And he does, his strong arms wrapping around me as he lifts me off the ice completely. The kiss deepens and I open myself to him, lost in the sensation of his warm lips and strong hands.
“Isobel and Josh haven’t had their first kiss yet!” Liz’s voice booms once again, this time like she’s being amplified.
Which she is. We break the kiss, and I look over to see Liz shouting into a megaphone and wonder just how long she was trying to get our attention.
Grayson sets me gently back down on the ice. “We should probably head in.”
I place a halting hand on his chest. “Thank you for everything today. You were a brilliant teacher.”
He runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were patient and kind, even when I didn’t quite deserve it. Plus, you were breathtaking to watch when you were skating. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” I fist my hands in the flannel of his shirt, tugging him closer. “Not going to lie, watching you out there, seeing how talented you are, it was super sexy.” I lean in, nuzzling into the warm skin of his neck.
He abruptly pulls himself out of my embrace, and for a second, I think he’s going to skate off and leave me to fend for myself. But he hesitates for only a second before he starts to slowly guide me back to the edge of the pond. “Yeah, well, like I said, everyone does it back home.”
“Seriously Grayson, you could have been an Olympian or something.” I gesture back toward the empty ice. “I find it hard to believe everyone in Minnesota can do that.”
“Well, they can. I don’t have any kind of unique talent, okay? It’s just skating.” His words are sharp and as biting as the cold air around us. “It’s nothing special. Not that big of a deal.” He helps me make the transition from the frozen pond to the waiting bench, practically dumping me on the wooden surface before stalking away in the direction of the trailer.
“It was pretty special to me,” I say to his back, although I don’t know if he hears me.
I stare at his retreating figure, wondering what the hell just happened. How did we go from a full-on make-out session to me getting unceremoniously tossed onto a bench? I thought I was complimenting him and yet there he is storming off like we’re back to our old ways.
Whatever. I bend over to unlace my skates and, for maybe the first time ever, wish Grayson was still here.
Chapter Fourteen
While I wait for Grayson to come to my room that evening, I run the events of the day on a loop through my brain. I keep landing on how infinitely kind he was. How much fun we actually had together. How Grayson was patient, and gentle, and a good teacher; how he never once let me fall.
How that kiss reached down and punched me in the gut.
And how annoyed and angry he looked as he stalked away from me.
With Grayson, it’s always been easy—ever since we started hooking up anyway. No strings and no fuss. There are no feelings involved, and it’s made the whole thing complication-free. Until today.
Enough time passes without a knock on my door that I realize he isn’t going to come by tonight. And that’s okay, I guess. I mean, sure, we’ve been meeting at least once a day for our sex sessions, but it’s not like we have a set schedule or anything. And it’s just one night. I’m pretty sure I can live without Grayson West’s dick for one night. But I can’tshake the feeling that something might actually be wrong. Grayson’s absence, coupled with the way he stormed out earlier, could mean he’s really going through something.
I don’t want to care about his feelings and yet I find myself marching across the hall and banging on the door.
“It’s open.”
I can barely make out the words, but I push through his door anyway, ready to throw him some attitude and throw off my clothes, preferably at the same time.
Except when I enter the room, closing and locking the door behind me, I find Grayson sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging as low as it could possibly reach. Suddenly sex is the last thing I’m thinking about, which likely hasn’t happened since the first time he kissed me. Even in our few fully clothed conversations, the wanting has always been there.
“Hey.” I cross the room in a few strides, landing right in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Grayson’s voice is barely a whisper. He doesn’t lift his head even a fraction of an inch, but he does pull his hands back so he doesn’t have to touch me.
“Well, that was super convincing.” I’m not at all offended by his clear and present desire to make zero contact with me whatsoever.
He looks up at me, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing. “I wasn’t aware I owed you any sort of convincing.”
I raise both eyebrows, not about to let his pissy behavior go unchecked. “You don’t. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Because I didn’t come begging for you right away?” His words are a quick stab in the gut, laced with real hurt and not at all like the playful jabs we normally throw.
It doesn’t take a therapist to deduce that I’m not the one who’s really hurting in this situation. I push myself farther into his space, forcing him to sit up straight and drop his hands so I can wedge myself between his thighs. “Why don’t you spare us both this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit song and dance and just tell me what’s wrong.”
