Grayson's Body

Coherent

Chapter 17: Coherent

Coherent

[koh-heer-uh nt, -her-]

adjective

1. logically connected

2. having a natural or due agreement of parts;

2. harmonious (sticking together)

I sat next to Grayson, my heart still thudding in my chest, my muscles tight in case I needed to get up quickly. He just looked at me like I was mental, leaning away from me as I did so. I felt this tiredness fall over me again like the crashing of waves in the ocean. I felt it behind my eyelids and I closed my eyes for a moment, and Grayson gave me a small smile, a flash of his white teeth before I did so.

I was trying to calm my heart beat.

But there was the fear that bit at me as I opened my eyes and looked at him. I felt this weird mix of wanting to throw my cookies and to ball my eyes out like a little bitch and then curl into the covers and pass out, to forget everything for the night. I kind of also wanted him to say something to me that made me feel better. I also wanted to punch him so hard in the face that his nose bled.

I was conflicted.

But I just let myself relax as I sat there and looked at him, I let myself focus.

I mean, I really looked at him.

His hair was still slightly damp, the golden highlights in the thick strands glowing in the low light of my side table lamp. He didn't look tired at all. If anything, it was like he was more than alive, more than awake. There was a subtle glow to his tan skin and I turned my head away. The phrase "healthier than a horse" came to my mind then.

"I trust you, okay, Ethan?" he said and looked as though he was going to open his mouth to say something but he closed it again. He suddenly looked kind of pensive, a strange degree of sadness and frustration crossing his face.

What do you do when you trust someone completely, when that is like second nature?

What do you do when that same person may be completely deranged?

I felt a sinking sensation at the pit of my stomach. My mind went back to what I had seen when I was making out with Chip, how I'd seen Grayson over Colin, how I'd seen him attacking him.

He'd been drinking his blood, had been tearing into his throat.

Nothing felt truly real at that moment, nothing completely rooted in a solid standing.

I was thinking about Cole as well, and the bruised he had left on my stomach, and the way that Grayson had looked when he walked back to his jeep that rainy Monday.

I was thinking about that when Grayson suddenly moved his legs up partway to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees as he rested his back against the wood of my bed's head board. He looked docile then, like he was in deep thought. His eyes were looking at me, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing me.

"So, you remember the night of the fire?" He asked me suddenly, our eyes meeting. I sniffed and pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose. I let my hand still on the bed sheet, fingers flat against the fabric. The ceiling fan went around and around above our heads and I glanced up at it, feeling the light breeze wash over me, against the back of my neck.

I looked down at my lap, at my slightly shaking hands, and moved as well, swinging my legs onto the bed and crossing them, sitting up. I sat myself across from him, face-to-face.