No Promises

chapter ten

THE LAST THING I see before shutting my eyes is Greyson's smile, and his lips are the first thing I see when I wake up the next morning. His head at the very edge of his pillow, and mine on the edge of mine. He's so close that I can feel his steady breath, and it's then that I feel his hand on my waist. His finger grazing over my bare skin and I have to hold my breath.

He's so close and yet so far away.

It feels like he's miles away from me, but he was never that close to begin with.

I don't know when, but sometime in the middle of the night we had rolled together. The distance we put between us now mere inches. It feels like I might be falling off the edge to a place I won't be able to pick myself up out of. I used to dream about this closeness with him. I was a high school girl with a crush I couldn't control.

I had no say in it.

It's just always been there, and every time I try to ignore it. It's like it pulls me in deeper to this state of uncertainty where I question everything. I don't know how to keep myself from thinking there is some kind of hope that it'll happen. Greyson is nothing more than a friend.

He's my friend.

We are friends.

Taking a slow breath, I turn onto my back. A shiver encasing me as Greyson's hand moves with me, resting on my torso, just over my belly button. I want to get out of here before I have to face him. I need to calm down first, but the closer I get to the edge of the bed, the harder it is to do without making a sound.

I curl the sheets on the side of the bed into my fist as I slide my leg over the edge, resting my bare foot on the carpeted floor, and the grasp of Greyson's hand shocks me. I move too quickly and sink to the floor with a thud, a gasp falling from my lips before I can stop it, bringing my hand up to conceal it.

My effort to keep quiet, and not wake Greyson, failing miserably as I turn my head and see his eyes open at the abrupt sound of my fall. The butterflies in my stomach fluttering at the sight of his blue eyes this early in the morning. A girl could get drunk on those eyes.

"Morning," he mutters, his voice hoarse and warm.

"Hi."

"The floor cozy?"

I hum my answer as I bob my head, resting my hands on the floor to push myself back up. He moves his arm back to let me sit down on the edge of the bed, and I reach up to adjust the loose fitting top on my body. "How'd you sleep?"

"Not too bad," he says as he pushes himself up, resting his weight on his forearms. "What about you? Did you sleep well?"

I nod, not allowing myself to get any words out.

"What's your guys' plan for the day?"

"Isla and me booked an appointment at a tattoo parlor for this morning," I tell him, bringing my leg up as I turn toward him.

"You're getting tattoos?"

"That's the plan."

"And does Stevie know about this?"

"No." I shake my head. "It's a surprise."

He chuckles lightly. "What are you thinking about getting?"

"I can show you," I say and begin to reach across him for my phone on the nightstand on his side of the bed before stopping myself. "Sorry." I swallow, ducking my head down when my cheeks warm up. "Could you pass me my phone?"

"Yeah." He reaches for it, handing it over before lying on his side.

I quickly unlock my phone and bring up the sketch I did when Isla first suggested matching tattoos for the three of us now that Stevie is of age. It was a simple decision to make and after a few conversations we decided on butterflies.