I’m Sorry -- G.D.
A/N I literally wrote this in church help
Grayson Bailey Dolan has been my mortal enemy since second grade. With his constant prodding and poking at my feelings and destroying every ounce of confidence i had (though it was small) he’s had complete control of me. So as i sit here, letting him hold me against the wall by my shirt, i can only give in. “Look. I’ve told you before. Leave me and my friends alone.” “Grayson, I was literally just walking past you guys. I didn’t even say anything, you were the one who talked to me, so i talked back.” “I don’t care. Find another way around.” He spits, eyeing my face up and down. He let’s go of the tee shirt in his hand, making me fall to the floor. The entire cafeteria at this point was staring at us; some laughing. “Gray, you wouldn’t hit a girl!” One of his buddies yelled, cackling. “Don’t speak so soon.” He muttered under his breath, just enough for me to hear as he turned away, walking back to his table. I don’t quite understand why he hates me so much. Ever since we were little he’d call me tree for being tall and make fun of my acne. i just grew a little faster than most kids, that’s all. Once we reached high school, he outgrew me by a few inches, and i got rid of my acne- so he didn’t really have many things to call me anymore. But that didn’t stop him from being a dick. So I do the unspeakable, and I waltz myself right over to his table, and stand in front of him. He looks up to me with a smirk and his friends emit a chorus of “ooh”’s, and before i could lose the confidence i have, before i can second guess myself, i punch him, square in the nose. Right in his perfect little face, where it hurts the most. “Fuck!” He yells, the whole cafeteria shocked and gasping. “What the HELL is wrong with you?” He seethes, holding his nose. He pulls his hand away to reveal red running down his hand.
The principal’s office is never a fun visit. The smell of paper in the air is enough to make a person sick, and the fact i’m sitting next to Grayson makes everything even worse. “So, why did you punch Grayson in the face?” He turns to me and asks. “Cause she’s a-” Grayson cuts in.
“I asked her, Dolan.” He interjects, serving a disapproving look to Grayson.
“He was being a dick.” I reply bluntly. Frankly I don’t care anymore; he’s been mean to me for a long time.
I tell Principal Cole everything, every bit of what has been said and done since we were little.
“Here’s what I’m gonna do,” He sighs. “I’m gonna put you two in a room together for 6 hours, and you are going to discuss how you both are feeling.”
I get scared, worried he may hurt me back for punching him in the face while we’re in that room. What kind of punishment is this?
“Can’t you just give us detention and call it a day?” I ask rising from my seat a little.
I look over to Grayson’s face, and he looks timid, but red all over.
“No. We did this once about 5 years ago and it worked wonders. They ended up being best friends.” He says with a prideful look on his face, clasping his hands together across his paper scattered desk.
“What if we don’t do it?” Grayson pipes up, gravel in his voice.
We walk into our french classroom and everything is the same except for our hunched backs and no students or teachers.
We turn to look at the Principal and the counselor behind us, holding the door open.
“If you need anything, ring the office bell. Good luck, kiddos.” He says with a weak smile and closes the door, leaving two stunned teenagers.
“He even took our phones.” He says, kicking the desk next to him.
“Why did our parents agree to this?” I ask, looking at the ground, dreading the day to come.
“Well maybe if your dumbass didn’t punch me in the face we wouldn’t be here.” He grits, his voice extremely intimidating.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such a douchebag to me ever since you’d known me, I wouldn’t have punched you in the face.” I spit back, finally gaining the courage to look him in the face.
We get silent, and don’t speak to each other for two whole hours; we just sleep and, well frankly try not to look at each other.
Then finally, I hear the words.
“Do you know why I’ve always been a dick to you?” He asks, standing from his seat and walking toward me, though his voice sounds like he’s running out of oxygen.
“Actually no. I’ve never even done anything to you.” I say, tired as all get out, putting my face back into my folded arms on my desk.
He swings his leg over the seat in front of me, facing the back of the chair and sitting down. He lifts my face off my arms, lifting my face up to meet his eyes with his finger.
My heart stops.
