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“Grayson,” I chide.
“Mila,” he says, his tone mimicking mine.
“You need to rest.”
“Fine, I promise I’ll sleep tonight,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say. This all feels so hard right now. I wish there was something I could do to lighten his load. I go to open the door but stop myself. There is something. Even if the thought makes my stomach do a turning thing.
“Do you think maybe we should put a pin in this?” I ask him.
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … us,” I say.
He sits back in his chair, his eyes searching my face. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I tell him. “But maybe it’s for the best? At least until after the summit. Then we’ll have more time to see where this goes.”
My stomach is twisted in knots. I don’t want this, but also, it might be the best thing to do right now, for both of us—but especially for Grayson.
When he doesn’t respond, I keep going. “We’re both busy, and I think not having to try to navigate all this right now will make things less complicated.”
He swipes a hand down his face again. The gesture seems more from frustration this time. I’m frustrated too. But I think it’s what we need to do.
“I guess that makes sense,” he finally says. There’s irritation in his tone.
I nod, my hand on the door. “I think it’s for the best.”
“Okay,” he says.
“I’ll … see you later then,” I say, giving him a closed-mouth smile before opening the door and walking out.
This is the right thing to do. I feel good about it. Except no, actually, I don’t. I don’t like this at all, and I’m pretty sure I’ll spend the next two and a half months pining for Grayson, which will take over my brain and possibly affect my work worse than if I’d just let things stand as they were. I’ll just have to compartmentalize. I’ll stick this in a box labeledWhyyyyyy?, tuck it in the back of my brain, and pull it back out in September.
I walk into my office and set my computer down, then turn to find Grayson coming in after me, shutting the door behind him.
“No,” he says, standing there with his hands on his hips, a fierce sort of look on his face.
“N-no?” I stammer, taking a step toward him. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t agree with that,” he says. “I’m not putting a pin in this.”
“Grayson—”
“I know it’s hard right now, and we have a lot to do, but I’m not going to be able to just set my feelings for you aside and direct my focus solely on my work. My brain doesn’t work like that. I could barely manage it before when I thought you were with someone else.”
“But—”
“Can you?”
“Can I what?”
“Just shut your feelings off like that?”
I could tell him yes, which would basically be lying. I can compartmentalize some things, but not this. I tried before when I was fighting my attraction to him, and even then, when I didn’t know things were reciprocated, I couldn’t really do it. But now, when I know he wants this? It seems impossible. Still, I would try if it meant making it easier on him.
I shake my head instead.
