0.5 - i think it's cute

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nervous - the neighbourhood

you got me nervous to speak

I wake up at ten the next morning, which is a lot later than I usually wake up

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I wake up at ten the next morning, which is a lot later than I usually wake up. I jump when I see Grayson standing in the doorway. When did he get up? I always woke up when Welsey got out of bed. I mean, Wesley wasn't very quiet ever, but still.

"How long have you been there?" I question, rubbing my eyes. He shrugs.

"Not long. You make noises when you're waking up" he points out. I sit up.

"I know. Wesley hated it" I say sadly.

"I think it's cute"

Before I can even try to stutter out a reaction, he pushes himself off the doorframe and walks away. He puts his head back in after a few seconds.

"Coffees ready for you" he smirks. He leaves again and I hear him go down the stairs.

I let out a sigh and rub my face with my hands.

Did he just call me cute? I don't know if he was serious or not.

I wait until my cheeks calm down before slowly making my way downstairs. Grayson is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup in his hand. He gestures to the second mug on the counter.

"Thank you," I say shyly. I take the mug and sit at the island, sipping the hot drink.

"You're moving?" he asks me. I hesitate before nodding.

"Yeah, figured I should move on finally" I answer. His eyebrows raise.

"You're not over Wesley?" he asks rudely. My face twist at his tone.

"What? I didn't mean it like that, I don't have the best memories there" I say defensively. He eyes me carefully. Even if I'm not over him, it's none of his business.

"You goin' by yourself?" he asks quietly. I nod.

"Can I go with you?" he continues. My eyes widen. He wants to go with me? Why would he want to do that?

"Why?" I respond without thinking. I open my mouth to apologize, but then remember how much he hates it when I do.

"Why not?" he shrugs. I try to think of a reason for him not to go.

"Just don't know why you would want to go," I say honestly. He continues to look at me.

"Why wouldn't I? I've got nothing to do today. You coming to my fight tonight?" he questions.

The length of his sentences shock me, used to short answers. Well, other than last night. I can't believe we slept in the same bed.

"You can't fight, your hand is hurt" I frown. He looks down at his wrapped hand before looking back at me.

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