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Guarding My Heart

Gray

I got home safely, even though I was crying on the drive. I thought that crying would make me feel better, but it doesn’t take away the hurt that all of Mark’s words pierced into my heart. I hear it over and over in my head, breaking me down even further. I sit down in the lounge, clutching my bag to my chest, and just cry. I jump at the sound of my phone ringing. I ignore it, and I sniffle. My phone continues to ring. I take it out of my bag and I answer without looking at the screen.

“Hello,” I say between a sob and try to stop. I’m getting there slowly, but what makes me get there fast is the voice on the other side of the phone.

“Gray, you forgot your purse on your desk. Anyone could’ve taken it,” Mark says calmly this time.

I sniffled, " It’s okay…you can keep it until tomorrow.” I say, trying hard not to sob.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern.

I wipe my tears away. “Of course, I’m fine,” I say.

“I don’t believe you. Are you at least home?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes, I’m at home, and not at the club, so you can relax,” I say with a bit more anger to it.

“Gray…” he sighs on the other side of the line. “I’m coming over,” he says.

“No, there isn’t any need for that. I’m okay and I’m safe and I sure as hell don’t need a babysitter!” I say harshly with a scoff.

Another sigh comes from Mark “Gray-”

“No, Mark, I think I should see you tomorrow instead.” With that, I hang up. I get up from the sofa and walk upstairs to my room. What I need to do is get over Mark. To get over this stupid crush because it’s only making things worse for me. Mark lost an important client because of me. Maybe I also need to go back to the web design department. That should help me get over him.

I place my bag onto my bed and sit down. A hot shower is what I need right now, but nothing will fill this hole of heartache, nothing will heal it. My mind starts to drift to resign from Sternpoint completely, but I don’t want to leave. Well, there it is again, my stupid feelings for him.

After my shower, I wrap a towel around my body. I have been crying again. Every time my mind goes back to Mark and the words that are stuck in my brain and I sob. I see Mark’s name flash across my screen, but I don’t answer. And then I hear pounding on the door downstairs. I want to ignore both Mark calling me nonstop and whoever is pounding at the door, but it seems useless with my car in the driveway. Whoever it is knows I am home. I hurry down the stairs to answer the door. When I open the door, I am met with concerned forest-green eyes. Mark was staring at me, not saying anything. My lips are slightly parted, and hope rises within me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice strong and from breaking into a possible sob.

“I came to drop this off, and I could tell you weren’t okay over the phone. You-uh,” he says, looking down at my body. I look down, realizing that I am wearing only a towel. I don’t care anyway. I look up at him, and his eyes are softer, and he looks concerned. He meets my eyes again. “You are still not okay,” he says.

I hold out my hand for my purse. “Can I have my purse, please?” I ask with a sigh. He hands it over to me.

“Gray, can I come in?” he asks, his eyes almost pleading.

“Fine, come on in.” I open the door wider for him to enter, and I close it behind him.

“I can wait until you are dressed. I want to cook you dinner,” he gives me a soft smile. I roll my eyes.

“So, you’re my chef now too,” I state with sarcasm.

“Gray, I’m doing this because I want to.” his expression turns serious, holding my stare.

“Okay, make yourself at home while I change.” I huff as I walk up the stairs. I did not expect my evening to turn out this way, and I don’t know what changed his behavior. He was rude ass the entire day, but it just takes my crying for him to soften up again. I wanted to forget about him and his harsh words, but it still hurts like a bitch. At least I have managed to keep from crying anymore in his presence. Let’s not forget that I have this little hope inside of me. ugh.

I get dressed in black leggings and a black T-shirt. I tie my hair into a messy bun. I wonder where he learned to cook. The kitchen smells amazing as I walk in. There is still a lot that I don’t know about him or his friendship with my father. I sit down on the bar stool at the kitchen counter.

He is frying up some type of sandwich in the pan. He slides it onto my plate, it looks delicious. All of a sudden, the hunger for skipping lunch and dinner hits me. “Where did you learn to cook?” I ask.

“Your father taught me,” he says with a soft smile. He places his sandwich on his plate. I took a bite of the sandwich and it’s so amazing. I can’t help but moan and close my eyes. I open my eyes to see that Mark has taken a seat already and is watching me with a smile.

“It’s good,” I say.

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” he says as he starts to eat.

“You didn’t have to come here,” I say, I force myself to feel confident and not let myself get my hopes up that he might feel something towards me, because if I do, I am certain it will break me when he proves he doesn’t.

“I was concerned. You were crying, and I still want to be the person you can talk to when something is bothering you or if anything happens. With your father away on business, he asked me to take care of you and keep an eye on you,” he says.

“You didn’t need to show up though, I made you lose an important client today, and I feel so guilty about it,” I say and tears start to blur my vision, I set my half-eaten sandwich down on my plate and I stand up to leave, not wanting him to see me like this again.

“Gray, I’m sorry that I said all of those hurtful things to you,” he says as he gets up from his bar stool and walks to me. “I followed you to the parking lot after work, after I found your purse on your desk. I also grabbed my things immediately to go home.” He was in front of me now. “I watched you walk to your car in a hurry, with your head down. You were crying when you got into your car and sat there crying for a while before you left. I didn’t think you were okay, so I came here instead of going home myself,” he says.

A tear escapes and runs down my cheek. He wipes the tear away with his thumb, and I close my eyes. All of a sudden, I feel his breath on my lips. He is inches away from my face when I open my eyes, sucking in a small breath.

“I’m sorry for saying all those mean things to you,” he says. I shake my head, I no longer care about the words he said, I just want him to kiss me. It will not be me this time. His eyes move to my lips, and his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something,g but his phone rings and interrupts that thought. He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the caller “Shit!”, he growls. He looks up at me again. “I have to go,” he says. I nod.

“Thank you for bringing my purse and cooking dinner,” I say.

“I will always be here for you,” he says, looking at me with some type of longing in his eyes. “See you tomorrow,” he says and left.

I know that he feels something towards me. He wanted to kiss me, I could feel his desire too. Still, I have to keep my heart guarded and keep my hopes at bay.

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