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Chapter 8
The word ‘almost’ can hold such power behind it and yet, be so meaningless. ‘I almost ran a marathon,’ ‘I almost won the lottery,’ ‘I almost decided to go skydiving,’ etcetera. The current ‘almost’ on my mind was from last night. Grant almost kissed me. And I almost let him. In fact, I almost wanted him to—scratch that. I definitely wanted him to.
Last night I thought I got three hours of sleep in total, between my restless legs and my mind racing. I spent my day trying to focus on work and not what almost happened last night. Exhausted from chasing my students around today, I climbed onto my couch and cuddled up with my fuzzy blanket, Criminal Minds playing on my flatscreen. The sound of thunder and heavy rain relaxed me and I found myself drifting to sleep with thoughts of an irritable but kind-hearted man.
When I woke up from my nap, I checked the time on my phone, five-fifty-three p.m. I noticed multiple notifications, but my eyes went straight to the text from Grant.
Cranky Contractor: I’m bringing you dinner. I’ll be there at 6.
Crap. I shot up off the couch and took a look in my mirror. My hair was in a bun that looked like a bird’s nest, and I had mascara smeared where it was squished against a pillow just minutes ago. I was wearing gray sweatpants and a “Go Eagles” T-shirt from when I was in high school.
I reached for my phone as fast as I could.
Me: That’s all right. I’m not really dressed for company.
Not even thirty seconds later, he replied.
Cranky Contractor: Too late.
Oh, Lord. My apartment was a disaster. I wasn’t prepared for him to see the place clean, much less an absolute pigsty. I was pretty sure I had some underwear just lying around. And there is a disturbing number of dishes in my sink. I threw every bit of laundry in the living room I could find into a hamper and shoved it in the closest bedroom.
I heard two knocks at my door, and my heart raced. I attempted to fix my stray hairs but let’s face it, nothing was going to fix this except a shower.
I opened the door to see Grant standing there, still in his work clothes. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, and little wet dots had turned his light gray shirt dark.
“Hey, I, uh, didn’t get your text till like ten minutes ago. I told you I wasn’t exactly ready for company.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just me.” He said that as if we’d known each other for years, as if ‘just him’ was somebody I didn’t feel the need to impress every time he walked in the room.
“Well, come in, but you can’t make any comments about how chaotic it is. Considering you didn’t exactly give me a heads up or a choice.” He placed two to-go containers from Fuji on my kitchen island.
“Yeah, well, if I asked, you would’ve said no. Plus, it’s storming out and your oven is broken. I figured you needed something and didn’t want to drive in the rain.” My heart swelled, thinking of him walking into a local restaurant and grabbing food just for me. Plus, I was starving and not precisely in the mood to make the trek to my car to get anything.
“Well, you were right. Thanks for thinking of me.” I opened the container to find my favorite, sesame chicken and fried vegetables. I sighed in comfort. He must have recalled that from our conversation last night.
I grabbed two plates and some silverware and placed them on the island by the barstools. Taking a seat next to him, I was utterly mortified at the thought of him seeing me in these clothes.
“Do you mind if I change real quick? I just wasn’t expecting you, and if I’m being honest, I’m a little embarrassed.”
“Why? You look fine.” Okay, clearly, he doesn’t understand.
“I’m not used to wearing this kind of stuff around people other than Ashley. I’d feel more relaxed if I changed.” I started to stand up, and he placed a hand on my forearm. “Just eat. You’re fine. I promise.” My arm lit up where his hand was.
“O-okay.” I slipped back on my stool, and we ate in silence other than the casual ‘how was your day?’ small talk.
I expected us to have awkward moments in the quiet room, but it was surprisingly comfortable. He halted the silence when he finished his food, stretching his hands up above his head and yawning. I tried to avoid staring at how his white shirt rode up above his dark navy boxers.
I reached for the two fortune cookies at the bottom of the plastic bag, placing one in front of him and opening mine. I cracked the cookie in half and slid out the slip of paper. “You find beauty in ordinary things. Do not lose this ability.” I made a slight ‘huh’ noise and gnawed on the stale, tasteless cookie.
Grant looked at me, his head resting on his hand as if he were too exhausted to hold it up himself. I pointed to the cookie in front of him and told him to open it. He rolled his eyes but hesitantly began fumbling with the packaging.
“To love and be loved is like feeling the sun from both sides.” He read the message with a monotonous voice, sounding like my boy students when they clearly don’t want to read aloud to the class.
“Aww, isn’t that sweet!” He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes as if to say, is it? I giggled at his reaction.
“Do you want me to go ahead and take a look at that oven?”
I grabbed both of our to-go containers to throw them in the garbage. “You don’t mind? You seem tired from work.”
