We'd spent all this damn time trying to find Grahm's dad, and we finally find out he's dead. 7 years of him never knowing, and it turns out he's been dead for 5. We head into the science lab for tutoring again, but I can tell his mind is off of Biology.
“Grahm...” I mutter, unsure of what to say.
“Don't. Please. Just...” Grahm trails off.
He moves closer to me. I'm backed against the wall, yet I don't feel uncomfortable. His crystal eyes pierce me, watching my every move. I meet his gaze.
“Grahm, I... I don't know what to do about your dad.” I say softly.
His face clenches up, and I see a tear begin to fall. “Stop. I know you can't do anything.”
“It's going to be fine, okay?” I whisper.
His eyebrows furrow. “Marielle, I said to stop.”
And all at once, the distance is almost completely closed. Grahm grabs my face in his hands. He looks at my eyes, and I look at his.
“Look, I need you, not my dad. Actually, I don't need anybody. But I want you.” He says quietly.
I feel heat rise into my cheeks, and I know I'm blushing like mad. Grahm smiles at me. I look down, hating to look vulnerable. He pulls my face back up.
Then it happens. The instant I see his face move towards mine, I move mine to him. And the worst mishap of all time occurs. We bump heads.
“Ow!” I say.
Grahm laughs. “Well that went from intimate to awkward in 0 to .05 seconds. Like a rollercoaster, eh?”
“Indeed.” I say, letting a small laugh escape. “That would be a cool rollercoaster, though.”
Grahm smiles a toothy grin where I can see the crooked canine. “Yeah, and like there'd be even more ways to ruin a kiss, like water guns, or automaton parents.”
“It'd be called The Tunnel of No-Love.” I add.
We end up talking about the rollercoaster the rest of the time. I know I've fallen in love with him, completely accidentally, but I've fallen in love.
We're about to leave, when I remember I've left my books. I turn, and slam straight into Grahm.
He looks at me, just a bit taller, and then he truly kisses me. Straight on the lips, soft and sweet. Cinnamon, mint, woodsmoke.
“I love you.” He whispers, taking the words out of my mouth.
“I love you too, Grahm Wilson. I love you too.”
