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I smile reassuringly, hoping that will help.
He chuckles a little and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I let go of him and wrap my arm protectively across my waist, holding on to my other elbow for support.
He furrows his brows then looks down at the sidewalk. When he looks up at me, there’s unmistakable conviction in his gaze. My stomach is already twisted into a tight knot as he launches into it. “So here’s the thing. You’re awesome, Tate, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day, about how you’re a little confused and you’re in a weird place right now. But the thing is…” He takes a step closer to me and draws a hand through his hair, mussing the neat strands. “I’d be crazy if I didn’t fight for you. I mean, I’ve seriously had a crush on you forever, even back when I was with my ex, if I’m being totally honest… I can’t just let you slip through my fingers.”
I was expecting something along these lines, but not this, not him bearing his heart so totally freely. I’m not sure what to say. I’m not exactly used to guys declaring their interest in me so blatantly.
I stay quiet as he continues. “This thing between us could be great. I know it.”
Then he leans down and presses a light kiss against my lips.
I’m too startled to do anything but stand stock-still, then he steps back with a hopeful smile.
“I think this is what the teens call shooting your shot,” he says with a silly wink.
I smile timidly, and just as I do, my gaze rises up past Michael’s shoulders, toward the entrance of my building where Grant stands waiting for me.
EIGHTEEN
TATE
I picture chaos raining down on the sidewalk as Grant loses his cool. I picture curses, uppercuts, split lips. I picture me crying like a fool watching these two men go at it over me.
In reality, Michael falls away, leaving to flag a taxi, wholly unaware that he’s just tossed me a live grenade. Meanwhile, Grant stays where he is, his hands tucked into his pockets, his warm gaze steady on me as I approach. Emotions flood me; I’m a jittery scared mess. After the day I’ve had, Grant more than anyone else on earth has the capacity to absolutely wreck me. It’s scary to realize how much I feel for him, how little control I have where he’s concerned.
“Hi.”
The word feels ineffective.
Hi and I’m sorry and I’m not sure what you saw or what you just heard but please accept this meek hi.
“Hi.”
I look down the street, chickening out of holding eye contact. “Want to take a walk?”
He’s here for a reason. If he’s in a rush, he’ll let me know. If not, well…
There’s no vitriol in his eyes, no anger behind his nod when he agrees. He even reaches out to take my hospital bag. He grasps it and we go another two blocks in silence until we arrive at a small neighborhood park with a smattering of benches, a playground, and giant trees. I love this park.
There’s an empty bench we head toward. I sit on one end, Grant claims the other. I try not to notice the healthy distance, the fact that he tucks my bag safely between us. He takes care to ensure it won’t tip over.
“Will you give me the chance to explain myself?”
He doesn’t say anything, so I trudge right along.
“I told you the truth the other night. I talked to Michael the other day about ending things, though we were never really all that serious or exclusive to begin with, just to be clear.” I sigh. “Anyway, I hadn’t seen him since then, and today after work, he asked me if we could talk. Not so unlike what you and I are doing now.”
I can’t even look at him, which is fine because he’s staring straight ahead too when he finally asks, “What’d he say before he kissed you?”
My stomach twists tight with anxiety. “That he has a crush on me. That he…” God, why does it feel embarrassing to admit this? “He thinks I’m worth fighting for.”
I say the last part so quietly I’m not even sure he hears me. It doesn’t feel good to admit the truth to Grant. I’d sugarcoat it if I could.
“Seeing him kiss you…” He shakes his head. “I’m surprised I kept my composure.” He says it with so much conviction I nearly crumble.
“Grant.”
He sucks in a deep breath and leans forward, dropping his elbows to his knees. We stare out at the park, at the little kids passing us on scooters, the moms chasing after them, the guys playing a pick-up game of ultimate frisbee. The whole time I feel like I might be sick, like I might lean over and throw up everything in my stomach.
