Tender Conversations | ✓

10 // Grant

"Nice place," I comment, scanning the house.

"Thanks," Venice says airily, like her thoughts are somewhere else, "shoes off, please."

I kick off my Chucks, revealing my bright green socks. I notice how Venice smiles at it, and I can immediately tell she's thinking about the time I told her what my favorite color is.

"Do you have all your stuff, Ven?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Whatever," I awkwardly stand to the side, looking like a goth with neon green socks -- only because I couldn't find my black ones, "your room?"

"Woah, buddy. Getting ahead of yourself."

"Pervert."

"But seriously, I study in the dining room."

"Gotcha... now, where's the dining room?"

"You're hopeless."

"Not as much as you," I pause, "at Calc."

"Let it go."

"Let it goooo! Let it goooo! Can't hold it back any--"

"Stop."

So much for being a havoc, I think.

"Do people ever call you Venezuela?"

"... Venezuela?"

"Venice. Venezuela," I pull out a chair, "Catch my drift?"

"I wish I didn't."

"But you admittedly did."

"Calc," she says, changing the subject, "teach me."

"What do you need help on?"

"... Everything."

"Oh, man."

"It's not that bad," Venice defensively says.

"It kinda is."

______________

I hate ultimately decided that every tenth chapter will be in Grant's point of view. Just to mix things up, you know?

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--thyselves