I'll Always See You

Chapter 7 - I Plead the Fifth

I slammed my door shut and leaned back against it, unexpectedly rattled. Why the hell was I so rattled? My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I racked my brain and tried to think of the last time that I'd ever seen Grayson without a shirt on. Not since we'd been a lot younger. I'd never paid too much attention to his body really, but when on earth had his shoulders gotten so broad? Was I so blind that I missed something like that happening? It couldn't have been that recent. Just from my few-second ogle session I had the image of the lean muscles corded throughout his upper arms and the lines of definition on his chest, ingrained into my head. Grayson, the boy who had always been so beautifully oblivious to me while growing up that I guess I went oblivious at some point as well.

I mentally told my own brain that I needed to shut up and stop thinking so hard, as I was already overheating without doing that too. I also desperately needed to get a boyfriend if that was the reaction I had to freaking Grayson, of all people, the last person I'd want to see me have said reaction. That didn't stop me from pressing an ear against the door, nervously making sure all was quiet in the hallway. I didn't hear anything at all, which probably meant he'd slammed the door shut too and was trying to get over the horror of seeing a walking raccoon in its natural state. When I was sure nobody was out there, I cinched my bathrobe tighter and opened my door, taking a semi-confident step into the hallway. I totally wasn't tiptoeing at all. As much as I would have liked to.

My heart suffered another shock as I looked to the right and saw Grayson leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest (now thankfully covered up with a short sleeve t-shirt, albeit a tight one stretched across his chest) and looking vaguely bemused. 

"Really?" I said out loud, mainly to myself, exasperated. "You had to follow me and make that even worse for me?" 

His lips split into a grin, showcasing straight teeth. "Of course I did. Was it really that bad for you to see me without a shirt? I didn't think it was that big a deal," he probed teasingly. 

There went my cheeks again, on fire. "I never said that," I spat, then my eyes widened and I started sputtering. "Well, I mean, yes, no, shit," I scrambled to fix myself, then clapped a hand over my mouth. "And there's a dollar for Matt's swear jar," I added miserably. 

He laughed this time. "I believe your exact word was 'ew'." 

I glared at him, completely not trusting myself to formulate a response. His grin spread wider at my speechlessness and I wanted to wipe it off his face. He knew it, too, judging by the amused expression carved into his features. 

"You're not even going to apologize for ruining my innocence?" he asked sweetly.

"I most certainly did no such thing," I protested. "And have you never heard of locks on doors?" 

"You probably just would have come through the window if I'd locked the door," he interjected ruthlessly.

I started sputtering again, this time swearing about how we were on the second floor and of course I wouldn't have come through the window. Finally, having thoroughly embarrassed myself, I just turned to look at the other wall and stuck my hands in my bathrobe pockets. "I'm going downstairs now to make breakfast. Do you want any?" I asked in a monotone.

"How much self control did it take right there for you not to call me a name?" he asked. 

"Immense. An immense amount. Are you proud of me?" I replied, still staring at the wall. No way was I turning to look at the laughter that I knew would be painted all over his face at my attempts to save my own dignity.

That rustic chuckle escaped him again and it did something strange to my head. Huh. I'd have to figure that mysterious little thing out later. "Sure, I'll take some breakfast if you don't mind. Thanks for offering," he said, and I garnered the courage to glance over at him. He was serious. Damn. Why had I offered that again? 

"You're welcome. I'll holler when they're ready," I said, uncrossing my arms and moving to walk down the stairs. He pushed off the wall in one fluid motion and turned away, heading towards the guest bedroom, just like that, gone.

I about tripped down the stairs in my haste to get to the kitchen. I walked in, wishing I had socks on so I could slide around on the floor. 

"Dad?" I called. "You home? Want eggs?" I waited a minute for a reply, got nothing, and repeated myself. Then I remembered what Matt had said. If he had already been up and made food, that must have meant he was scheduled for this morning and wasn't home. 

Awesome. It was just Grayson and I. Hopefully he'd take his eggs to go and I could disappear into nothingness. That'd be nice. Is it rude to put just one person's food on a paper plate to get someone out the door? I asked myself.

I don't consider myself a good cook but I am an adequate one. I don't know how, as I definitely didn't learn a thing from Dad or Matt. I cracked a few eggs onto the skillet that I pulled out, grabbing the seasonings and a spatula and scrambling them. It only took a few minutes and I begrudgingly reached past the paper plates for two normal ones. 

"Food's ready," I hollered, hoping he could hear me from upstairs. "If you can't hear me I'll just eat your stuff. That's fine too. Either way totally works for me," I added loudly. I didn't even hear him walking around upstairs before he was coming down the steps, which was way different than Matt who walked like he had lead in his shoes or was trying to win a stomping contest against a baby elephant. 

"Did you eat all my stuff in the twenty-three seconds it took me to get down here?" He slid a hand through his hair that I was just noticing was slightly damp, and I had to struggle not to keep watching the silky strands go all over the place.  

Yanking my gaze back down, I stared at his plate. "I'm debating on if I can hide it still and say yes," I said candidly. 

He reached over and slid his plate across the counter. "Thank you," he said, and I almost detected sincerity in his voice. 

I cleared my throat. "You're welcome."

He pulled up a barstool and sat down, while I stood at the opposite side of the counter, leaned up against it. I tossed him a fork and we ate in silence for a few minutes. In my head I couldn't stop thinking again on whether he was here because he was avoiding his parents. I guess that probably wasn't unusual for him, I just hadn't ever really thought about how much that happened for him. A pang of something tugged at my gut. It wasn't pity, I didn't feel sorry for him. He would have hated that anyway. But in some way, maybe empathy. Or sympathy. Or whatever the hell the difference was or wasn't.

 I finished first, having piled considerably less onto my plate, and turned my back to rinse the dish. When I turned back around he was standing maybe a foot away, waiting behind me to get to the sink to rinse his. I reared back in surprise, hit my ass against the counter hard enough to hurt pretty good, and stood for a split second in shock as I realized his hand had reached out to my waist to steady me and he looked worried. Probably about my mental health or if I'd gotten enough sleep, which apparently, I had not. I snatched the plate from his hand and he slowly pulled his other back from my waist, leaving a burning hot trail where his touch had been that I fought hard to ignore.

"HOW do you move so quietly?" I demanded, saving myself by flipping back around and running the tap again. 

"Eh. I always won against you and Matt in hide and seek, that's for sure," he said, yanking a laugh from me and making me feel better. 

"That's true," I admitted. "I'll give you that."

"Thanks again for breakfast. I'm out of here," he said, walking over and grabbing his bag, hefting it over his shoulder. 

I set his rinsed plate in the sink and gave a pathetic wave. "Okay. See you Monday," I said. 

"And maybe next time I'll expect it when you bust down a door with me on the other side," he said, giving me a quick wink and disappearing with a laugh. 

I didn't even have time nor the ammo for a comeback, though I'd like to think it would have been scalding if I'd had ten more seconds. I huffed out a frustrated breath, frustrated mainly at myself. A few seconds later I heard the front door click and knowing he'd have locked it behind him, I just stared at the plates in the sink before walking back upstairs to the bathroom and showering. 

What. The. Hell.