Call U Tomorrow by Montell Fish 

Can I call you tomorrow? Hear me out, maybe this is the death of us.

After spending my night in a silent hotel room with cops circling all exits, no phone to entertain myself with, I can't help but lay awake as opposed to sleeping.

It's around 4 in the morning when i'm harshly snapped awake by a sharp knock on the door.

"Paris Rooney?" A voice booms. I sheepishly drop to my feet and slink across the room, prying the door open. I know if someone has made it this far to my door they must be trusted.

It's a tall man in a cops outfit. My phone in his hand, the photo of Grayson and I asleep on the couch at Hawthorne House — taken by Xander unbeknownst to us — shines brightly on the man's thigh. My home screen is my reason on why to wake up every morning.

"Everything okay?" He asks me, stepping inside and locking the door as he crosses the room and checks out the window, down onto the courtyard of paparazzi crowding.

"Just fantastic." I quip. "Well we've done several thorough searches of your house. Didn't find anyone or any signs of entry. We also tried to track the number on your phone but discovered there was never actually a text message received in the first place." He informs me.

"But that's imposs-"

"Impossible? How could this have happened? Look kid, false reporting of crimes could have got you serious jail time in any other circumstances. But because it's 4am and I can't be bothered doing the paperwork, i'm letting you go on the trust this will never happen again." He says flatly.

"But officer, I didn't lie." I say firmly. "Course you didn't." He winks playfully.

He starts to leave. "Here's your phone. Cute dick pics of your boyfriend, but I suggest if you're getting your phone taken by cops at least private them." He teases, tossing my phone back.

"Maybe if you weren't looking you perv!" I squeal, realizing if he saw photos of Grayson he probably saw some of me.

"Just doing my job kid. Get home safe." He smiles as he walks out, taking his officers with him.

I grunt as I flop back on the hotel bed and book an uber to escort me home. When I get back I make sure to lock all doors and windows before finally going to sleep.

When I get to work the next morning at 7am with only two hours of sleep, coffee seems to smell sickening, different to how it usually does.

This coffee house is literally all I have these days occupying my free time, not that I have a lot of free time. It feels like all i'm doing is making coffee, serving coffee, taking coffee orders, cleaning up coffee, taking photos with people who remember me from dancing or Avery, spilling coffee all down my shirt and almost having a mental breakdown in the break room. You know, the usual.

Tonight I'm the one locking up, which isn't my favourite job in the world, but it always reminds me of that time I closed up with Grayson waiting for me, which makes the job a lot easier. I call him now and keep him on speaker as I sweep up the floors.

"What do you mean they didn't find anything?" Grayson demands furiously. "They think I lied. I mean.. maybe I was just paranoid and hallucinated or something. I mean now I'm starting to doubt it myself." I admit.

"I'm really starting to think you being out there with no security team is a bad idea." Grayson sighs. "Gray, I just said I think I imagined it. The whole reason I don't have security is because I want to live normally here." I remind him.

"I know you do baby, but I can't sleep back here without knowing you're safe." He tells me.

"Well I usually am safe. Only time you need to worry is when I'm out getting drunk, which is my plans for tonight." I tease.

"You're going out tonight?" He asks curiously.

I place the mop back in its bucket in the back before popping back around to wipe some tables next to the window.

"Yeah. Couple of us are going to a Harvard frat party." I inform him. "Well don't get too drunk, and if you do make sure you have someone sober enough to get you home safe, and call me if anything happens, and be safe, and remember your keys but don't let yourself lose them, and-" He lists in a ramble.

"I got it Gray. Stop stressing." I laugh. "I know you've got it P." He nods in agreement.

"Just remember-" He starts, before being cut off.

A sharp blistering noise screams and echoes around the shop. The glass on the mirror where I am cleaning a table comes shattering all around my body, stabbing me at least a million times. A scream of not only pain but fear escapes my lips.

A brick which caused this broken window lands at the front counter, the force of the throw making it go far.

"P? Paris what was that?" Grayson yells in worry.

I start sobbing, in the sheer pain of every single cut all over my body.

"Paris!" Grayson booms, demanding some sort of answer.

I use all my strength to overcome the pain and turn around to see who threw it. Some drunk looking guys stumble away cackling, but they're too fast to catch.

"Drunk guys." I groan to Grayson as I pry my feet to walk in the direction of my phone to answer my frantically worried boyfriend.

"Why'd you scream? What was that noise? What happened? Are you hurt?" He asks.

"Scared. Brick through window. Glass hit me. Yes." I answer every question in a pained groan as I bawl.

Grayson hits the FaceTime button instead of just a call so he can see me, I hit accept and watch as his confused face drop to one of guilt and worry.

"I'm calling 911." He informs me in no time. I just stand here, trying not to move so the glass doesn't hurt me anymore.

Soon enough the sirens are on their way and Grayson is comforting me, telling me it's gonna be okay.

An ambulance and cop car pull up outside the coffee house. The cops ask me questions for a moment before the paramedics insist they must treat me first.

I'm laid down on my stomach on the ambulance bed, they cut my clothes off from the back and the cops insist on take photos of my entire bare body for evidence in case the incident is followed up, which Grayson insists it will be.

"Just relax your body. We can't take shards out if you're tense." A paramedic orders. 

They start plucking out one piece at a time, starting at my shoulders.

I wince every single time. They pull out large fragments, taking my blood with it. On each and every piece, they use tweezers to remove little glass splinters.

"Paris?" Grayson asks through the phone, now propped up on a table.

"Yeah." I groan out. "Breathe." He says calmingly. It's now I realize i've been holding my breath this whole time.

I do as he says and take deep shaky breaths.

"This is a big bit." The paramedic warns me. A loud cry escapes my throat when it is extracted.

They work there way from my shoulders all the way down my back, down my ass, thighs and legs then calfs and finally a couple pieces in my ankles.

The cops get more photos of my bloody body for evidence.

"We'll clean this up for you, some disinfectant, then we'll work on band-aids." The paramedics tell me.

The liquid placed all over my body burns. The second the band-aids are on I realize they cut my clothes off so I have to wear some smelly shit from the coffee shops lost and found.

The caution tape surrounding the place is already up, I receive an apologetic text from my boss, to which I say it's not his fault.

I'm escorted home in a cop car, Grayson still on call.

I'm met at home with all my friends gathering around the window, sighing at the sight of me in a cop car yet again.

I step inside, "Why is it you're always getting yourself in trouble?" Maddie groans, hugging me gently, I wince as she squeezes my back unknowing of the pain crippling through me.

"I fear trouble just follows me." I shrug sarcastically, sulking up the stairs and flopping down onto my bed on my stomach.

The cop remains downstairs with all of my friends, explaining exactly what has happened. 

"You good? Need me to visit?" Grayson asks me through the phone.

"No, I'll be okay." I shrug off.

"We need to figure out who's doing all of this to you." He comments.

"Last night was my imagination, tonight was some drunk ass hole. Just a coincidence they were so close." I settle.

"You don't think it was a personal attack?" He asks me. "I know it wasn't." I confirm.

"You're sure?" He asks. "Yeah. And I'm fine. Just a few cuts." I confirm.

"I miss you." He reminds me. "Miss you too. 30 days now." I say. "30 days." He nods

(a/n. I just realised it's been a whole month since I updated!! I've been so distracted with other projects that I've completely abandoned this! But I promise, updates will go back to normal soon!! Thanks for reading)