Broken Girls And Broken Boys

Chapter Ten: Who else would bring the downfall of the players?

Grant takes my hand in his once again and I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach by loosing myself in the magnificent building-  exquisite murals and paintings that cover ever wall, a lavish dining room and the massive ballroom occupied by thousands of beautifully dressed guests. It is a palace fit for the wealthy, a play room for the insanely rich. I love it.

It doesn't stop the thrum of energy prickling at my skin.

He pulls me into the dining room only to grasp a young waiter. His hand is tight in mine as if he fears I might escape and the shock through my veins intensifies. Not that he has to worry about me running off, I'd probably get lost in this maze.

"Hello, I'm Grant Mitchell. We have a reservation for half seven," his words are gentle and I try not to be enchanted by the way he speaks. I think I catch the waiter sway a little, intoxicated by the melody and deep rich tone of his voice. She smiles widely, dazed, before quickly checking the device in her hand and typing something into it. It beeps loudly, the sound ringing over the constant chatter of people and she nods her head, satisfied with whatever it produced.

Before I can utter a single word she guides us away from the crowded dining room and toward another set of doors. "You did understand what I meant on the phone didn't you?" Grant asks his words soft and coaxing- he is graceful at manipulation. The girl nods in reply and continues to lead us away from the quiet music and dim clinking of cutlery on plates and glasses against glasses. No one speaks for a while; the awkward silence makes my head pound.

"Where are we going?" the words fall out my mouth before I have chance to stop them- it's not like they were aimed at anyone in particular, I'm just not good at waiting things out. No one responds and I slump my shoulders slightly, sighing to myself. Grant squeezes my hand slightly and I look up to see a delicate smile on his handsome features. It's strange to see something other than a smirk light up his face. It sits comfortably as if it has belonged there all along.

I smile too, unable to stop it spreading across my face. The waiter stops in front of yet another set of grand double doors. I exhale shaky breath as she pushes them open, leading us out into the cold night. I can't help but gasp as I take in the breath-taking view- the whole city alight in the midst of the night. In front of us is a single candle-lit table behind a glass pane.

"We have a chef's special for this occasion. First date?" she asks, with a knowing smile strewn across her face. Grant nods, pulling me flush against his side. I breath out a 'yes' as she leads us to our seats. "You are a beautiful couple," the girl gushes, her smile bright and blinding. I blush slightly as Grant pulls out a chair for me.

"There is a bottle of red for you there. You're both eighteen right?" she asks and Grant cuts me off before I even have chance to deny it. He might be eighteen but my birthday isn't until February and I feel bad for lying.

"Yes we are. Would you mind getting us two glasses with our meal as well though?" it's phrased as a question but I know he isn't really asking at all.

"Of course," is the reply and then we are left alone with the stunning view. Grant takes his own seat and stares at me.

"She's right you know," his smirk returns as he speaks and I can't help but miss the way his smile softened his harsh, attractive features. "We are a gorgeous couple. Especially you...wow, our babies would be adorable."

I roll my eyes (told you it would come back sooner or later) and stifle my own smirk. "Shut up Grant, you're beginning to sound like a soppy teenage girl that fantasises about having babies with the hottest boy in the year."

He lets out a laugh and it's strange to hear something so human come out of someone so inhumane. Instead of answering, he unscrews the bottle of wine in front of us and begins to pour a glass. He hands it to me and I shake my head. "C'mon Kendall, how is this any different from the stale beer and tequila you drink at those shitty parties?" he asks, pushing the glass into my hand.