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That I wasn’t falling.
That I wasn’t thinking these twelve months were only the beginning instead of the end.
But I was.
I didn’t care that he was grumpy, growly, that he was impatient. Because underneath those sounds and layers was a guy who was completely and utterly wonderful. Who had the kindest, most giving heart.
Who owned my body and every physical sensation in ways that I’d never experienced.
But in thinking that, in dreaming, in mentally preparing for the future, all I was doing was setting myself up to become the one who would get wrecked.
It was that haunting realization that made me get up from the couch, stopping at the end table, where I said softly, “I know that wasn’t easy.” His hand was resting on the cushioned armrest, and I placed my fingers on top of his. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He said nothing, just stared at me.
Neither of us blinked.
Or moved.
The moment was building, I could feel it in every part of me.
The angst.
Emotion.
There was so much I wanted to say.
So much I wanted to do.
And just as I breathed, “Grayson,” he pulled his hand away and lifted the beer and began chugging it.
The moment was over.
I shoved every feeling down my throat and asked, “Are you done eating?”
When he nodded, I took my plate and his, along with our empty beers, into the kitchen. I dumped our half-eaten slices and napkins into the trash. The dishes went into the dishwasher, and the three pizza boxes in the fridge.
As I returned to the living room, Grayson was turning off the TV. Once the room was silenced, he stood.
“I’m going to bed,” he told me.
“We have to take the picture.”
“What picture?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, something I’d done more than once tonight. I didn’t know why, I just suddenly felt so naked. “The one we’re posting in the morning. You know, that tells everyone we’re together.”
“Right.”
“My phone’s in the bedroom. I’ll go grab it—”
“We have to do this now?”
I could hear the annoyance in his voice.
“Don’t be a dick, Grayson. It’s just a picture. It’ll take less than a minute and then I’ll leave and you can go to bed.”
He turned and walked toward his bedroom, roaring over his shoulder, “Hurry. Fuck.”
