, spill. I’ve known you a long time, and I know there’s something you’re not saying. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Clearly Ash isn’t going to let this go.
“I knew her when we were kids.” I finally concede.
“And?”
“And that’s it. There’s no story. Her grandmother lives next door to me, Dahlia used to visit a lot when we were younger, and we’d hang out, then one day she stopped.” Asher narrows his eyes at me like he knows there is far more to it than that, but he doesn’t push it.
I’m not sure exactly how I would describe mine and Dahlia’s relationship to him, even if I wanted to. At the time, it felt important. But it clearly wasn’t as important to her as it was to me. I spent a long time thinking about what I’d do if I ever saw her again, but I never imagined it’d feel like this. Seeing her again is completely fucking with my head.
I watch through the kitchen window as she smiles at Maxwell. He gets up and walks towards the cabin, a swagger in his step like the arrogant twat that he is. As he enters the kitchen, he stops to talk to a couple of the guys.
“Looks like you’ve scored there, Maxie boy. The new girl is fit as fuck.” They laugh among themselves as I imagine how easily I could knock the smirks off those assholes’ faces. Maxwell looks out the window at Dahlia, where she’s now standing by the fire pit, chatting to Callie. He licks his lips like a goddamn predator.
“Yeah, and she’s begging for it,” he says, fist bumping his friend. “I’m getting some tonight.”
The next thing I know, I’ve thrown him up against the wall in the kitchen. Pinning him there with my left arm, I pull my right arm back and punch him before he even has time to react. I feel the crunch as my fist connects with his face and blood gushes from his nose, running over his mouth and dripping from his chin.
“What the fuck, Banks? Get your fucking hands off me!” Maxwell struggles against my grip as I grab his throat, squeezing tightly, watching as his eyes start to bulge.
“Grayson, what are you doing?” The soft sound of Dahlia’s voice breaks my blinding rage as I register her hands tugging at my arm. I let go of Maxwell as he slumps down the wall and gasps, desperately trying to get his breath back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
DAHLIA
Seeing Grayson trying to choke Maxwell has sobered me up real quick. Crouching down next to Maxwell, I look back up at Grayson as he towers above us, snarling. His friend Asher pulls him back as he shakes out his fist.
In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him lose his temper. Not even when things were really bad with his dad. He’d always been a sweet boy. Right now, shaking with rage, he’s barely recognisable, and not for the first time I wonder who the grown-up version of Grayson is. Because I sure as hell can’t see any of the little boy I’d once known in the man who stands in front of me.
I stand up and walk to the sink, dampening a cloth for Maxwell’s face.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Charlotte’s screeching voice fills the air.
“Your dickhead boyfriend just attacked me for no reason,” Maxwell answers her angrily. “Care to explain what the fuck that was about, Banks?”
I watch as Maxwell and Grayson stand facing each other, staring each other down. Charlotte gets in between them.
“What’s he talking about, Grayson? Why would you hit him?” She looks about as confused as I feel. The damp cloth in my hand wrung out, I hand it to Maxwell. He wipes his chin, but his teeth are still tinged with blood. Everyone in the room is watching the tense standoff between the pair.
“Maxwell was just leaving, weren’t you?” growls Grayson. Maxwell eyes him and then turns to me.
“Yeah, I’m going. I’ll give you a lift home, Dahlia.” He grabs my hand.
“The hell you will. You’ve been drinking,” snaps Grayson, his eyes focused on my hand in Maxwell’s.
