Carter.

13.

"Boys." Grayson greets as we walk into the kitchen. Brock is digging in the pantry, and the other two are sitting on the barstools at the island with wide grins etched onto their faces.

"Grayson, how nice of you to join us." The one sitting on the seat closest to the back door leading to Grayson's backyard says. He's got curly dark hair with a cheeky grin on his face. His naturally darker skin making his full lips stand out. I'm guessing he's hispanic and clearly doesn't skip arm day, with his biceps bulging as he crosses his arms. Apparently Grayson and his friends never skip a day of football practice. This is the same one that's in Grayson's and I class, the one to hype him up to talk to me... what was his name? Did it start with a C?

Grayson grunts a laugh in response to him. "Carter, this headass is Sam." He tells me motioning the curly haired boy. He gently places his hand on my lower back, sliding it around and leaving it on my hip.

"Nice to officially meet you!" Sam chirps while taking a gulp of his soda. These boys must really be comfortable to let themselves in his house and welcome themselves to his food and drinks. I wish I had friends like that...

"The one digging through my pantry is Brock. And that's Turner."

"What's up?" Turner offers while running his hand through his light blonde hair. He just as good-looking as the rest of them. It must be a requirement to be in this friend group. He has tattoos covering his arms and peaking out of his shirt on his neck just a little, it gives him a dangerous look. How does one get tattoos at 16 or 17? Isn't not legal until your 18?

"Nice to meet y'all." I offer an awkward wave and immediately regret it. Stupid Carter. I mentally face-palm.

Brock turns out of the pantry with a scowl on his face and a bag of Doritos in his hands. "Bro what gives? Why do you have barely any food?"

"My mom didn't have time to go shopping before she had to leave again." He shrugs, clearly not offended by his words.

"What's up Gray's girl?" Brock asks after rolling his eyes at Grayson's answer.

"Nothing much." I say while leaning into a Grayson slightly, craving the comfort. Grayson doesn't seem to mind the nickname or use of being called "his girl." And I can't say I do either. I'd like to think of myself as his girl too.

"Pizza?" Turner says suddenly startling me slightly. Grayson squeezes my hip slightly in a comforting way.

"Only if y'all are paying since you broke into my house." Grayson counters raising an eyebrow at them.

"We didn't brake in." Sam rolls his eyes at him. "But it's on me, my mom gave me $40 since she felt bad we couldn't watch the game in our movie room." Did he say movie room? Is everyone rich around here?

"Sweet! Get extra breadsticks then." Turner chimes in. He seems much kinder than his look gives off.

"Dips on first round of Call of duty!" Brock yells while making a run for it toward the stairs.

"Me too!" Turner yells after him.

"You fuckers! I called dips on first in the group chat!" Sam yells while trying to order the pizza on his phone and running after them.

Once they are out of slight, Grayson's other hand finds my other hip and pulls me flush against him.

"Not too bad right?" He leans down towards me slightly.