Authors: Valia Lind
"Honestly miss," one of the officers says from behind me, "It doesn't look like they made it inside the house. They might've been spooked before they got in and didn't even know they got the door open. You'll have to go through everything and see if anything was taken." I nod in response, not knowing where to start.
I grab my phone and dial my parents' number while the officers fill out their paperwork. My dad is the one to answer and I briefly explain what happened. He's calm, but I can hear concern in his voice and it makes me feel a bit better.
"We'll be home tomorrow morning," he says, but I wave him off.
"No, Dad. I'm fine now. I'll make sure to lock everything up and have someone come stay with me, okay?" I know he doesn't like it, but he can tell I've made up my mind. I hear him exhale in frustration and Mom's quiet voice in the background.
"Are you sure, Brooklynn?"
"Yes. I know you have a meeting tomorrow. You always do when you're there. I'll be fine." I sound braver than I feel, but I really don't want my parents home. As crazy as it sounds, I was really looking toward them being away for a few days. I'm not going to let some burglar ruin that for me. We talk for a few moments longer, with me reassuring them that I'm fine about fifty times, before I hang up.
The officers stay long enough to make a report and make sure everything is secure.
"Do you have someone who can come stay with you?" I nod again, these guys probably think I'm mute or something. Taking a deep breath, I turn to them.
"Thank you, officers, for your help."
"We’ll wait out front until someone gets here." The older of the officers states as I lead them to the front door.
"Thank you so much." I give them each a smile and they seem to take it as a good sign. I lock the door firmly behind them before reaching for my phone. Leaning against the door, I call the first person that comes to mind.
"Hello?"
TWENTY - SEVEN
I stopped understanding math when the alphabet decided to get involved.
- Author Unknown
"Are you alright?"
Grayson asks as soon as I let him through the door. His eyes roam over me, his hands reaching out to pull me in for a hug. I let him hold me for a second, before I take a step back.
"I'm okay. It doesn't look like they got in, but the officer wanted someone to stay with me tonight. I—" I stop, not really knowing why I called him instead of Dakota or Chance. He watches me, waiting for me to continue, but I just shake my head, moving toward the living room. I don't know what to do with myself. It's late, but going to bed seems impossible. I'm on edge, my heart beating restlessly. Grayson seems to gauge my mood because he walks over to the TV, browsing through the DVDs shelved on the entertainment center beside it.
"You feel like watching Star Wars?" he asks, and I exhale slowly, feeling better with that simple normal question.
"Sounds good. I'm going to go change," I say realizing I'm still dressed as Princess Leia. Grayson is wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and I wonder if I pulled him away from going to bed. Probably. Since he left the party with me, what else would he be doing at almost two o'clock in the morning? Dancing on rooftops?
I head for my bedroom, reaching for my favorite pair of sweatpants coupled with an oversized shirt. I dress quickly, unbraiding my hair in the process and letting it fall down over my shoulders. For a second I wonder if I should keep my make up on but that's just foolish, not to mention uncomfortable. I shouldn't be worried about impressing the boy in my living room, but I am. Shaking my hair out, I head to the bathroom next, washing my face and brushing my teeth, before going downstairs.
I find Grayson on the couch in front of the TV, remote in one hand. I study him from the shadows for a moment, as he flips the channels, the colors playing on his face. He's come so far from the complete nuisance that he was when we were younger. He doesn't seem to want to destroy me anymore. He seems to want to protect me.
"You're going to stand there all night?" Grayson's voice interrupts my thoughts. My hands are suddenly sweaty, so I run them over the material of my sweatpants and walk farther into the room.
"Didn't want to interrupt. You looked so focused on—" I glance at the TV, "Tom and Jerry?"
"Hey, it's a classic. Don't knock my Tom and Jerry."
"Oh, I wouldn't dare. I'm a fan." I stand in front of him for a second, trying to decide where to sit. He's in the middle of the sofa that faces the TV while the other chair is to the side facing away from it. I can handle sitting next to him, can’t I? Almost nodding in affirmation to myself, I grab a blanket from the chair, before lowering myself on the sofa.
"Did you want anything to drink?" I ask after a moment. "Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners."
"I'll get it." He stands before I can stop him. "No, I'm serious. The kitchen is this way?" I nod and he walks off with purpose. I smile a little to myself, burrowing into my blanket. Grayson returns a few minutes later with milk and Oreos.
"I hope you don't mind, I found us a snack."
"I never mind Oreos." Grayson settles beside me, grabbing the side of my blanket and pulling it over his lap. I open my mouth to protest, but really why should I? He hands me the remote and I push play. I let myself relax against the cushions, breathing freely for the first time in over an hour. I didn't even realize just how strung up I was until Grayson settled next to me. I feel safe with him here.
We watch the movie play out in front of us in silence and I try to keep myself from sneaking looks his way. For some reason, I have the biggest desire to see the way he reacts to what's happening on the screen.
"Brooklynn," I jump at the sound of my name, sure he caught me looking.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you. I—"
"You don't have to apologize. I know I act strange sometimes, but leaving tonight had nothing to do with you. I hope you know that."
"Is that why you called?" he asks in a small voice, "To prove that it wasn't me."
The last part is added almost as an afterthought, but I hear the emotion behind it. I realize I hurt him with my attitude a lot more than I first thought. I have to fix this. Suddenly, it’s very important to me that I fix it. I ignore the TV and focus my attention on his face.
"I called you because—" I rake my mind, trying to come up with the right words, the right way to tell him how I feel. He waits patiently, and I finally blurt out the truth. " Because I knew you'd come.” If this thing between us is going to work, I need to start trusting him. “I knew you'd make me feel safe."
