by Tia Lewis
I smirked. “They’ll be heartbroken. They really thought you three bonded.”
“Oh, we did,” he assured me. “I just was a bit wasted at the time.”
“So I hear.” I squeezed his hand to show him I was only teasing. He smiled.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I listened to what Chris said, and he listened to me. I’m not—this—I’m not willing to lose it.”
Hope flared in my chest, desperately. How could I be so hopeful, so trusting, when ten minutes ago I’d been on the floor, sure I was destined to be alone?
Grayson offered me a soft smile, and my stomach flipped. Right, I snorted to myself. As if I stood a chance. I’d always risk it for Grayson, I thought.
But reality, too, was threatening to dampen the spark inside of me ignited by his fervent words. “Your manager—he’s important, Grayson. He’s important to your job and, you know, to you. His opinion matters.”
“You matter,” he replied. He tilted his head a little lower, looking at me earnestly. His eyes were still stormy, and his smile was still soft. I felt my resolve crumbling. “I’ve told you this already. You matter.”
I barely stopped myself from swooning. “You matter to me, too,” I said quietly.
His answering grin made me wish I had screamed it.
Still, though, I still felt the prickling of fear at the base of my skull. I rubbed my lips together, trying to figure out the phrasing before I opened my mouth. “It’s just,” I started slowly, “that there are things we haven’t dealt with. That we haven’t spoken about or, or, I don’t know. I just—your manager doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Whether as your friend or your manager, it doesn’t matter, right? Because if it’s not a good idea.”
I stopped, unable to go on. I had struggled through my point enough to make it, I thought. I waited for him to consider his words, trying not to fidget with the silence around us. Luckily, he didn’t take as long as I did to respond.
“I know that there are complications,” he said. He ran his free hand through his hair, tugging at the tufts of brown hair. “It’s not going to be easy. I just—I don’t care. I think it’s worth it.” His gaze suddenly sharpened, an unexpected vulnerability softening his face. “Right? Don’t you?”
I considered the question. It was hard to answer.
For me, I knew it. I knew Grayson was worth it, was worth anything. No one, nothing, had ever made me feel this way. Had ever made life feel like it was worth living and remembering. Had made my heart speed up and my breathing slow down. I knew irrevocably that he was the reason I felt this way. That was more than worth it.
But it wasn’t the same for him. He was giving up more than he should have to for me. He was willing to hide in the shadows so my face wouldn’t be dragged in the tabloids, willing to fight with his manager, willing to become drinking buddies with my cousin and roommate. He was willing to put himself into my life fully. But I couldn’t be a part of Grayson’s life.
And was that worth this? Was I worth all that for Grayson?
But Grayson was still looking at me as if I was more than he thought I was. As if I did matter as if I was enough. And in the dark of my diner, with our hands clasped and his eyes a new shade of blue, I pretended not to feel the pain like sharp knives throughout my skin.
“Yes,” I lied. “Absolutely.”
Jade
Before I even realized it, Grayson’s three months came to an end.
We were at Alana’s house again, Grayson teaching the boys how to best memorize lines for a school play they were in when Alana handed me the calendar she kept in her kitchen. She had marked a few days that she wanted off from the diner and I had agreed to put it on my phone calendar so I wouldn’t forget.
But staring at me from the pages, mockingly, was an expiration date only a week away. My stomach fell into the pit of my stomach, and before I could school the devastation on my face, Alana saw it and barely concealed her concern at my sharp glare.
Our three months were almost up, and I couldn’t stomach it. I watched him as he recited lines with Brad and Brian, the twins trying to copy the actor’s stance and cadence. His hair had grown to a ridiculously unruly length, constantly falling in front of his eyes and needing to be pushed behind his ears. Grayson had admitted that he liked having his hair like this because once he was cast, he always had to trim it to a neat, short style. I preferred it like this.
He looked over Brian’s head, winking. My heart fluttered, and I smiled back.
