“I thought you said pizza.”
He shrugs. “I thought pasta sounded a little better. I mean, it’s our first friend date, right?”
My entire body becomes hot at the word “date,” and I think he knows it by the quirk of his lips. “Not. A. Date.”
“Friend date, dummy. Let me in.”
He’s entirely too content. I mean really. You’d think the rich and spoiled would be pleased with how things turned out for them. But a lot of times, you hear their lives aren’t so great. But here Grayson is, always with a smile, always laughing, and looking actually fucking happy.
I move out of the way with a heavy sigh, and he brushes past me, the contact of his big-ass, muscular body brushing against mine nearly short-circuiting my brain for reasons I can’t explain.
Nothing feels normal around him.
Nothing.
Everything feels off-kilter and bizarre, but not in an unpleasant way like it should.
No . . . When he looks at me with those eyes, and his body is close to mine, I can’t think straight. I can barely breathe.
And for whatever reason . . . I don’t entirely hate it.
THIRTEEN
I can’t believe he opened the door, and I’m now standing in Rhett’s apartment. This can’t be real. It’s something I’ve dreamt about for what seems like forever. And yes . . . I know I’m getting way ahead of myself and acting like a lovesick idiot because he’s clearly hooking up with Bree . . . But still, it feels good being here.
Just being friends with him seems like a big accomplishment.
“Food?” I hold up the bag, and he grunts—not a talker, this one—and pulls down two plates from the cabinet.
He grabs two bottles of water, and then we sit down on the stools at a bar in the kitchen, scooping pasta onto the plates and starting to eat.
“This is so fucking weird,” he says before tipping the water bottle back against his lips and taking a big gulp. I can’t concentrate because my eyes are on his prominent Adam’s apple and the way it moves. Thinking about wanting to lick his throat, putting my lips and tongue every-fucking-where. Dragging my tongue lower and lower . . .
“Grayson?”
Shit. I force my eyes up to his, and he looks freaked-out with his brows raised. “Yeah?”
“I said this is weird, and then you go silent and are staring at me.”
Yeah. I need to get a grip. I sit up straighter and clear my throat. “What’s weird about two guys hanging out?”
“Two guys who haven’t even talked before. All of a sudden, we’re friends? It’s weird.”
“Only if you make it weird,” I quip, hoping he won’t suddenly decide to kick me out.
Thankfully, he shrugs and shovels pasta into his mouth. A mouth I can’t stop staring at. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I mean, I’ve had crushes before, but nothing like this.
And I’m pretty sure he’s totally untouchable, considering I saw Bree’s car leaving just as I was about to turn in. He’s with her. They’re the perfect, beautiful, slightly emo couple, and I’m the dumbass lusting after him like an idiot.
We finish our dinner in awkward silence as I sit there and evaluate my whole damn life. This is so not me. Quiet and awkward. What the fuck? I’m loud, outgoing, often cocky, and I get what I want.
What the hell is he doing to me?
“I do have cable.”
“What?” I come back from my haze just in time to hear Rhett and see him looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Which, to be fair, I think I have.
“Cable.” He nods toward the living area of his studio apartment to the nice comfortable-looking black suede couch. “I don’t have Netflix, but I have cable. We can try to find something to watch.”
“Oh.” I nod like an idiot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
He puts the dishes in the sink, and I move to the couch, still moving slowly and trying to convince myself to play it cool. I’ve been to State in several different sports. I’ve won games in the final seconds—effortlessly, I might add. But this? Hanging out with the guy I’ve had an obsession with for at least three years at his place? Yeah. This is pressure.
He sits down next to me on the other side of the couch, and I desperately want to scoot toward the middle. Hell, if I’m being honest, I’d love to park my ass on his lap. But you know . . . boundaries and all that.
He clicks through channels, leaving it on something neither of us pay attention to when his eyes meet mine. “Fuck. This is so weird.” he says again.
“It’s not.” I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “Why can’t we hang out? I mean, it makes sense. We go to the same school. Same class.”
“Different lives,” he shoots back quickly.
“Not all that different.” I kick my shoes off, leaving them by the couch and turn to face him, tucking one foot under me. “Both eighteen, right?”
“Yeah.” His voice does this gravelly, low thing, making it hard for me to focus, but I need to get past this hurdle.
“Okay. See? Common ground.”
He points at me. “Plays every single sport known to man.” He points to his own chest. “Never played a sport in my life and don’t even like to watch them.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I think that over, but it’s not missed by me that his eyes carefully track the movement. Our eyes meet as I clear my throat and again try to focus. “I don’t play every single sport. I fucking hate golf.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Not a sport.”
“It’s a sport, but it’s stupid.”
He leans back against the couch, his body seeming to relax a little and then points at me again. “Born to the parents you currently live with.”
“Not all it’s cracked up to be,” I volley back because I may not be adopted, but I’m pretty sure I’m not here for the right reasons. It’s more out of obligation and tradition.
He seems to process that and then shrugs. I’m calling that a point for me.
“We both like to draw,” I say with a half-grin as he meets my eyes in annoyance.
“But you dropped it. Why?”
Okay, we’re talking. Having an actual conversation. I can’t chicken out and stop talking now. “My dad.” I catch the sympathy in his eyes and quickly add, “He didn’t think it was a good enough elective, so I gave it up. But it was my choice.”
“Sure it was.” His full lips quirk.
“It was. It’s not like I was going to pursue a career in art.”
“And that’s so bad?” He straightens and turns to face me now. There’s the hostility in his eyes I’ve grown used to.
“No. It’s just not the plan.”
“Whose plan?”
I’m suddenly uncomfortable and kicking myself for opening up this discussion. This is not what I want to talk about right now. I know my future is already planned. For now, I just want to see what this insane attraction is to Rhett. I want to do something totally on my own while I can.
“Are you dating Bree?” I blurt out, and his eyes widen.
“What?”
I stand my ground because it’s already out there, might as well follow through. “Bree. I saw her leaving, and I know you guys are close. I’m just wondering how close, that’s all.”