Grey Waters

31: Kennedy

Greyson's being weird.

I think it might be because Sarah's coming today and he's regretting telling me she could stay over, so I knock on his door to rectify the situation.

"What?"

Um... that was rude.

"I made cookies. Well, I didn't make them really... I just took them out of the package and baked them. But still, they smell really good and I cooked them to perfection." Why do I talk so much?

"Okay." He answers, sounding annoying and I can't decide I'm I feel more hurt or more annoyed.

"Do you want one?"

"No." The way he says it makes me think he's genuinely annoyed with me, and I don't even know why.

"Okay. Are you okay?" I ask his door—that he still hasn't opened.

"Fine."

Oh he's totally not fine.

"If you don't want Sarah to come it's okay. I told you I'll just see her tomorrow if you don't want people here." I don't know how to say it without saying like I'm putting the whole decision on him, so it probably sounds like I'm blaming him if he doesn't want her here, even though I really don't mind—it's his apartment.

"Jesus, I already told you I don't care." I can feel his glare through the wood and I blink a couple times at his tone.

"Then why are you being such an asshole?" It slips out before I can make a pros and cons list of saying it and I consider running across the hall and locking myself in my room.

He's silent for a moment before his footsteps near the door and I brace myself for him to yell at me or maybe throw me out the window. I watch the door handle turn slowly and stare at the ground as the door swings open.

I run my gaze from Greyson's sock claud feet to his black Platinum Boxing sweater. My eyes meet his and I give him a weird smile and hold up the plate of cookies.

"Hi." I say awkwardly, trying not to stare at his hair that's perfectly falling over his forehead and resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

That would be fucking creepy, Kennedy.

He scowls at me and then scowls down that cookies. This man is a moody man.

"I'm not being an asshole." He glares.

I narrow my eyes and glare right back at him. "The way you said that begs to differ."

He continues to glare for a moment before it melts into a blank expression and I give him a single nod.

"Good boy. Now do you want some cookies and milk and talk about why you're in a bad mood?" I reach out to pat his head to satisfy the urge to run my fingers through it, but he grabs my wrist before I can and pulls me forward, tipping the plate in my hand. "Hey! You almost spilt my cookies!"

He rights the plate with the hand not holding my wrist and takes a cookie.

"Maybe I'm in a bad mood because you set the fire alarm off while you were cooking them to perfection." One side of his mouth tips up as he takes a bite and I wince a little.

"I didn't know you heard that..."

"You set them all off."

I hum in response, too distracted by the way his thumb keeps brushing over the inside of my wrist to get out a coherent sentence. I become hyper away of how close were standing and my breath catches a little as he leans towards me, eyes on my mouth.