“We lay on the couch for a while, him softly running his fingers through my hair and me relaxing into him. As I begin to dose off, I feel Grayson shift and carry me to my room. He lies down next to me. He puts his arm around my middle and pulls me into him. I stiffen at his heartfelt gesture, feeling a little too comfortable in his arms. Weâ€™re just friends. Friends cuddle, right?
â€œUgh, what are you doing to me Grayson?â€ I ask rhetorically.
â€œThe same thing youâ€™re doing to me,â€ he says, but I refuse to look at him, afraid I may see more than what a few simple words could mean.
I wake up the next morning alone in my bed. Whereâ€™s Grayson? Maybe he left for work already. Itâ€™s still early, but heâ€™d have to go home and change. I look around my room and see his phone in the nightstand, so he must still be here. I walk into the kitchen looking for him and find him at the table with two coffee mugs. â€œDÃ©jÃ vu,â€ I say quietly.
He smiles at me, â€œYour coffeeâ€™s ready. I figured youâ€™d have to go to work and would want a cup before getting ready. Howâ€™d you sleep?â€
â€œThanks. Yes, coffee is always a must, especially this early. I slept surprisingly well. You?â€ I respond, taking my lower lip between my teeth.
â€œIâ€™m glad to hear that. I guess sleepovers arenâ€™t that bad. I slept great.â€ He beams at me and his eyes sparkle with delight. â€œYou donâ€™t have to be nervous, stop chewing your lip or Iâ€™ll remove it myself with my own teeth.â€ He winks at me, sending a rush through my body.
Heâ€™s happy this morning, and deep down I know itâ€™s because I slept in his arms without argument but try to push that thought away. The lines are starting to haze. Maybe Steph is right. Grayson and I arenâ€™t friends. Is it inevitable that eventually weâ€™d end up together, or end up hurting each other?
â€œI gotta go. Weâ€™ll talk, okay?â€ He says as he stands up putting his coffee mug in the sink and leans in to give me a peck on the lips.
â€œYeah,â€ I murmur, feeling surprisingly sad about his departure. Itâ€™s ridiculous. He has to go to work and I do, too, but I always feel so comfortable around him. Itâ€™s like he doesnâ€™t care who I was or where I came from, he just likes me for being me, free of judgment. He knows that I sleep with people, have my mommy issues, yet still accepts me no questions asked. And the scary part is that he fits in my life so perfectly, so completely, a piece of him in me that was missing.
Before he leaves, he turns to me saying, â€œIt might surprise you, but I donâ€™t tend to do sleepovers either. Itâ€™s different with you, though.â€ His eyes darken a little with specks of green, and they look uneasy with his admittance. Maybe weâ€™re more alike than I thought.”