“Let’s just say that watching the girl you’ve loved from the time you were five years old love someone else is hard as hell. But I can’t even pretend to be good enough for her, so all I want is for her to be happy.”
With that he leaves my room, leaving me speechless. Brody is not the kind of guy to express his feelings and open up but it must be hurting him if he felt the need to get all that off his chest. I know he cares about Demi but to what extent I wasn’t sure. If you saw them together you would assume they can’t stand each other by the way they fight.
It’s not like us to get caught up with feelings and girls but we’ve blown that rule right out of the water now.
Yeah, Brody and I are in shit.
** ** ** ** ** **
An hour later we pull up to Huntley’s apartment building. We stopped by Demi’s parents’ house to load her bed and chest of drawers onto Brody’s pick-up truck. Lucky for us Demi and Huntley got her clothes yesterday, saving us from the nightmare of seeing just how many clothes Demi has.
Women. I will never understand them and their need to shop all the time. The thought has me wondering what Huntley’s closet looks like. She always manages to look sexy and cute simultaneously, and those damn sundresses she likes wearing drive me crazy. I won’t even get started on the cowboy boots, no need to carry a king size bed up a few flights of stairs sporting a hard on.
“Hi boys!” Demi comes bounding up to Brody’s truck with a spring in her step. She looks like a pixie on a sugar high the way she bounces with excitement.
“Grayson, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” she says. I don’t miss the way she looks from Brody to me and the back again. The slight gleam in her eyes when her gaze rests on Brody also goes unmissed.
“I needed the extra help Dem, so I asked Gray to come,” Brody explains.
She smiles at him and nods before turning on her heals towards the lobby doors.
Brody and I pull the mattress from the truck first and head towards the building. Thank the Pope there’s an elevator just big enough for one of us and the mattress. I race up the stairs and make it just as the elevator doors open. We make quick work of getting the mattress to Huntley’s apartment, pushing and heaving until it’s in what will now be Demi’s room.
I look around but don’t see Huntley or Demi, noticing that her bedroom door is closed. Now that I’m here, in her apartment, I want to see her. I have to see her. It will confirm that she’s ok and that the last week hasn’t been as unforgiving on her as it has been on me.
Her door clicks open and Demi walks out looking sheepish. Huntley follows but the look on her face is indecipherable. Brody follows Demi out, leaving Huntley and I alone in the hallway in a very awkward silence.
“Hey,” she says, looking up at me. Her blue iris’ are striking today, more so than usual. The dark circles under her eyes concern me.
“Hey,” I reply, “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She looks away from me and I know she’s lying. But I have no right to confront her about why she’s lying to me. “What about you?”
“Good,” I mimic her answer. Our exchange feels so unnatural that it pisses me off. Everything we need to say to each other hangs heavy in the air and continues to be unsaid.
“I better get back downstairs, Brody will need my help bringing the rest of Demi’s things up.”
She nods and walks past me into the kitchen, effectively ending the most uncomfortable ninety seconds of my life.
Two hours later, Demi is settled into her room and Brody and I are thoroughly exhausted. We flop onto the couches, taking a much needed break after all that heavy lifting.
“So Demi, why isn’t Tommy helping you?” I look at Demi, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“We had a fight and I told him I’d find someone else to help me move,” she states matter-of-factly. “Turns out I didn’t have to do much since Huntley already asked Brody.” She looks at Brody and smiles, causing a shift in the rooms’ atmosphere.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I’m silently grateful for the rescue from a potentially awkward situation. I leave Brody and Demi in the living room and step outside into the hallway. My mother’s name flashes on my screen.
“Hi Mom,” I say, trying to sound better than I feel.
“Hi honey, how are you?” My mother’s voice comes through the phone softly and is unusually strained.
“I’m fine Mom, what’s wrong?”
She sighs. “Grayson, I have something I need to tell you honey and I’m not sure how to tell you.”
I don’t like where this is going. The first thing that enters my mind is that something has happened to my father or my brother Jeff.
“Is it Dad? Is he ok? Or did something happen to Jeff?”
“No honey, they’re both fine. I just spoke to Jeff and he’ll be home for your birthday and Thanksgiving.”