I roll my eyes and step away from him to get my gym bag. “Do you have a brother I could date instead?”He doesn’t. “Maybe he’s less… like you.”
“You’d be bored out of your mind without me, Grey Davis.”
Chapter 9
“lovin’ you now, a little more tomorrow”—Intentions by Justin Bieber
June 2027
“Please tell meyou didn’t just put the eggs intooil.”
When Grey and all of his friends told me he didn’t know how to cook, I thought they meant he was bad at it, not that he legitimately didn’t knowhowto cook.
“Is that not how you boil an egg?”
“IN WATER!” I fish the eggs out of the oil with a spoon and throw them right into the trash. Sure, I could put them into a fresh pot of water, but God knows what happened inside of these eggs while they werefryingin oil with its shell on.
“I told you we should eat the leftover Kimchi.”
“I love you, baby, but I think I’ve had enough Kimchi in the past two days to last me a lifetime.” All thanks to Miles and Emory being on vacation with the kids. I could’ve cooked—because I actually know how to fucking do that. Maybe not Miles-level-cooking, but I know at least the bare minimum—or we could’ve ordered in, but Grey insisted we do neither.
“Fine, we can go out for breakfast.” He turns off the stove and walks over to the living room. So before we accidentally burn down the entire building, I push the pot over onto a stove plate that wasn’t used to let the oil cool. At least he turned off the stove, I guess.
“Maybe you should take a cooking class. Or five. Or a hundred.”
“Why would I?” He grabs one of his black cargo pants from the drying rack and puts them on.
“Because you shouldn’t forever rely on your best friend. He hasfourkids and a wife to feed, and sometime in the future, when we, too, have kids, that’ll betenpeople he’d cook for at least three times a day.”
“Fair point. But, if I have to take stupid classes, so do you.”
I smile, as always. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than take cooking classes with my boyfriend.”
“What about taking cooking classes with your fiancé?”
My eyebrows rise without me even noticing at first. “Fiancé?” I snort. “What happened to ‘Before you get your hopes up, I willnotpropose to you this June because I know you’re expecting it.If, and onlyifI ever propose, I’ll do it when you least expect it’?”
Trust me, I’ve been secretly murdering him piece by piece in his sleep ever since he said this two weeks ago.
“Well did you expect it right now?” His face stays unreadable, as always. Well, not always. Sometimes his eyes show more emotion than any facial expression ever could. But right now even his eyes are… blank.
“That wasn’t a proposal.” I cross my arms over my chest, now pissed that Grey thinks playing with me like this is funny.
Grey reaches a hand into his sweater pocket. “Then why do I have a ring in here?” He pulls it out and just holds it up.
Before I let him laugh at me because I, once again, believed an obvious lie, I force myself to stay calm. Grey wears rings on the daily, so this one in his hand might as well just be one of the ones he already owned.
“Because you’ve decided April fools is now on June 30th.” The corners of his mouth tug up ever so slightly. “Oh, no. You’re smiling. So youarefucking with me.”
“Not currently, but we could.” He steps closer, but I instantly take a step back for no reason other than to maintain the space between us. I love Grey, I really fucking do, but joking about this is…
This is not him.
Grey wouldn’t joke aboutthat, he barely even jokes in the first place. Sure, he smiles more than whenever we met five years ago. Or is it six?
If we counted the years we’ve known each otherin, it’d be six, but theyearitself says five. It doesn’t even matter because whether it’s been five or six years that I’ve known the love of my life; it doesn’t change the fact that Grey only ever smiles around people he trusts and loves, and even that doesn’t happen often.
“If this is truly your way of proposing to me, Grey Davis, you’re doing a really bad job.”
