Chapters of Gray

He had those thickly rimmed glasses similar to the 3D ones that teenagers tend to pop the lenses out of, but they were real, aiding him to see clearly through a thin layer of polycarbonate. The lower region of the lenses encasings sloped well beyond his defined cheek bones. Braces visibly held up his trousers, poking out from underneath his tacky little pin-striped suit. I'd never really been one to find attraction toward pin-stripes on such attire. Or any attire, really. Flat colour was always the way to go, when it came to formal wear. Even in ties, yet there were those exceptions for the crooked stripes; pretty colours, of course, to the addition of black or white or even both. Obviously, he was not my type. But when I say that, you think I'm in the denial stage, right? So what if he smelled like dewberries and fresh apricots? Men should not smell like fruit unless you were standing with them in an orchard during the middle of a monsoon. Even then, the rain should have washed away all traces of fruity scents from both you and the boy and the fallen fermenting reproductive systems of the trees surrounding you.

The teal of his eyes were unnaturally so and could only be reasoned for their colour through contacts, and a delicious shade, at that. But, before you get ahead of yourself and say that I was attracted to this boy, let me put your mind at ease. His hair, although a wonderful shade of dark chocolate to perfectly complement his eyes, was too long. For some girls, this would be the perfect length, sweeping over his brow and possibly grazing the nape of his neck, but I couldn't stand it. If I was to run my fingers through a guy's hair, it would be an inch; give another, at best.

As though screaming for attention, his nose stuck out like a broad-shouldered swimmer or Am. football player in a convention for nerds; Paul Bunyan in the Seven Dwarves' home with their families and thus extended visiting. This obvious statement was only accentuated by the thick framing of his glasses. His eyebrows were as unruly as an overgrown English Ivy crawling across his forehead; okay, so, maybe it wasn't so drastic and horrible, but it sure was prominent and obnoxious. I suppose I had ought to be kinder to him, for this, seeing as he was male and he couldn't really control this without being ridiculed by his friends for manicuring his lawn...eyebrows, sorry.

He was tall and lanky, and that pin-stripe hung nicely from his shoulders, which weren't broad, but they weren't horribly narrow; for all I could tell, he was well muscled, beneath that suit. And I couldn't believe he was now my sister's husband's best friend. Since when did college boys stare at me?

Full lips stared back at me from across the dully lit room, taunting me with that crooked little smile that kept wavering with his faulty one-liner expression. He was probably used to finding girls easily, at a place like this. Conventions for the unmarried. Yeah, right. My sister, herself, had caught the bouquet at every wedding she had attended for the last year, and now it was her turn. When she didn't catch it, I did, and I wasn't about to get married; no way. And, again, before you jump to conclusions, you little wolf hound, I didn't want to die alone; I just wasn't as focused on finding myself a companion and was paying more attention to my studies. Being a twelfth year at a prestigious secondary school wasn't all that easy, mind you. Oh, so, perhaps it wasn't as high-end as it may sound, but it was somewhere that the colleges looked for, and the U especially. When I attended uni, I was going there; I had been accepted my freshman year.

So what, call me over-prepared. It's better than not having a clue where you'll be attending the fall of your graduation. That's probably how he was set up.

No place for him to go but up, I suppose.

Lindy called to me from her perch upon the white bench at the other end of the reception hall and I nodded to her. Of course, she wouldn't have it. She eyed me, then the best man, sizing him up. Again, with her approving smile, she skittered over to me in her overly white, overly laced, poufed wedding dress, her ruby reds revealing those pearly whites behind. Her photographer complimented her every move, whereas always found something wrong with the way that I had been posed with the family, his bitter tongue cutting into 'Give Said The Little Stream' every time I became irritated with him. Horrible man, that one; outward beauty, only, for his photoes!

"Hey, Gray! You know that Eli has been looking at you for the last half hour, right?"

Oo, lucky me; she was squealing loud enough that Adam, her new husband, could hear us. He smiled in our direction with a wink directed toward me.

Might I remind you? Lucky me.

"Yeah. And your point is...?"

"—That this could be your chance at romance; finally! Do you realize that you haven't had a single boyfriend all throughout high school? Or even your life? How fair can that be? Eli really likes you; he mentioned you to Adam, when he saw the pictures. Adam toned down your capabilities, in my eyes."

"Lindy, really? Do you always have to butt into my love-life?"

"Or lack thereof?"

This hurt, and she knew it. Shock struck her expression, and she instantly moved to shove putty into the already cracked dam.

"Gray, I'm sorry, I—"

"No, Lin. You're right. Graysen Burkley has no love-life."

I'd shoved past her before she could further damage my complexion, not that I really cared for that. It was more the façade that I put up for this whole ordeal. I didn't like weddings, and there was a reason for it. Underneath the gray exterior of not caring, I cared a lot. I was a closeted romantic that couldn't handle to be shown what she was missing out on, because she didn't have the face or body for something that guys would truly appreciate. Jerks.

Outside, it was raining. Oh, how poetic. Just great for a moment like this:

Distressed Damsel rushes from the celebration hall, away from the canopy entryway, with tears streaming down her face, the bitter tang of salt kissing her lips.

Prince Charming rushes after said damsel, and sweeps her off of her feet after noting her beauty and elegance, inner and outward appearance being exposed in long monologue.

Distressed Damsel is kissed gingerly as said prince whisks her away to his kingdom far, far away from troubles to be married that very night.

The only difference in this scene is that the damsel is not greeted by a prince with blond hair and a white stallion. There is no introduction of lips, and there is no kingdom far away.

In my scene, there's the blonde with insanely long hair, to the point where it is no longer attractive, walking out cool and composed. There's the clacking of heels behind her, but she ignores them, assuming the gait to be that of her sister or other female party. There is lightening overhead as rain meets the girl, pounding at her head before she can even realize the severity of the storm raging beyond the cover of the roof. Ignoring this fact, I—she—continues into the rain, only to be caught around the wrist as a black Dodge speeds inches in front of where she'd been previously standing.

Eli Parker holds Graysen Burkley tightly to his chest as he looks down at her with those too-teal eyes.

"I knew where I was going; they wouldn't have hit me, you know."

Eli simply laughs, shaking his head. "I know that. But I wasn't about to take any chances with you running across the street and not being able to catch you. You're a difficult girl to read, Gray."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh? And what would you prefer, Miss Graysen?"

"Burkley is just fine. Think of me as one of the guys."

A perplexed expression crosses Eli's face, but is quickly batted aside with a simple smile. "All right, then, Burkley. So you're the polar opposite of your sister?"

"Aren't we all the opposites of our siblings?" By this time, I was me again, releasing myself from his grasp. Even still, he latched onto my hands, keeping me close; well, as close as a resisting girl can remain.

"Mmm. I like a girl who can get a little dirt under her nails."

"How about a grease monkey who comes inside after playing basketball on the street with black feet from the gravel?"

That cheeky little grin only grew as he was finally allowed to pull me closer, refusing, this time, to let me flee.

"Even better."