“I like him,” Todd announced. Alana rolled her eyes, and I raised an eyebrow. Todd looked between us, frowning. “What? I do. He’s nice.”
I laughed. Nicer than me, you mean. “He is,” I agreed.
I typed out the dates that Alana wanted off work and handed her back the calendar, studiously refusing to look back at the only date that actually mattered on the calendar. One week.
He hadn’t mentioned leaving. Though I supposed, I hadn’t mentioned staying either. We had made plans that certainly would spill over into the time that he was supposed to be gone, though—like now, with Grayson helping the boys and promising to be there for the opening night. He’d even started helping out around the diner—exclusively refilling coffees, as that was really the only job he was capable of. His flour-covered hotel room turned out to be one of his better attempts at cooking.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it made me feel a little less breathless when I thought about the days passing.
When the boys started yawning, and Alana ushered them upstairs to go to sleep, Grayson and I said our goodbyes and slipped out the door. He wove his fingers through mine and tugged me toward the direction of his hotel room with determination, and I allowed it, letting him drag me closer so that I could rest my head on his shoulder as we walked.
It was finally starting to warm up, though the sun had long ago set and I knew I’d be chilly if I weren’t pressed so tightly against Grayson as we headed toward the hotel. The walk barely took fifteen minutes, and I found that I didn’t mind it much like this. I pulled back a little, lifting my head and squeezing his hand before letting it go as we entered the hotel and went up the elevator.
He yawned, hiding it in his elbow. I smiled.
We intertwined our fingers again after exiting the elevator and seeing no one in the hallway. It was an extra precaution we’d started taking without talking about it. I didn’t mind as much as I thought I would.
He didn’t bother flickering on the lights, just stepping out of his shoes and tossing his jacket and hat on the small table. I followed suit, toeing my shoes off and hanging my coat on the rack.
The curtains were open still, the position of the room letting a bit of moonlight seep into the space. He looked nice like that, standing in a strip of glowing moonlight, slowly taking his long-sleeved top off, his eyes heavy with sleep. Not that it was surprising that he looked nice. I just hadn’t gotten used to it, how each day with him managed to take my breath away. It was a bit unfair, frankly.
He turned to me, cocking his head. A smile ghosted his features, pulling at the strings in my chest that seemed to be directly tied to the corners of his mouth.
“Come over here,” he said, his voice rough with sleepiness. He held out a hand, and I scrambled over to him, taking it. His smile widened at my eagerness.
He dropped his shirt on the floor and tugged at the bottom of my shirt, raising it above my head and discarding it on the floor with his own. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bed, both of us falling onto it. Grayson laughed at our rather graceless descent and rolled over, so he was on his side, propping his head up on his hand.
“What’s got you quiet tonight?” he asked. I positioned myself, so I was mirroring him, smiling when he reached over to rake his hand through my hair. His fingernails dragged against my scalp, the feeling making me keen softly.
He ran his thumb down the side of my face. I leaned into the touch. “Nothing.”
He hummed, tsking
underneath his tongue. I almost pointed out that he’d gotten that from Alana, but thought it too endearing to ruin.
The moon spilled over his side, highlighting half of his face and arm. His cheekbones were bright and sharp, looking something dangerous from this position. I almost moved to kiss them, feel their strength beneath the give of my mouth, but I felt too good with his hand in my hair to disturb it.
“I don’t believe you,” he murmured. My eyes fluttered closed as his fingers deftly worked through my hair. It felt so good. The bed groaned as he scooted a little closer, reaching around to the other side of my head. “What’s wrong?”
My whole body felt like jello. The bed was soft, and his hand was firm, and his cinnamon breath was blowing across my lips.
“It’s just.” I sighed, rubbing my face into the pillow a bit. “You’re scheduled to leave soon.”
The words fell out, an accusation and a plea all rolled in one. He inhaled sharply, his fingers hesitating.