I’ve never looked at him- like really looked at him. His eyes are like honey and his skin is the perfect golden tan. His hair is perfectly lush and brushed back away from his face, the dark shades flowing together like art. And his lips; god his lips.
“Because, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
I can feel my skin tingle and fire awaken where his finger on my chin is. My eyes widen in shock, and he looks at my lips, his eyes full of hunger.
“Then why-” He cuts me off with a kiss so hot it knocks my breath from my lungs, his hand on my face holding more authority and reason.
His lips are so intoxicating I forget where I am, the smell of his skin on my skin making me see stars.
I pull away to look at him, and also to get a grip on reality once again.
“I didn’t know how to handle it,” he whispers against my parted lips; he pulls away. “At first when we were little, I was just being a dickhead, but as time went on, i saw how gorgeous you were, and didn’t know what else to do other than be the same guy I’ve always been.” He says, looking away from me, tilting his head in shame.
He reaches to touch my hand, but pulls away like my skin is a hot stove.
“I’m sorry- really. No one should have to go through that.” He stands up.
“It’s just that, maybe being a total D-bag is easier?” He says, and I follow his action, getting out of my seat.
“Maybe I just-” I cut him off, smashing my lips against his, my hands on his chest. Our lips move frantically, our tongues sliding against each other like we’ve known each other’s bodies our whole lives. His hands snake around my waist, pressing me further against his torso and my hands slide up his chest and neck into this thick hair.
He grabs the bottoms of my thighs, lifts me up and wraps them around his hips, grinding them into my own.
In my head red flags are everywhere, telling me that this angsty, gorgeous, teenage boy is bad news. I know that, in the back of my mind.
I get it.
But I’ve never been around a boy so alluring before, almost as if the trail of fire he leaves behind on my skin when he touches me is some sort of siren.
He lays me down on some desk, laying his body on mine.
Our hips continue to grind against each other, small groans and whines slipping past our combined lips.
His big hands run up under my shirt to slip it off, the fabric thrown to the floor somewhere, and he wastes no time in unclipping my bra and throwing it to join my shirt.
He sits up but only for a split second to rip off his own shirt, revealing to me his tense muscles ripping across his skin. I can’t help but clench my thighs together at the sight, sucking in a breath. Lightening fast he comes back to me, bringing our lips back together in a searing hot kiss that makes my whole body catch fire.
He slips his hand underneath my panties, his fingers running in between my folds, feeling how embarrassingly wet I am.
“God, fuck.” He breathes against my lips as his middle finger rubs my clit softy; enough to make let out a loud moan.
I feel his hard on against my thigh, getting more and more hard by the second.
He pulls his hand away to take the rest of our clothes off, his torso back on top of mine, my legs around his waist.
He takes my red face in his hands, running his thumb over my cheekbone and gently asks, “Are you sure?” In the most sincere voice I’ve ever heard- and it’s especially strange coming from him.
“Yes, god please.” I say, breathing rather heavy. He places his forearms under my shoulders to get better leverage, and places one last kiss on my lips.
He looks deep into my eyes, deeper than anyone has ever looked, and pushes in.
“Gray, oh god.” I moan out; he’s huge. He slides in and out of me at an intense pace, his face buried in my neck occasionally pressing kisses there.
My breathing gets faster and faster, the moans erupting from me no longer able to be stifled.
He places his hand over my mouth, “Shh. What if they catch us?” The thought only makes the burning in my core more intense, making me groan against his hand.
I’m no virgin, but nothing in my life I’ve ever done has felt so damn good.
He lets out groans against my neck, the sound better than anything I’ve ever heard. He removes the hand from my mouth, and replaces it with his lips. We moan and whine louder than ever but our kiss stifles it just enough.
He reaches down to rub my clit, and that’s all I can handle. The euphoria that takes over me is nearly too much, and I pull away to yell his name one last time, his name rolling off my tongue like honey.
I see his face contort, and he pushes in so deep and cums inside me, soothing the burn I feel. We both freeze, taking in the pure pleasure.
“Holy fuck.” He says, giving me a messy kiss full of tongue and desire,
“Gray.” I whisper, my eyes slipping closed.
“I’m sorry I punched you in the face.”