248 Days

November 13th

"Alex," Grayson chuckled. "I haven't done anything."

     I had scrutinized his every move through every bite of Claire's famous pancakes. My narrowed eyes didn't ease now. His words meant nothing to me. I couldn't be fooled by the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

     "The silent yet behind your words is incredibly alarming."

     Throwing his head back, Grayson laughed in exasperation. "You're being ridiculous," he said. "I know you better than you think; there's no surprise party or extravagant celebration."

     My eyes remained narrowed suspiciously.

     "You're impossible," he laughed again, standing from his chair. "I'm going to get ready."

     "Ready for what?"

     "Alexa!" He exclaimed hopelessly, shaking his head amusedly. "I'm just getting dressed. Is that alright with you?"

     I hummed uncertainly, sipping my orange juice.

     Pausing behind my chair on his way out, he leaned in close to my ear.

     "Please, try to relax." He kissed my check. "And happy birthday."

     Nearly choking on my gulp of juice, the sticky liquid ran down my chin. Cheeks flaring red, I watched him walk away with a stupid look on my face. Hand unconsciously placed against the tingling skin of my cheek; it took many moments to recover from my stupor. I slapped my hand away. There would be no tingling around Grayson Ryder. He was charming, I would give him that much. But I was not falling for his charm. If my skin tingled from his touch, it was because he had messed around with products, he shouldn't have, and I was suffering from an unfortunate chemical reaction.

     Surviving the entire school day with nothing more than brief birthday wishes, I mistakenly let myself believe that Grayson would remain true to his words.

     Guiding me to the couch that night, Grayson forced a party hat on my head. String snapping under my chin, I grumbled dejectedly.

     "Wait here," he requested, guiding his parents towards the second sofa.

     I groaned again.

     "I'm just getting gifts," he said.

     Lips parting to complain, already having told him that I didn't want anything, his voice overpowered mine.

     "Actually, could you give me a hand, dad?"

     "Grayson," I complained, louder this time, mind buzzing with ridiculous possibilities of a gift that required a two-person job.

     "It's too late to take anything back," he said stubbornly. "So, sit back, relax, and appreciate our appreciation of your existence."

     Defeatedly shrinking into the couch cushions, I watched dreadfully as he bounced up the stairs, Calvin on his heels.

     "I don't know if you're still into photography," Claire startled me. I was so caught up in my dreadful imaginings of Grayson's return, that I had nearly forgotten she was there. "But your mother was certainly passionate about it."

     A small box placed in my lap; I met her gaze with a warm smile.

     "Thank you," I said, knowing the woman was as stubborn as Grayson. She wouldn't appreciate "you didn't have to".

     Unraveling an old leather photo album, tears pooled behind my eyelids as I flipped through the full pages. Filled with pictures and writing that I assumed belonged to my mother, my chest was heavy.