248 Days

February 13th

I should have expected the repercussions of eavesdropping. It always came back to bite me in the ass.

     Sofas pushed together, pillows and blankets were thrown all over the living room. We were working on what Grayson believed was going to be the best blanket fort in the state. While he reminisced, joyfully telling me about the times we made blanket forts in our childhood, I tried to compose myself. I couldn't get his late-night conversation with Claire out of my mind. I forced nonchalance, hoping that I was a better actor than he. Thinking of his acting reputation, I didn't believe it would be too difficult.

     Turning to face him, I forced my brows to furrow in thought, interrupting his latest story. Just as soon as it had appeared, I forced my frown to fade, instead taking on a look of delighted surprise.

     "I think I might actually remember that," I lied, careful not to give him too much hope.

     Blue eyes jerking my way, a pillow fell from his grasp. He looked shell-shocked. "What?"

     Having to explain myself, I panicked. Drawing inspiration from the pictures in my mother's photo album that I had studied intently, I attempted to create a convincing story.

     "I, very faintly, remember making forts like these in my living room in Idaho. We'd push the leather couch and lazy boy together," I started, basically rewording what Grayson had already told me. He didn't seem to notice, eyes glimmering optimistically. Very slowly his startled expression transformed into a wide grin. "We used to gather as many pillows and blankets as we could... I think I recall including a blue Wiggle's blanket."

     I chose my words carefully, hoping that he couldn't read me well enough to suspect my frantically beating heart, a great fear of being caught in my lie. I had seen the blue blanket in many pictures. It was risky to assume we would use the blankie, but I figured if I could pull it off, then Grayson would be properly convinced.

     "Yes!" he said enthusiastically. My grin mirrored his when I concluded that he believed me. "It was Maddy's. She used to carry it everywhere, but we would steal it for the fort. It made the perfect door."

     "And it used to make my mother furious!" I added, probably much too eagerly. Grayson's smile flickered. For a horrible moment, I thought he might have seen through my act, but he was too excited to doubt me. He wanted to believe me.

     "And do you remember that time we spent an entire week in the fort we made in my kitchen? We refused to leave it for any reason other than going to the bathroom."

     I should have said no. I had already convinced him; I had already given him hope... But I became greedy. I couldn't refuse the opportunity of further brightening his smile. The word Yes slipped through my eager lips without a second thought.

     Grayson's shoulders slumped, wide grin shrinking into a knowing, almost sad, smirk. I had been caught.

     "I thought I saw you snooping around the kitchen."

     "I was not snooping!" I defended; act immediately forgotten.

     "Eavesdropping, then? Again."

     "N— Well... Maybe a little— But it's your fault for talking about me!"

     Grayson chuckled softly, shyly retrieving the pillow he had dropped.

     "I didn't hear much," I mumbled quickly, highly embarrassed, yet still, trying to reassure him.

     Grayson nodded in relief, but his fingers played nervously with the pillow's tassels. "So, no memories?" he asked quietly.