Authors: Valia Lind
I promised myself I wouldn't cry. The stricken look in Grayson's eyes is enough to bring me to my knees, but I will not feel sorry for him. I will not feel sorry for myself either.
We stand like that for what seems like forever, until Grayson moves toward me one more time.
"I know I've said I was sorry, but I know sorry will never right the wrongs between us. You're right, I knew exactly what I was doing when I did all those things to you. But I never meant to hurt you."
"But you did."
"Yes, and I will always regret the way I acted. Even as, in my puny thirteen year old mind, I was acting out of good intentions. But you’re never going to let this go, are you?" He sounds so dejected. I want to say that’s not true, but what if it is. What if this memory is the only wall I have left, protecting me from falling head first into all that is Grayson.
“I guess I will never really know the answers to the questions in my mind.”
His words baffle me, seeming to come from the secret parts of his person, almost as if I’m not even meant to hear them. He walks over to where he left his wallet and keys. I stand frozen as he moves past me toward the door. I have no idea how to ask the questions that are rising up in me. I don't know what else to say. I feel him stop behind me, the heaviness of his gaze like a physical weight on my shoulders.
"Brooklynn, I want you to know that I," he stops for a second and I turn to watch him struggle to find the right words, "I'm not the same. Sometimes I feel like you know that. Things change, Brooklynn. I care about you, and one day, I hope I can prove it to you." Then without giving me a chance to reply, he walks out the front door. I lean against the table, letting the emotions over take me. He's right, of course, I do believe him, but the part of me that's petrified of getting hurt keeps pushing him away.
I run my hand over my cheek where I can still feel Grayson's touch. He knows I'm a mess, the baggage of my insecurities so blatantly on display I don't know how anyone can miss it. But to protect myself from what could be, I'm letting Grayson walk out of that door without setting anything right.
If I keep pushing him away, how long before he doesn’t come back?
TWENTY - NINE
Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes.
- Jack Handey
I can't keep my mind on work today.
The conversation from this morning keeps running through my mind like a broken record. Dakota called earlier and I filled her in, hoping she'd tell me I didn't mess everything up. Of course she didn't.
"Brooklynn, you have got to stop that. Obviously, he's crazy about you."
"No, Dakota, he cares about me. He cares about this project. I just need it to be alright between us because I cannot imagine doing any of this without him."
"Honey, I love you, but you're being stupid."
"Ugh, I know." We hung up and I contemplated walking over to the back of the store and smacking my head against the wall. I went through the whole day lost in my own thought. Even my aunt commented on my lack of enthusiasm.
Now, I'm standing behind the counter, rechecking the books for the week, when the store bell rings. I look up to find Grayson striding toward me with purpose. My heart speeds up at seeing his gorgeous face and I try for casual when I greet him.
"No time for hello's. I have an idea." I notice the excitement in his eyes, the adrenaline pumping through him and for a second I worry he's going to start bouncing off the walls.
"Umm, okay?"
"We should do a fashion show."
"Come again?" I must have heard him wrong.
"I'm serious. The designs that you've created, the clothing you’ve had stashed in the back of your closet, all the themes we've put together, we should make a show out of it. We can invite a bunch of people, show off your awesome design skills and my photography and get some points on our resume. Putting on something like that would show colleges we have organization, ambition, and determination. We can do this!" He sounds like he memorized that last part, but I'm not about to call him out on it. I'm too surprised.
"We can't do a fashion show." It’s the only thing I can say after Grayson runs out of breath. He's watching me like a kid watches candy he knows he can’t have.
"We just need to find a place and a sponsor. You know, someone who's willing to sign some forms." His voice gets louder with every word. "Someone who would enjoy the exposure we may bring to a place, like a store maybe? We can—"
"Hand over the forms, boy," Aunt Evie interrupts, coming out of the side of the store. "I'll sign them."
"See, we have a sponsor!" He’s literally bouncing up and down.
"Sneaky," I state, rolling my eyes. "But I'm still not sure about this."
"Brooklynn," Grayson begins, his eyes piercing through me. "You know it's a great idea. I know how you feel about sharing your work with the world, but I think you're ready. Together, we can do this."
The look in his eyes, the determination and excitement, are hard not to respond to. But what gets me more is the fact that he's doing this for me as much as himself. Even after this morning, he still wants to push me to be my best.
"Grayson, about this morning—"
"No, we don't need to talk about it right now. I realized once I left, and calmed down a bit, that I wasn't being fair to either one of us. I had expectations for you the same way you had them for me. No, let me finish," he says when I open my mouth to speak. "While my expectations may be different from yours, they're still not fair. I decided that I wanted to be your friend and I would try and start over.” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before continuing on.
"Hi," he says putting out his hand for a shake, "I'm Grayson and I think you're an amazing artist that deserves to have her work seen. Nice to meet you." He waits for me to take his hand, encouraging me with a small nod.
"Hi, I'm Brooklynn," I state. "I think you're a wonderful person that deserves to be given a second chance. Nice to meet you too." I giggle. My aunt grumbles something about insufferable teenagers as she walks past us and we burst out laughing.
"I don't think she likes me very much," Grayson comments when Aunt Evie disappears in the back. The small routine of introductions have seemed to lift a weight off both of our shoulders.
"Don't take it personally. She doesn't like most people."
"Isn't that a problem for someone running a store?" He follows me as I make my way to one of the displays, carrying a box of accessories he picks up from the counter.