The seconds ticked on. I watched his face, looking for any sign of distress or worry. I watched his face for anything. After a moment, though, my fingers started to move again, and the pinched expression relaxed. He didn’t reply.
Instead, he tilted his head, letting his hand fall a little until he was cupping my jaw and capturing my lips with his own.
I melted instantly, kissing him back eagerly. I shifted until Grayson was on his back, I hovered above him, our lips moving with each other slowly. I tilted my head, nudging his bottom lip with my tongue. His lips parted instantly, and I deepened the kiss, swallowing the groan he produced and kissing him a bit harder for it.
He wound one arm around my neck, the other gripping at my hip tightly. I ground my hips into his, our mouths both parting in moans at the sensation. He kissed me with more vigor, but I pulled back, slowly, looking down at him.
The apples of his cheeks were blotted pink, and his blue eyes were dark and hooded, lips kiss swollen and red, wet from my tongue. Heat flashed harshly in my core, my body trembling above his.
I lowered myself, lips meeting his as he stretched up to meet me, this kiss slower than the last, more languid. The cinnamon taste was less pronounced tonight, but still there in the corner of his mouth and lips. I chased it, my mind fogging until no thoughts were able to make it through except please and more.
He pushed on my shoulder, hooking his leg around mine and rolling us so that he was on top. He bit on my bottom lip, too hard, and I bucked my hips at the sensation, groaning. He swiped his tongue over the bite mark and sucked my lip into his mouth, releasing it with a pop to trail wet kisses down my neck and the tops of my breasts.
He fisted one hand in my tangled hair, the other in the sheets next to me as he jutted his hips and curse words fell from his lips. His mouth continued to tug and lick and bite at the sensitive skin, a softly bruising trail down my neck and collarbone, weaving down my chest. I was nothing but fiery sensations, all desperation, and pleas beneath his warm body. I hated the jeans we wore, separating us. My eyes nearly rolled in the back of my head when his tongue swiped across my bottom lip, recapturing me in a demanding kiss. I moved my hands, gripping at his shoulders, sliding them down his arms. I wanted to feel everything and know everything.
He was leaving. And I wanted so much more.
He pulled away, gasping for air. He rested his forehead against mine, both of us panting. I could see the different shades of brown his freckles made across the bridge of his nose. I couldn’t believe it had been these stupid freckles that had enraptured me that first day we’d met.
Three months. Possibly the slowest three months I’d ever lived through, while simultaneously passing the quickest. His lips were still bruised pink, and they spread into a wide smile. My own mouth tingled from the proximity. Then, his lips spread a bit further, and he was laughing, loudly, and I couldn’t stop my chest from bubbling and my own laughter joining in.
He fell next to me, our shoulders touching and shaking as we laughed. I wrapped an arm around his waist, my whole body shaking with the effort to keep my laughter in.
After a minute or so, we both quieted down, our boisterous laughter shifting to occasional chuckles. We grinned at each other, a bit stupidly, and I reached out, swiping my thumb against his bottom lip before cupping his face gently. He leaned into the touch, his smile pressed against my palm.
“We’re good at that,” he joked. I let out another chuckle, my chest still heaving a bit. He turned to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist, and pressing his face into the crook of my neck, sighing contently. “This, too.”
“Mhmm,” I hummed my agreement, shuffling a bit to bury my face in his curls. His arm was heavy on me, warmth spreading out from it to fill me entirely. Grayson let out a yawn and pressed his lips to my neck, a quick kiss.
“Night,” he mumbled, burrowing a bit closer. I tightened the grip I had around his waist, hugging him closer. I shifted so I could drop a kiss on his chest.
“Night,” I said back, quietly. My eyes were heavy, and I let them drop, drifting off to sleep easily, the tightrope in my chest completely unraveled and my thoughts cleared, the light of the moon peering in from the window.
