When We Were Young

LIV: wildest dreams

Shocked, I feel his arms move around my waist, pulling me against him.

It takes me a moment to recover before I kiss him back, partly because I haven't kissed anyone in a really (almost embarrassingly) long time so this is almost like a re-first kiss for me and partly because this is Gray.

Our mouths move against each other with ease once I get into it, as if we have been doing this for awhile now. He's warm against the soft breeze that is blowing through the near midnight spring air and the chilly water that surrounds us. From this close, I breathe in his intoxicating cinnamon smell in a way that is so new, yet so familiar to me.

This is Gray. Tate's brother, Gray. My best friend, Gray.

And me. Gray's best friend, me. Lacking exemplary romantic relationships, me.

As Gray's tongue prods against my lips, asking me to deepen the kiss, I pull back.

His eyes slowly open and he looks at me with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, which I feel in my gut too. I also feel guilt.

"W-W-What was that?" I sputter out, removing myself from his embrace.

"For the past few weeks, heck, months or even years, if I'm being honest, I've been hoping I'd have the chance to do that one day. That we'd have the chance to..."

Gray recognizes horror on my face and as if a door is shut between us, he shuts down. "Oh shit, did I read that wrong?"

He didn't. God knows I've been waiting for that moment between us too. Waiting, but never ever expecting it to happen. Now that it's happened, I can see how grand of a mistake it truly is.

"We can't."

A wave of understanding appears on his face and he steps back from me. "You're right."

I exhale, feeling relieved that he gets it. He's a reasonable person most of the time, he can see that we don't work for so many reasons.

That's the end of that. We swim back to shore and wrap ourselves in the towels that we had brought, barely speaking another word to each other. On the walk back to the motel, Gray is a mere few feet away from me, but even that feels so distant compared to the easygoing nature of our interactions prior to the kiss. Damn him and his stupid mouth.

I can count on one hand the amount of times that Gray and I have been uncomfortable around each other. First, there was that period of time when I was twelve where I had a massive crush on him. Each and every one of my interactions with him was fuelled by my unrequited attraction to him, which needless to say, did not make for very great interactions at all. Next, there was the incident when Gray came home from college, wasted and smelling of weed. I didn't see him at all after our blowup, but there definitely was that feeling of being uncomfortable. Finally, when Gray was having nightmares and refused to let me in. That was a horrible few weeks knowing that there was an issue and I couldn't do anything about it.

I guess this adds to the list. In fact, this probably tops the list as the most uncomfortable I have ever felt around Gray. For some reason, it feels like I rejected him, even though he, too, realized how catastrophic it could be if we got together.

It's like I've lusted for him for years now and now that it's actually happening, his mist has finally disappeared and I see us for who we are. Especially me, who knows relationships as the relentless fighting of my parents or the subdued comfort of my coupling with Ida. He's so loving and so passionate, it would never work with someone who doesn't even know how to show intimacy. I would make him miserable and destroy the friendship we've fostered for years.

All that is not to mention how messy my life is right now. I can't be dealing with a new relationship on top of my scholarship crisis.

The night culminates with each of us showering and setting an alarm for 8 o'clock the next morning. It is going to be a long day, especially if we keep this awkward tension up.

I tuck myself underneath the covers, after thoroughly inspecting the sheets for any bed bugs or weird stains while Gray was showering. As I bury the side of my face into a pillow, he moves out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. For a moment, I consider closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep just so I would not have to deal with this strange tension between us anymore. I know Gray would see right through that, so I don't bother.

"Can you pass me a pillow?" he asks with a hand already out.

My eyebrows furrow. "What for?"

"I'm sleeping on the armchair."

"What? Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Rolling my eyes, I put a hand defensively on the other pillow. "I already told you. I'm not uncomfortable."

"Well, you were uncomfortable with the kiss, so..." he doesn't seem to know where his thought was going with that sentence.

"That's not the same."

He chuckles darkly. "Right, so you're okay with being the caring friend who pities me enough to offer some comfort at night, but you would never actually be in a relationship with someone like me."

A flash of regret washes over his brown orbs. I can tell he's about to apologize when I respond sharply, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what, forget it. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't get to do that!" I sit up, fully alert. "I do not pity you and I am not here because my saviour complex is activated!"

He sits on the edge of the bed, still clad in just his towel. "Mave, it's honestly fine. I get it, I'm a charity case. I'm lucky to have you caring for me enough to be willing to comfort me at night and come with me to find my family. I wouldn't want to date me either. Especially not if I was you."

"And who am I?" I challenge in a sharp tone.

"Well..." He takes a moment to think. "You are the most kind-hearted person I know, which is why you are doing this and have done so much for Tate and I. You're also from a wealthy family and I'm not. I have nothing to offer you or your family and even more, my mom was a drug addict and my father... well, we'll find out but he can't be that good of a person if he chose to leave his son. I already know your mom doesn't like me. I'm just not good enough for you, I guess."

I don't think of people as just their status or their money, but in many ways, my mother does. She doesn't like Gray, it's a fact. Mainly because of his socioeconomic status. However, if I wanted to be with him, she wouldn't shun me for it. She'd be unhappy, sure, but she, better than anyone, understands the pull of love and the heartbreak than family unacceptance can have.

Speaking about mom makes my mind wander to the foremost dilemma again.

The parallel roads begin to emerge for me. One road is that of my future in the field of history. Mom would absolutely not want me to switch into that major because I would lose everything if I did. Undoubtedly, I would betray her trust and lose my inheritance much in the same manner that she had and that she regrets. Plus, history is a risky field and I will probably end up living a life of wishing I had listened to her. The other road is a relationship with Grayson Wallace. This path is one that overlaps with the path my mother chose to take when she married my father.

However, I can't help but think that the second road is not one of betrayal in the same way the first path is because my mother understands. She was given the ultimatum of inheritance or love and she chose the latter, resulting in the absolute breaking down of any life she would have known. Though mom may seem cold and stubborn, I truly believe she would show me the empathy she never got in this situation.

(There's also a point where these two roads cross, where I have both a new major and Grayson. Now, that excites me more than it should.)

She wouldn't like my relationship with Gray at first, but she'd come to accept it.

She would never accept me choosing not to inherit a portion of the company since she never got the chance, but perhaps she could accept this.

And I want it. I have never admitted to myself how much I want this. Now that it is right in front of me, the desire to have this is so strong.

"You know I don't give a shit about that." I can't believe he still thinks that of me. Deep down, I understand that it's not so much what he thinks of me, but rather how he views himself. "Is that why you think I pulled away from the kiss?"