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“Oh, I’ve been living on my own since the start of junior year,” he remarked offhandedly, as if that were a totally normal occurrence for a high school senior. “Mom bailed when I was ten, and Dad took a plunge into the remarriage game last year. Not that he spelled it out, but I got the vibe I was putting a damper on their honeymoon vibes. So, I pitched the idea of me moving out in exchange for some help with the rent. It’s guilt money, really, to keep the illusion they’re starting their family from scratch. But hey, I’m not complaining—I scored a killer deal out of it, and the peace and quiet is awesome.”
Overshare much? What was I supposed to do with that information? Maybe he thought if he word-vomited his life story that we would magically forge a best bud relationship. Not going to happen. I just grunted in acknowledgment, but he continued, undeterred to roll on with his one-sided conversation.
“Not much of a talker, huh? No worries. My grandma used to claim I could talk underwater, and I’m a bit of a chronic oversharer. So, no pressure from me. I won’t judge if you want to talk or if you want to keep it all under wraps. We can just ride in silence if that’s your vibe.”
“Works for me,” I conceded, giving him points for at least being self-aware of his verbal-diarrhea.
But, of course, a mere two minutes later his resolve cracked, and he couldn’t fight the urge to break the silence any longer. I rolled my eyes. This was shaping up to be a long fucking night. Was it terrible that I started to consider hypothermia as the more appealing option?
“Feeling hungry? I’m about to starve, myself. Usually, I toss a pizza into the microwave after my shift, even though Coach is always nagging about my junk food habits. There might be a spare one in the freezer if you’re up for it. It’s pepperoni, though, so I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
“I’m a vegan,” I deadpanned.
“Oh, shit. Hmm, let me think. I’ve got some bread at home—can you eat that? I make a killer PB&J. Tomorrow, I’ll grab some green stuff on the way back. Does that work? Or maybe an omelet?” His words spilled out progressively faster, as if he feared I’d jump out of the moving vehicle unless he presented the perfect dining option.
There was so much wrong with that sentence that I just stared at him, blinking, for a moment before my brain synced with my mouth. Then, I unleashed on him.
“Are you for real?” I sneered. “First off, I was fucking with you. I don’t have the luxury of being choosy about my meals, considering I’ve had to scrape by on next to nothing my entire life. But even I know that eggs aren’t vegan. How clueless can you be? And what the hell do you mean you’ll pick up some food for tomorrow? This is a one-night deal, buddy”.
After my tirade, I shifted my gaze to him and instantly felt a pang of guilt. His jaw ticked, and he gripped the steering wheel like it owed him money. With anyone else, I’d assume he was pissed. On him though, his whole demeanor resembled that of a kicked puppy.
Shit. In the past hour, this guy had shown me more kindness than either my sperm donor or the guy who fucked my mom, aka my stepfather, ever had. And how did I repay him? By being my usual jackass self. Guess he’s not the only one of us with verbal diarrhea. Moments like these emphasized why no one ever stuck around for me.
I was a miserable prick, more inclined to talk shit than utter a simple “thank you.”
But I had a damn good reason for that. Every act of kindness ever directed my way came with strings attached, conditions that demanded repayment. So, forgive me if I had no clue how to act around the first person treating me like an actual human.
But when the human version of a Great Dane sitting next to me seemed on the verge of tears, my guilt took the reins.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Today’s clearly not my finest hour, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you. Though, in my defense, this is precisely why I warned you I didn’t want to talk. There’s a reason I don’t have any friends. I’m mostly an asshole,” I admitted, feeling a bit foolish.
“It’s fine,” he said, unconvincingly, his response far from sounding fine with my outburst. “You’re right, I knew what I was signing up for when I told you to get in my truck. You can be a prickly bastard even on good days, so I’m bracing myself for some of your sharper jabs. It’s cool, though. You can be pretty cute even when you’re all scowly.”
I scoffed, loudly and with a healthy dose of indignation. Cute? Far from it. I knew he probably just wanted to get a reaction out of me, and, well, he succeeded. So I vowed to bite down on my tongue, even if it meant biting it off.
Grayson chuckled softly, unruffled by my outburst. “To answer your least offensive question, yes, you’ll be crashing at my place until further notice.”
“Like hell I will be!” I shouted, seething at the presumptuous ass.
He shot me a menacing look, a clear signal that this topic wasn’t up for negotiation. It did nothing to intimidate me or change my mind, though it did manage to cause an inconvenient boner. Ugh, I prayed the darkness inside the truck would shield me from his notice and let me maintain at least a semblance of dignity.
“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit what you think about it.”
Of course he didn’t. I rolled my eyes, though the gesture was lost on him, his attention fixed firmly on the slick road ahead.
“I don’t want to downplay your situation because you probably have a valid reason for being out there, but you can’t convince me you couldn’t have found somewhere safer,” Gray continued, seamlessly carrying on. “As tonight clearly shows, regardless of the circumstances, you don’t seem to take your personal safety all that seriously.”
Fucking excuse me? Who did he think he was, passing judgment without a hint of curiosity about what led me to that damn alley? Did he think I chose frostbite to seem edgier? Privileged, pompous twat.
“I can’t have that. I won’t pretend I don’t know what the right thing to do here is. So you will be staying with me. If I let you leave tomorrow, we’re just going to end up with a replay of tonight, only it'll be way more inconvenient because I know I’ll spend ages driving all over town trying to track you down.”
Did this guy ever stop fucking talking? I massaged my temples, feeling the mother of all headaches brewing.
“I get it, you don’t like accepting help, but if you walk out of my place tomorrow, you’ve got nowhere else to go. So, whether you like it or not, you stubborn ass, you’re crashing in my spare room, sweaty underwear and all, until we find a solution that doesn’t involve frostbite. If it takes days or weeks, so be it. You’re stuck with me.”
“You do realize I’m an adult, and what you’re suggesting is basically kidnapping, right?” I snapped.
“Eh, if that’s how you want to look at it, go ahead.”
