The Unknowns | ✓

06.

the unknowns • chapter 6

• • •

Grayson's POV

"You ask the most difficult questions," Grace spoke slowly. Grayson knew she was tipsy, and he faced the challenge of stopping Grace, halting her moment of freedom—bliss—or watching her as she finally let loose, unfazed and unbothered by her inner thoughts and societal expectations that were caving in on her.

"I think every day I face the challenge of determining what I like better, fries or chips. Now, they're both made of potatoes, but the style is different. Fries exude happiness and fulfillment with the crisp on the outside and soft on the inside texture, but chips—they're a work of wonder. They come in so many flavors, the crunchiness, the variety; it's something to live for, truly."

"You could say you just like potatoes, and that's your favorite food—"

"No," Grace cut Grayson off. "Potatoes alone don't excite individuals, they'll see a round-ish ball and be like uh okay. There's no extra humph, the spark is missing. That's why the specification is what's necessary. Absolutely atrocious how you can say I just like potatoes. It's the options, the infinite opportunities you have with them that make it special, and each in their own unique ways."

"I take back what I said," Grayson apologized, chuckling. "And I understand why you can't choose one over another. They are both delicious."

"Of course they are, my favorite food is objectively the best food. My tastebuds are a work of art. But, you know what seems like the best snack now?" Grace asked, hinting toward a response Grayson didn't know he was ready for.

"What would that be?" He naively replied.

"You."

Grayson froze. He didn't know if he was imagining this situation because of his few drinks he had, or if this was reality. He knew because of his high tolerance, he could take many drinks before fully getting drunk, but the words that escaped Grace's mouth were not words he would have thought he would hear unless he was drunk.

"You're drunk right now," He said, pinching himself, ensuring he wasn't playing make-believe right now.

"You're the one who said I could use you with anything, can I take up the offer now?" Grace pointed out before taking another drink.

"I guess I should have added an asterisk to clarify it only that it holds when you're sober," Grayson carefully responded. "It wouldn't be right for me, and it might not be something you actually want."

"A good man," Grace commented, lifting her cup for a cheers, a symbol of acknowledgement. Though she was drunk, a smile slowly appeared on her face—one Grayson fully recognized.

Grayson was still counting down the hours in his mind. It was 4:00 AM now, which meant he had 6 hours before his friends would make a decision about his employment status at a company he helped create.

He believed it was foolish, completely acknowledging the fact that the company would have never reached the position it was at without his contributions. He knew the exact event, the precise moment in time when he lost any sense of control in the company. The chaos erupted when the organizational status of the employees shifted and his friends chose to believe an outsider over him.

In reality, Grayson knew what laid ahead of him; he was going to become unemployed, not fired but strongly requested—almost forced—to leave.

He didn't know if he should fight against the decision with all his will, or accept the fact. He didn't know if he should engage in another battle, or admit defeat. He didn't know if he should give his final opinion, supported with factual evidence, or surrender.

His train of thought, however, broke because of the woman who sat in front of him. Grace, who was slowly winding down as the alcohol consumed her body, proved to still care for others though nearly unconscious.

"You're worried about something aren't you? Your job?" Grace asked.

"I don't know if I should try this one last time or not," Grayson replied, nodding his head. "I don't know if I want to. My passion for the mission still exists, but I no longer want to work with the individuals that make up the company."

"I think you should give it your best shot. You tell them your opinions and hold your ground, and they can either accept it or not, but, at least, you can have some closure. You gave it your all, the rest is for them."

"That logic does make sense."

"You got it, I know you do. And maybe you'll work for the company I'll work for in a few months as your next job."

"For some reason, I think I find greater joy in working for your company's rival," He teased her.

"It'll make us an even powerful couple," Grace winked.

Although Grayson knew Grace was speaking in this fashion because she was drunk, he wasn't against the idea. It was simple in his mind: she was someone he enjoyed spending his time with, and, if the feeling was mutual, she would be someone Grayson would ask to date.

"You should sleep on those thoughts and let me know when you're sober, Grace," He smiled. "It seems like we'll both have time to kill in the great city of NYC."

"A shy poet and you didn't even know it."

"What rhymed there?"

"City. NYC," Grace confidently responded, stressing the ends of both words.

"I'll bring you to your room, it really is time for you to wind down and sleep," Grayson chuckled. A cute rhyme, she really tried there.

While attempting to help Grace stand up, Grayson knew she wouldn't be able to walk properly. And in the proper prince fashion, he conceded to Grace, carrying her to her room. Making sure she was comfortable before leaving, he softly closed the door before taking a few steps to the right.

Inserting his key into room 814 and crashing into his bed, his last thought made him smile to sleep. 1314. Maybe his Chinese ancestors were telling him something, as well. 

• • •

a/n: hello again. very subtly i will write it here. 1314, apparently, means forever in chinese. okay, with that information, take it as you will. >.<

thank you so much for reading and it looks like summer break is treating me well, given i can update much faster. see y'all again soon ^-^