A/N- This is my first work of fan fiction. Even though it doesn't deal with the exact characters of FSOG, they were inspired by them. I appreciate any reviews, favorites, or follows to this story! Please be my motivation to continue. - much love- CP Hating the feeling of being touched, I yank my shoulder out of his reach. I let very few people touch me, prominently my mother, brother, and Charlie. Confusion sweeps his eyes. "I didn't mean to startle you," his voice is so lovely "I just couldn't keep my eyes off you, Caroline..correct?" He reaches his arm out as if to guide me away. I break eye contact to see a few angry people trying to exit but can't since I'm blocking the door. I mumble "Sorry" to angry faces as I step aside towards Grant. "And I prefer Cari" I correct trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. It's hard to sound pleasant when all I want to do is get the fuck out of here and get back to my car for some release. I get a chill which causes me to fumble my bag causing the contents spill onto the concrete. I curse as I bend down to collect everything. As I pick up my belongings, I see a trembling pair of hands trying to aid me. "Thank you," I mutter under my breath. When everything is placed back into my bag, I stand up carefully to maintain my balance. I feel so shaken. You'd feel a thousand times better back in the car. "I'm Grant" he extends his trembling hand. I reach out and hesitantly grasp it, but pull away before he can get a grip. I force a smile to show that I'm not trying to be a bitch, it's just the way I am. "Do you have plans for dinner?" I lift my head to meet his words. His eyes really are striking. I'm starting to feel nauseous. "To be honest I don't have much of an appetite," I frown. "Well, to be honest with you Cari" –he purrs – "I dont have much of an appetite either. I am more so looking for company. It's either with you, or nice-cold bottle of gin." Is this supposed to be a guilt trip? I search for an answer in his eyes but all I see is sadness. I don't want to be responsible for causing this man to drink, but I know that being around another addict is a recipe for disaster. However, I really don't have anything planned for the evening and this may, even momentarily, distract me from using. "Anywhere special in mind?" I ask with an innocent grin plastered on my face. "I'm sure I can think of something," he smirks"let me just get the car ready." Okay, I'm confused. As we exit building and walk out onto the side-walk he pulls out his phone. "I'm finished, and I have company." Great, he gets a ride from his mother. I start to second guess our dinner arrangement when I see an all black Mercedes pull up to the corner. Instantly chills run through my spine. 'That's the car he drove,' I think to myself. As I start to feel dizzy, Grant places his hand on the small of my back as support. He guides me down to the curb and opens the back door for me. As we step into his car I relax into the cool leather seat. "Do you feel okay?" he asks as he places his hand onto mine. Except I don't pull back. This is the second time he's touched me and I haven't felt repulsed, but I don't know if it's because I feel as if I'm going to vomit or if I actually don't mind him touching me. "Would you mind if we stopped by my car, I need to grab something. I'm just around the corner" I say as I motion towards where I'm parked. He looks down at me with his emerald eyes filled with sadness. "Do you actually need something, or are you feeling as if you want to use?" he questioned. Immediately I felt angered. How dare he? I'm a fucking adult. "You can just drop me off there then" I snap. I break from his gaze and stare out the window. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help" he states in a commanding voice. I then look back to him feeling remorse for my harsh words. "I'm sorry, I'm normally not such a bitter person" I explain "I just don't feel fucking okay right now." His eyes smile at me. "I don't either, baby." he grins. His teeth are as white as the room we were just in. And as straight as they possibly could. I shift awkwardly in my seat, searching for a cooler spot. I think he notices because he leans forward and increases the air conditioner. He then presses a button and the tinted glass separating us from the driver shifts. "To Reyce's, Reynolds" he commands and then presses the bottom once more, enclosing us again. "I'm definitely not dressed for Reyce's " I squeak. I, personally, have never been there but I remember Charlie telling me about his parents taking him there a time or two. Definitely up scale and not a jeans type of place. I glance over and notice what he's wearing. A grey T-shirt that clings in all the right places, and snug dark faded denim. Obviously designer. My