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Grant hums.
I continue, “She’s so desperate to make my father happy with her, she would do anything. She refuses to let him be disappointed.”
That’s one reason I suggested this arrangement, at the start. I wanted my dad off my back, sure. But I also wanted the attention off my sister for a little while too, so she has the chance to mess up, learn about herself, and grow without my father’s strict limitations and heavy expectations on her. It’s not the same reason as Grant’s, but it’s close—and we both have siblings, so we get it, right? On some level, we both just get it.
He finishes his coffee and sets the mug aside but doesn’t try to get up. He doesn’t say anything either, which I take to mean that I’m doing a good job. My hands knead over his shoulders more.
And then I move them down again, this time using my thumbs. I press into him, pushing against him, trying to make him feel better. I can’t fix the issue with Charlie and Don. I can’t even offer him a suggestion that might make him feel better.
But I do know that I can lean into his back more and make him feel some physical relief. I press against his muscles moving my hands down further, bracing both palms against the dip of his lower back—and he groans. It’s this low sound that rumbles in his chest and out into the still air of the hotel room, the kind that catches me so off guard I slip in my actions and go still.
Grant says, “Fuck, that feels amazing.”
I laugh, trying to hide the fact that the sound twisted up something in the pit of my belly and made me so turned on, I don’t know what to do with myself. My cheeks are bright red. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that it would be so terribly easy to take it to another level. To make this something else entirely. And aware of the fact, too that he would let me do it. He let me last time, and I know that he’ll let me again.
Would it be that bad though, to do it again? To feel his hands roam against my body, and then have him—
I take a breath, and I pull my hands away, settling them on his neck instead. My heart is pounding in my chest, so hard that it bumps against my breastbone. It makes me feel like I’m about to choke on my own want, and that scares me. The fact that I’m so taken with Grant, that I want to be with him for real on such a raw, earnest level— I don’t know how to handle it. So I just rest my hands on his neck for a moment.
Trying not to be too obvious, I run my hands over his skin, kneading against the tight muscles there. My palms press to his flesh. Are they too sweaty with nerves? I hope not. I swallow a few times, and then tell him, “I think that a walk might be nice, don’t you?”
Grant makes a confused sound in the back of his throat. “A walk?”
There’s almost a breathless note to it. I pull one hand away from his neck, leaving the other pressed to his skin. I like the feeling of him, under my palm. “A walk. I know that it’s a little late, but maybe we could go get something to drink. I mean, a real drink.”
I give his neck another squeeze, a gentle but firm one, and then let out a heavy exhale. My hand falls away. I give his back a little push instead, urging him up onto his feet.
Grant stands up, just as he’s bid. “Alright, alright, a drink it is. Did you have somewhere in mind?”
“I don’t have anywhere in mind,” I tell him, shifting and getting off the bed, too. I adjust the skirt of the dark blue dress that I’m wearing. “But it’s the middle of London, and I’m certain that we can find a great pub somewhere near here. Just let me grab my jacket, alright?”
“Alright,” says Grant, with a laugh and he throws his shirt back on leaving the tie behind. “Go grab your jacket, and we’ll get a drink.”
On a whim, I lean forward, and I give him a hug. “See? You’re already feeling better. I can tell. Look at the smile on your face.”
“You’ve got me. It’s just something about you. I can’t help but be in a better mood when you’re around,” says Grant. The words warm me as they settle at the back of my chest. They fill me up and put me in a better mood, too.
As I go to fetch my jacket, I can’t help but wonder if he noticed the pink blush on my face, and the way that it creeps down my neck and over my shoulders.
I wonder… If he already knows that I really love him. More than just this fake little game of ours, but deeper, on a level that can’t be ignored.
God.
Maybe I’m really the one that needs the drink to cool my head.
Chapter seventeen
Grant
Weendupina pub just on the other side of the road. It’s a solid little place, with brick walls and a cute little sign on the front that has a horse’s head on it, and a crown above that. The Horse and Kingsman pub is a cute little place, though it’s nothing like where I might normally go when I need a drink. Back home, I tend to hit up the more modern clubs, the ones that have bright lights and black marble tables, and little leather couches in the VIP section.
And alright, fine, I’ll admit that I’m normally perched in the VIP section, where it’s free from the crowds and you only have to be surrounded by the people of our choosing. But there’s something charming about this place. It’s close quarters inside, dark wood, dim lights. The smell of dinner, no longer being served, still lingers in the air.
Ashley looks as lovely as she always does. As we go and sit down at the front bar to order our drinks, she radiates beauty. She’s got on a dark blue dress with a low v-cut in the front, and bright silver jewelry. The bird charm on her necklace is charming in a way that I can’t quite place.
As we sit down, Ashley asks me, “Was this a good idea?”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, frowning a little bit. “Coming out to get a drink? You’re the one that suggested we do this.”