Grayson
She was going to kill me without even trying. Her body, her eyes, her scent, her laugh, everything called to me. I don’t know how much longer I could restrain myself when we were together like this. She was so fucking beautiful and genuine. I had never met anyone like her before. This is why I had to take things slow—I wanted her to know she mattered to me. I could easily fuck her like we both wanted, but I wanted what we had to be different. She was worth the wait—she mattered—what we had mattered. I would take things slowly and enjoy having her in my arms. When she knew how important she was to me—then, and only then, would I make love to her.
Jade
When I woke the next morning, Grayson grumbled and tightened his grip around my waist. We had fallen asleep in our jeans, and I shifted, uncomfortable from the roughness of them. The sun was still soft from the window, and I hoped that meant I hadn’t overslept too much to open the diner on time.
Slowly, I tried to slip out of bed without him realizing. But the second I had both feet on the floor, he shot up, his face panicked. When he saw that it was just me, he relaxed, his smile warm. The left side of his face was a bit pink from having it pressed against my back all night, his eyes bright blue as he rubbed the sleep from them. He yawned, stretching upward, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the movement in his body, and at his abdominal muscles as they flexed.
He ran a hand through his already ridiculously high hair. It didn’t help any, and I loved it all the more.
“Early,” he said, his voice low and scratchy. I would rather he perpetually be waking up, so his voice would always have that thick gravel in it. It made small shivers run up my spine and my chest squeeze. “Too early.”
“Yes,” I agreed, leaning a knee on the bed to push him gently, watching him bounce a little as he fell back on the pillows. His answering laugh was bright and full, surprise coloring his face and his mouth too busy smiling to prepare for the kiss I pressed to the side of it. “But I have work.”
He groaned, lower lip slipping out in a bit of a pout. “Too early.”
“Good argument,” I teased, standing up again. I popped my back as I stretched and yawned delicately. “But the diner opens early, you know.”
He huffed, and I bit back a laugh as I stepped into the bathroom to do a quick finger brushing and wash my face. He was adorably petulant in the mornings, I mused. Briefly, I realized how surreal it was that I knew something like that about Grayson Sparling.
I shook my head and grabbed my previously discarded shirt, throwing it on. It was wrinkled after a night on the floor, but it was still relatively clean, and I didn’t really want to stop by my house to change. I considered bringing a few pieces of clothing over to his room, if he didn’t mind since it’d make things a bit easier—but I stopped short, remembering
that we had less than a week until he was set to leave.
I swallowed heavily and took a moment to school my expression before turning back to him. Surprisingly, he was already standing and buttoning his jeans.
“Go back to sleep,” I told him.
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll head in with you, if that’s okay.” I raised an eyebrow. “I have to meet Chris in a bit anyway. Might as well do it over the best breakfast in the world.”
He kissed my cheek, grabbing a shirt from his closet and slipping it over his head. This one was a deep blue, and I kept looking at him as I pulled my shoes on, sneaking glances to see the way his eyes contrasted against the sea blue shirt.
It was brilliant, and I bit the inside of my cheek to muffle my smile.
He headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up quickly.
“Ready!” he declared, throwing himself into the chair next to me. The hotel room was more of a suite and was much too large. I liked it anyway.
“Me, too.” I finished the tie on my shoe and slipped my jacket on quickly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beanie, shoving it over his head. It was orange and horrible, but he still looked good wearing it. I smoothed a curl that slipped out the front.
“Oh, hold on.” He darted back into his closet, coming out with a gray beanie. He grinned and carefully put it on my head, tugging it low on my forehead and on top of my ears. He took a step back, tapping a finger to his lips. He nodded, appraisingly, before grinning. “I approve.”
My cheeks warmed. “I don’t remember asking.”
“Hmm.” He slid his arm through mine, wiggling his eyebrows. “I suppose you didn’t.”
We laughed, and he locked the door behind us as we left the hotel room. By the time we entered the lobby, Grayson had taken a step away from me, leaving a respectable distance between us as if we hadn’t spent the night in the same bed, even though I was wearing the same clothes I wore the day before and fresh bruises marring my neck.