eyes shift to the Rolex on his wrist as he searches for the time. "I'd say you look stunning. Definitely more nice than my apparel." He rolls his eyes at me, and squeezes my hand with a smile. I pull my cellphone out of my pocket in search for the time. 5:08pm "How are you going to manage to get into Reyce's at 5:00pm on a Friday?" I question. He doesn't answer, he just grins while looking out of the window. We ride in silence for the next fifteen minutes until we pull over. "Ready?" he gleams, his eyes no longer filled with sadness. Instead they sparkle. They really do look like gemstones. I pull my compact out of my bag and touch up my make up that has been altered because of cold sweat. "As i'll ever be," I try to say enthusiastically but it comes out more sarcastic. I bite my cheek. He opens the door and pulls me out, cradling me around his arm. For some reason I feel safe. A man at the door tilts his hat and shakes Grants hand. "Thank you Gerald," Grant mutters. The man looks nervous but visibly relaxes as we enter the building. Grant pulls me into him tighter, and walks a little faster. The host turns her head to face us, and her smile fades. It then emerges brighter than before. "You're usual place, Mr. Reyce?" she inquires. Wait, Mr. Reyce? Before I can think I'm being dragged up a winding staircase. He guides me gently, which is surprising since I can feel the shaking of his hand against my back. As we arrive at a private table that overlooks the restaurant, he pulls out my chair and I take a seat. "Mr. Reyce?" I repeat in the same tone as the hostess. He smiles and stares down at his shaking hands. "I didn't know if you'd come if you knew..." he trails off. " A bottle of the usual, Mr. Reyce?" a red-headed waitress asks, batting her eyelashes. "Um..no—er—not today. A vanilla coke for me," He looks at me with questioning eyes. "Same for me, thank you" I respond without breaking eye contact. I don't think our waitress appreciated not having his attention, because she slammed her book closed and walked away without a word.
We sit for hours, one vanilla coke after another, discussing life. Not ours directly, but politics, artwork, and news worthy events. I feel comfortable with him. I love the way his eyes sparkle every time I speak. Or the way he never interrupts me and acts as thought he's really listening to what I'm saying. "So what do you do for a living, Cari?" I shift uncomfortably. Because of my very wealthy ex step-dad I have a trust. With a considerable amount of money, even larger than what my mother made out from the divorce. The money disgusts me because of the filth who which supplied it, but I figure it's good enough to buy my heroin. "Well, at the moment I'm weighing my options" God, he's going to think I'm a loser. "I dropped out of school last year and I haven't decided if I'm wanting to go back" I continued. But he doesn't seem to care, his smile still radiating at me. "And you?" "I'm in business, Cari." he replies, a little too innocently. I hold my hands up as if I'm finished, and I try to fight this stupid smile off of my face. As we finish the last of our drinks, he stands and helps me out of my seat. "I've had a lovely time with you, Cari" he eyes me a grin. "I can say the same Grant." I reply.
As we pull up to my car, I see him sink into his seat. Okay, I don't have the nicest car, but come on! I begin to reach for the handle when he stops me and pulls his face towards mine. He runs his hand through his blond locks as if he's battling with himself. He then cups my face and pulls his lips into mine. I'm shocked, and I want to pull away—but I don't. I grab his hair and tug it as I kiss back. I feel a fire inside that I've never felt before. His tongue slowly parts my lips as if he's waiting for me to tell him to stop. But for some reason, I don't. I accept it and roll my own around it. I begin to feel slick between my legs. He pulls me over the top of him and places his hands firmly on to my hips, rocking me in a slow motion over his erection. As I feel his hardness, I stiffen. I break away as tears spring into my eyes. "I-I'm sorry" he pants. "Grant..I'm not a girl you want to mess with. I'm fucked up." I lose control of my tears and they fall down my face. His demeanor then shifts, as he wraps his arm around me in a tight embrace. "Shh—its okay Cari," he whispers into my ear. "I need to get going Grant, it's late" I tremble. "Can I see you tomorrow?" he pleads with his eyes. "y-yes." I respond as I open my phone. "Put your number in and I'll call you" I whisper as I pass it towards him. He enters his number and places it back into my hand, leaning down to kiss it as he does. I open up the door and release myself from the car. "Tomorrow." he says with a small grin as I shut the door.