"You'd think. But she's fine when people come in. It's everyone else who is not a paying customer." We fall into our routine, with Grayson handing me items while I arrange them on display as we talk. This has become like second nature to us in the last few weeks.
"Have you talked to Mr. Blooms about organizing the picnic for the families yet?"
Besides helping out at the shelter, Grayson volunteers as an activity director under Mr. Blooms at the community center. They roped me into helping with some ideas for family activities, so Grayson and I threw out a picnic as an idea. That can be a hit or miss in Arizona. They’d have to really make it stand out.
"No, it was your idea. You should be the one to talk to him." Grayson hands me a hanger, as I pull out yet another shirt from the box."He listens to you."
"Whatever. You guys have this whole bromance thing going. Any more time spent together and you'll be finishing each other sentences."
"Oh you mean like Chance and you?"
"Shut up." I crack up at his look. He's been making comments about Chance and I since he got back. Grayson knows Chance is crazy about Dakota and yet, he never stops making digs about our relationship. "You're just jealous."
"You're right." When he says it, he sounds like he means it. I sneak a glance at him through one of the shelves and find him staring off into the distance. I don't think he even realizes he said it out loud. Do I mention it? Do I let it go? What am I doing? I’m freaking out again, that’s what. Dakota is going to hurt me if I don't pull myself together. Yet, I don't know what to say, so I don't comment, pretending I didn't hear him at all.
A few customers come in and I leave Grayson to go greet them and make sure they don't need any help. A couple of ladies are beyond excited about finding a few vintage vests and chatter happily. It's another twenty minutes before I make my way back to Grayson.
"They are a lively bunch," he says, looking up from the book he's reading. "That's going to be you and Dakota in like seventy years."
"Ha. I'm sure Dakota would agree." I move some papers off the table, shifting the clothes so I can fold them for display when I realize what Grayson is reading.
"Hey!" I shout grabbing for my art journal. He dodges me with expertise, laughing as he goes. "Give that back."
"Sorry, this is just so interesting. 'A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle,' and 'If you wonder where your child left his roller skates, try walking around the house in the dark.' Have you heard this one? 'I dream of a better tomorrow, where chickens can cross the road and not be questioned about their motives'."
"You like quotes?"
"Collect them actually. Especially ones that go with my pictures. I don't draw them out or paint pages, but I do have a file on my computer where I save all the funny or interesting quotes I come across." He says it matter of fact, as if it's a normal part of life, and all I can do is gape at him. Just another item I can add to my ever growing list of positive attributes when it comes to Grayson. Great. It means nothing, I tell myself, so what if he seems perfect on paper. Life is not perfect and if I let myself feel anything for him, it will not turn out well.
That's it. How many times am I going to lie to myself? I'm officially losing my mind. I'm way beyond not feeling anything. The frustration I feel for myself, for the whole situation, threatens to come out and I know I have to distance myself before I do something stupid. Again.
Grayson is watching me, as if waiting for me to make some kind of a decision. I ask for the journal and he places it in my hands. I turn without a word, sticking the book back under the counter, before focusing on Grayson. But he's already moving.
"I'll see you later, Brooklynn," he says with a wave, walking out of the shop. Groaning aloud, I dump my face into my hands. I'm messing everything up. I can't be just friends with Grayson because I'm already way deeper in like with him than I've ever been with a boy. But my neurotic behavior is probably going to send him packing at any moment and where will I be then?
No, I promised myself this morning that I will be the best kind of a friend to Grayson. I cannot mess this partnership up and I'll just have to try harder. I'm no longer just thinking of myself here. Grayson needs this project as much as I do.
Later that evening when I get home, I'm surprised to find him parked in front of my house.
"What are you doing here?" I ask getting out, suddenly self-conscious for no apparent reason.
"Staying here."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not leaving you in the house alone." There is no room for argument in the statement and I’m actually glad to see him, so I lead us inside. We settle into a routine, preparing for bed as we make small talk. I offer him one of the bedrooms but we both know we'll be sleeping on the couch again. I make us a snack while Grayson picks a movie, my body flushed at the prospect of spending another night with him nearby. Chance and I often have movie nights such as this, but it feels different. Everything around Grayson feels different. But I can't let him out of the friend zone. I can't.
Regardless of what my heart is telling me.
THIRTY
I don't actually know how to pronounce half the words in my vocabulary because I only read and type them. - Author Unknown
Grayson is driving me crazy.
He spent the whole weekend with me and we talked about everything under the sun, except the growing tension between us. When I told Dakota all of this, she said, after she was finished squealing, that he obviously has it bad for me. However, I'm not so sure anymore.
The whole time he was at the house, he acted completely different from what I've grown used to. Sure, he's still playful and attentive, but it's like there is something else there. The mixed signals are giving my stupid emotions a run for their money. I'm going to have to ask Chance about it, since Dakota is no help.
My parents called at least twice a day to check up on me, but didn't ask who was staying with me. They also weren't too happy with me when they arrived home to find that I didn't fill out the forms Dad left for me on the table. I swear, he made a beeline for those puppies the moment he was through the front door.
"Brooklynn, you know how important this is!"
"Hi Dad, hope you had a nice weekend," was my reply and it did not sit well with my parents. Mom gave him a look, before giving me a small hug.
"You okay, honey?" she asked, running her hands over my face and hair, like she used to do when I was little.