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I knew the offer carried significant weight for two barely legal adults, but I meant every word. If Colt needed my support, both emotionally and financially, while he pursued his dreams, I wouldn’t hesitate. I was all in. Whatever it took.
“That’s a lot to ask of you Gray.”
“I’m not asking, I’m offering,” I countered.
“Then yes. I’d like to try.”
14. “All of Me”
Colton
The final weeks of school had breezed by in a whirlwind. Classes and exams were mere blips on my radar, but Gray, on the other hand, was in full-blown panic mode about maintaining his barely hanging on GPA to keep his scholarship.
Prom was a low-key affair. We opted for the most budget-friendly tuxedos we could dig up, and Brenda kindly crafted our boutonnieres from her own garden, and snapped pictures of us together as proudly as she would if we were her blood grandchildren. Neither of us had any inclination to hit the dancefloor, but I understood that the snapshots we captured together and with his friends would become cherished memories for him.
We made our exit early, enduring cat calls about the importance of using protection so we didn’t become teen dads. Totally original, but it was strangely endearing, their casual acceptance of our relationship speaking volumes and meaning more than they probably understood.
Even if their assumptions were way off base. Well, not entirely off, just the wrong base. That night, we indulged in each other’s company, savoring the intimacy as we explored, locked in a tender embrace and staring into each other’s eyes like the lovesick romantics we were.
Not that we’d uttered the words yet, those three little ones that could change everything. But the sentiment lingered in the air, palpable in the way he cradled me, treating me like I was the most precious thing to him. I, in turn, sought to express my reciprocal emotions through the intensity with which I kissed him, stealing away his breath in a silent proclamation of our unspoken connection.
Now, with only a week left of the school year, I hurried across the school grounds, a sense of purpose propelling my steps. The final bell had just rung, signaling the end of the school day. Gray and I had established a consistent routine over the past month since officially becoming a couple. Even though our desire to maximize our time together before graduation was strong, we both recognized the importance of not forsaking our individual goals for each other.
So, we devised a system. Gray dedicated the time he’d previously spent on training to immerse himself in the library for studying, to ensure he passed all his finals with flying colors. Simultaneously, I seized those couple of hours to delve into my music, now that Katy had returned from maternity leave at Sweet Cheeks and my number of shifts had reduced. While technically we didn’t need to be on school grounds, we found that the distractions at home tended to sidetrack us.
Gray had been steadfast in adhering to our agreement to take things slowly. He never pressured me to go beyond my comfort zone, a quality that only fueled my desire for him more. Truthfully, most of my nerves surrounding physical intimacy had dissipated rather quickly. Long make-out sessions on the sofa had naturally progressed to more heated moments, including grinding and frotting. However, whenever I attempted to push the boundaries further, like moving to get on my knees for him, I found myself chickening out.
The desire was there, intensely so. At times, I felt like I might just throw myself at him. It’s just that I didn’t want to be the one to take the first step. The dilemma arose because Gray had made it clear that I needed to initiate any further steps, and I had no idea how to communicate to him that I was ready but needed him to be the one to make that move.
Lost in thought, a hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my reverie. I spun around, expecting to see Gray. Instead, Remy grinned down at me. Confusion etched across my face. While I had spent enough time around him, considering how often he hung out at our house, I couldn’t recall him ever approaching me without Gray being present.
“Spitfire! Just the guy I’ve been looking for!” Remy exclaimed, and oh, had I forgotten to mention the unfortunate nickname the team had bestowed upon me? I loathed it.
“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?” I absolutely did not spit the words back at him.
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked, completely sidestepping my protest.
“Uh, I guess?” I replied uncertainly. I had managed to be civil, even friendly (by my standards at least), with these guys at parties or when they visited Gray at our house. However, I wasn’t exactly sure how to navigate a one-on-one situation. I wasn’t great at them under the best of circumstances, and that was without the added pressure of potentially offending the person Gray was closest to. It might sound silly, but I didn’t want to give the guy any ammunition to convince Gray that he was wasting his time with me.
“Dude, don’t sound so freaked out. I just wanted to chat with you about Gray’s birthday. I didn’t know if you had made plans already, and I didn’t want to step on your toes if you had.”
“Birthday?” I asked, genuinely clueless.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? That he has a birthday? I kind of gathered that would be the case at some point. But if you’re asking if I know when it is, then no. I don’t.” I felt a twinge of insignificance. In a healthy relationship, shouldn’t I know one of the most basic facts about my boyfriend?
“Huh, I was sure that he would have. Damn, I owe King twenty bucks,” Remy muttered, almost as if he were talking to himself.
“You’re surprised he didn’t tell me?” I couldn’t help but ask. I wasn’t sure if Remy’s surprise at the fact made me feel worse or better.
“Yes and no,” he sighed. “No, because Gray is always super cagey about his birthday. Hates it and refuses to let any of us acknowledge it. Any time we’ve tried to throw him a party in the past, he straight up walks out when he realizes it’s for him.”
“That seems…” I struggled to find the words. It seemed out of character for my boyfriend, the guy who rescued kittens from trees and probably shat rainbows.
“Extreme?” Remy chimed in helpfully. “Oh, we know. It’s because he’s older than all the rest of us and is embarrassed about it. Which, again, is ridiculous because we all already know and couldn’t care less.”
“Older?” I repeated, feeling like a broken record, but Remy was taking forever to get to the damn point. “He’s eighteen like the rest of us,” I stated.
