I look up at him and smile when he smooth’s my furrowed brow with a gentle rub of his thumb. The muted light from the lamp makes him look gorgeous. I sigh. Looking at him never gets old.
"Do you think Brody and Demi will be ok?"
He sighs. "I think they've made a mess of things, and Demi should've just ended things with Tommy rather than cheat on him. But now that it's out, Brody and Demi can deal with it together." Something tells me he disapproves, not of their relationship, but because Demi was unfaithful to Tommy. His voice is laced with understanding, but from what side? The cheater? Or the cheated?
"He loves her," I say, more so to myself than to Grayson.
"I know. He's loved her for most of his life. When we were six, Brody started picking on Demi on the playground and the one day she threw a mud pie in his face because he said her dress is ugly. From that day, Brody has loved that girl more than life itself. It was like that right through high school. Demi dated a few guys but we all knew she was waiting on Brody to make a move but when he didn't, she stopped waiting. It killed Brody when she started seeing Tommy and when he found out he'd taken her virginity at seventeen, he went off the deep end for a while."
"Why did he never make a move if he knew she was waiting for him?"
"He didn't think he was good enough. He grew up a little differently to how we did, and he assumed that she wouldn't be interested because his family didn't come from money like ours did."
I frown at the logic, even though people are rejected because they're poor all the time. "That's silly."
He chuckles. "I know, baby, but he didn't know any better at the time. Maybe now that he can take care of himself, he'll feel differently and realize what a dumbass he was."
The thought that Grayson wouldn't want to be with me if he thought I was poor bothers me. My father came from old money and when he died, he put it in a trust fund for when I got older. My mother had permission to use the money to live off of, but she insisted we get by without it. In the end, my stupid trust fund is what got her killed. Her last boyfriend, the one behind bars for her murder, found out about it and when she wouldn't give him a cent of it to support his alcohol habit, he killed her in a blind rage.
This is yet another secret I choose to keep hidden.
"Huntley?”
I snap out of the memories that sometimes hold me captive and realize I'm clutching Graysons t-shirt in my fists. I look into his warm green eyes and smile weakly. "I'm fine." The lie falls from my lips with ease. Grayson's expression tells me he doesn’t quite believe me but he doesn't push it. Instead, he takes his shirt off, knowing I like the feel of his skin on mine, and slides further into bed. He covers us with the comforter and I snuggle into his chest, blanketed by his strong, muscular body.
Sleep eludes me, my thoughts troubled and plagued by the things that I'm keeping from Grayson, things from my past that I should've shared before we started dating. I clutch him tighter. Once I tell him, he'll leave me.
I need to enjoy this moment, holding him to me.
Because tomorrow this could possibly no longer be mine.
He could possibly no longer be mine.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
I wake up to Grayson's sleeping form. The sun shines through the curtains and casts a dim light on his face. I wouldn't mind waking up to this every day. He looks peaceful and almost God-like. I resist the urge to run my fingers across his slightly parted lips and slip out of bed as quietly as possible. When I'm dressed, I walk into the kitchen, finding Brody already making coffee.
"Good morning," I say. I grab a coffee mug and stand next to him.
Brody is also quite the looker. He has bronzed skin and a completely ripped body. His hair is a dirty blonde color that hangs on his forehead. It's a good thing that seeing him shirtless doesn't make my belly flop the way it does when I see Grayson shirtless. Or when I see Grayson, period.
"Hey you," he replies, his voice thick and husky with sleep. But judging from his eyes it's from a lack thereof. "How'd you sleep?"
"Not so great." I take a sip of coffee and let it warm me from my belly to my toes. Coffee and chocolate are two things I will never be able to give up. Ever.
"Me neither, " he sighs.
"How is she?"
He looks at me with sadness and regret in his eyes. "Ok I guess. She had nightmares last night, woke up every thirty minutes screaming 'Please stop!'. God, I feel so helpless. And guilty. I know what we did is wrong, but I couldn't stop it, even if I wanted to. God Himself could not stop me from being with her."
"You guys will figure it out," I say. I wrap my arm around his waist and hug him. He needs comforting as much as Demi does and my heart breaks for both of them.
"I hope so," he says, sipping on his coffee. "Where are you off to?"
I shrug. "I'm going to see Aunt Emma about something. I'll be back in a little while.”