“If I find the time.” I should be free for the summer, unless the team makes it to the Stanley Cup, but even then I’d still be free for most of the summer. “You could come to Manhattan, too, you know?”
He nods softly, mumbling something unintelligible, but if I had to guess, it was something about not being able to because of his soccer teams. It’s the most logical thing to me anyway.
Without even thinking about it, I press my lips to the top of his head and gently trace my fingers up and down his bare back.
“If you’re in love with me, Grey Davis…” He yawns, and never continues his sentence.
“I know, I know. I can just say it,” I finish for him.
“Good.”
“Good night, Luan,” I chuckle.
“Good night, Grey Davis.”
Chapter 6
“if you ever wanna be my one / I’ll be waiting”—I’ll Be Waiting by Cian Ducrot
February 2024
For our last coupleof hours together, I suggested Grey and I go out to the beach, find a nice spot to hang around. We did find a nice spot… by a tiki bar. Again.
I love living by the El Matador Beach, truly. It’s not all too crowded like the more popular beaches in Malibu, and therefore the beach parties are far better because the people are better. With an average sixty-five degrees in February it’s not warm enough to go swimming, but warm enough to walk around or sit at a bar. So that’s what we’re doing.
I think Grey hates it, but I like being amongst people.
“No, just one plain water and a plain apple juice, that’ll be it. No alcohol,” I hear Grey finish off our order for the second time. Apparently the bartender doesn’t quite understand that there are people out here hanging around bars without touching the alcoholic drinks.
“You can get a drink,” I say. There’s a chance that if I hadn’t told him about my recovery from an alcohol addiction, he would order anything but water, and that thought makes me feel bad.
I never wanted people to stop drinking around me just because I can no longer do that. It’s why I like hanging around bars. It’s hard sometimes, of course, even after two years, but how could I ever trust anyone if I can’t even trust myself around my biggest weakness? Besides, I like watching people have fun and get more careless with every other drink. The bullshit that comes out of drunk people’s mouths is the best part of it all. I never knew being the only sober friend is that hilarious. Scary, because sometimes you think your friends are about to die from all the shit they’re doing with an alcohol induced brain, but funny.
That also always makes me wonder if Doro ever thought I was going to die when she cleaned up after me. Every. Single. Day.
“I don’t want one,” Grey answers flatly. “I’m about to hop on a plane and I’d rather be stone-cold sober for that. Also, I plan on using the gym at the apartment complex later tonight when I get back home and working out with alcohol in my blood really isn’t that beneficial.”
Yeah, okay, that I can agree on. I used to work out mostly drunk and it did nothing good for my stomach. Then again, I was drunk about eighty percent of the day, every day, so maybe that was also a great reason why my stomach couldn’t deal with alcoholandworking out. But at least I stayed in shape, or got into shape, rather.
But the thought of Grey leaving again doesn’t do good things for my stomach right about now either.
I reach for his hand, needing to feel him close before I won’t get to do that for the next god knows how many months. FaceTime and texts just aren’t the same as having him here with me, being able to touch him, feel him, even smell him. All those things will be gone in a few hours for months, and I honestly dread having to say goodbye.
Grey doesn’t pull his hand away, in fact, he is the one to interlace our fingers. I want to smile at thatsobadly but keep it lowkey. Mostly. Not enough to hide it, apparently.
“Just say it.” Grey blows out a breath, ready to roll his eyes at the one sentence I throw at him all the time.
“Nah, I’m good.” I look away from him, pretending to be upset because he just took away all the fun from my favorite sentence.
“Allow me then.” He clears his throat. I swing my head around, staring at him with wide eyes. “If you’re in lo—”
I bring my free hand to his face, squeezing his cheeks together to stop him from finishing that sentence. I can feel his muscles stiffen, and if I wasn’t so keen on not wanting to hear him say it aloud, I would much rather let loose and watch him embrace that perfect smile of his.
“Don’t say that. It’smysentence.” I loosen my hand just so he can talk back, but I swear if he attempts to finish his sentence, I will silence him another way.
“Scared you might actually say it if I give you the chance to?” He smirks, and holy fuck does that do things to me.
I shake my head. “I don’t fall in love with people I don’t date. Especially not the ones I haven’t even kissed yet. So you can ask away, but you won’t get an answer.”