He doesn't say anything and I'm afraid to look up. I pick at the invisible thread on the comforter with nervous energy, waiting.
He reaches out and slips his fingers between mine. I glance up then, finding his at me.
"I'm glad you called," he says.
TWENTY - EIGHT
I don't have bad handwriting. I have my own font. - Author Unknown
I open my eyes to find the TV blaring, a talk show host going on about the latest celebrity outfit disaster. Grayson's face is inches from mine. Sometime during the night, after we fell asleep, I ended up sprawled on top of him with his arms holding me close.
I study him for a second, the perfect curve of his lips, the strong chin, the peaceful expression on his face. I wish I could freeze this moment, the simplicity of early morning, the waking up in the arms of a beautiful boy. But I can't. The second I realize where my thoughts are heading, I reel myself back.
I struggle to disentangle myself from Grayson without waking him up, finally making it to the other side of the couch. I sit there for a second, thinking. He stayed with me all night when I didn't even ask. I know it's foolish to keep saying I don't feel anything for him, but it's better than the truth. When we finish our project, he'll get accepted to the photography school of his choice and I'll, hopefully, get out of this place and pursue my own dreams. And where will it leave us? We're too different, our futures too far apart.
I leave him sleeping and head for the kitchen to make coffee. I wonder if he loves coffee as much as I do. I mean, I think he does. He brings me coffee from Starbucks but I'm not quite sure what’s in his cup.
My mind races while the coffee finishes brewing. Maybe he hates it. Maybe he goes there just for me. He does little things to make me feel special, remembers little tidbits of me because he pays attention when I don’t think he’s looking. It terrifies me. It terrifies me because if I let him in, eventually, I will disappoint him and he will walk away.
That is my biggest fear, put into words. If I allow myself to fall for Grayson, he'll break my heart. He'll leave, take a piece of me with him, and I'll never be the same. We have to finish this project. I have to believe he just brings me coffee because we’re friends, because we’re helping each other get out of this town. I cannot romanticize this into a fairy tale ending. So I fill two mugs and head back to the living room with quiet conviction.
Grayson sits up when I walk in. Through half opened eyes he seems to be gauging my reaction to him still being there.
"Good morning," he says finally, as if afraid he'll spook me.
"Good morning!" I go for bright and cheerful, handing him the cup. "I hope you like coffee. I think you do, right? Because that's what you drink from Starbucks, right? You never know, they have those chai's and stuff. But I love coffee, because it's a bit of a necessity in my life."
"A separate food group?" Grayson interrupts and I nod, plopping into the chair across from him. So he does like coffee. Good to know.
It's a bit chilly so I wrap my hands around the mug and let the warmth surround me. I take a sip, shivering as it warms me from the inside out. "Heaven in a cup?" Grayson offers and I can't help but laugh.
"Both of those are accurate descriptions." I watch the liquid swish in my cup. I want to say more, to thank him for staying, but can't seem to get the words out.
"Brooklynn—"
"Actually, what time is it?" I interrupt before he can get anything else out. "I have to work today. I should probably get ready."
"Did you want me to come over after? Did you need any more help cutting patterns?" His question is coupled with hope. Who volunteers to spend their time cutting patterns?
"No, I think we're good. I just have to finish the skirt and the two accessories for the last outfit we worked on and we should be ready to do a run through. Dakota and Chance are still up for helping out so we can probably do that sometime next week?"
"Sound good to me." Grayson stands then, slowly making his way toward me. "If you need anything, you have my number. I can come over later..."
"You don't have to. Thank you for staying last night. I really appreciate it." I jump to my feet.
"What's going on, Brooklynn?"
"Nothing is going on. I just need to get ready for work."
"You have time. The store doesn't open until eleven."
"Umm, I have to go through the inventory before we open."
"You did that yesterday."
My eyes dart to his. "Well, I have to do it again today."
He stops in front of me, his body close enough that I can feel the heat of him around me. Grayson leans forward, one of his hands reaching out to cup my cheek. The contrast of his rough skin against my soft one is a sweet pleasure I didn’t know I was missing.
His breath mingles with my own, the intensity of his gaze making me warm all over. I lick my lips. Grayson's gaze flickers to the small movement for a second before flying back to me. What I see there makes my heart clutch, stealing my breath away.
"I, I really need to go."
"You can't run."
"I'm not running," I fight to keep my voice steady, "I have responsibilities, a job. I have to—"
"Why do you always do this?" Grayson exclaims, dropping his hand. He runs it through his hair, the desperation radiating off him in waves. "Why do you always take two steps back when I feel like we've taken a step forward?"
"I don't know what you mean." I have to stay in control. I can't let Grayson see how he affects me, even though he probably already does.
"You know exactly what I mean!" He turns back to face me. "When I feel like I've finally broken through all those walls you've put up, I hit another one."
"I didn't build those walls without help now did I?" My anger is rising to meet his own. I use the one weapon in my arsenal that I know will be effective, the one that will cause the proper amount of damage. I see the moment my words register and all at once, wish I could take them back.
"I was a kid, I was—"
"You knew exactly what you were doing when you tripped me up the stairs or hid my books or humiliated me in front of the whole school. You knew exactly how embarrassing it would be for me to walk into a room full of people who were laughing at me. Don't tell me you were a kid and you didn't know any better. I was tormented by you, Grayson! I need some...I need some time to get over that!"
The words pour out of me before I can stop them. The memories of that fateful day come rushing back as if it happened only yesterday.