Waiting For Us [COMPLETED]

chapter 22 - ____ and tell

Grayson:

"So this is where Grayson Summers lives."

I turn in my seat after cutting off my car's engine to look at Talia. Her addicting eyes flit across my house, examining everything the building presents.

I've brought girls to my house before, never really caring about what they saw or what they had to say about it's location or size—shitty and small. Now I care. Now I care what Talia thinks. I want to know if she too thinks it's in a shitty location, or if she thinks it's too small for a family of—mostly—six. She would never tell me this—then again, no one ever would—but I know the idea is there. It's always there.

"This is it," I say with a shrug, unbuckling myself from the seat. Talia follows my action and does the same.

Her hair blows in the wind when she climbs out of the car, similarly to the way it did last Friday night. This time, she pushes it aside herself, not needing my helping hands. I almost kissed her that night. I would have if I didn't hesitate. I think she would have kissed me back, too. Hopefully.

I had a hard time sleeping that night. Staring up at my bedroom ceiling, I could only think about her lips on mine. Her fingers would be tangled around my neck and snaked through my hair. Her body would be curved into mine, pressing against my chest. And then, when we would have pulled apart, I would have seen her lips full and red, a heavy breath blowing through them. My lips would have looked the same. It would have been perfect.

But it never happened. And now, all I can think about is what would change if it did.

Would we avoid each other? Would we stop being friends? Would we kiss again and again until we got sick of the taste? I would never get sick of it, knowing that once I taste her, I will be addicted forever.

"Ice cream?" Talia asks, forcing me out of my day dream. Her face is bright when I look at it, which I know is only because she's excited for eating ice cream in the morning, and not being with me.

Tough.

"Yeah," I say with a nod.

I lead her up the stairs to my front door, grabbing the key and inserting inside the lock. The door is usually jammed, so I turn my body and shove open the door with my shoulder.

We walk into the kitchen and Talia now examines the inside of my house. There's not a whole lot to look at. The kitchen and living room are attached, a line running through where the carpet meets the tile. The tan couch in the living room has a few mysterious stains on it, but other than that, the house is fairly clean. At least I have that going for me.

I pull open the freezer drawer and am greeted by four tubs of ice cream. Talia leans over and peers inside next to me.

"That's a lot of ice cream," she says with a quick laugh. "Why do some of them say 'property of Viv?'"