Chapter 16
Sam
I don’t even mean to fall asleep. I tell myself to stay awake because it’s not a sleepover.
Guys like Gray are probably used to getting off, hanging around long enough to pull their clothes back on, and then heading out the door.
Not in a bad way, but this is all normal for him.
That’s what hooking up is about: keeping it casual.
But lying in bed with him, listening to him breathe, it’s hard to feel like it was casual.
He said he liked me. And I said—well, I said way too much.
And he was so much sweeter about everything than I expected.
But as soon as I think that, it feels unfair, because yes, Gray likes to run his mouth, and yes, Gray likes to tease.
But ever since we became, well, friends, Gray has been nothing but sweet to me.
So, there’s this part of me that keeps waiting for him to wake up, grab his shorts, and head for the door.
But there’s also this part of me that keeps thinking about how he asked, Is this okay?
Asked it over and over again, to make sure.
Told me it wasn’t weird to be my age and still a virgin.
Said it was hot. It couldn’t have been that hot since I’d shot in my shorts from him touching me, but it was sweet of him to say it.
And there’s this little voice that says, Plus he got off pretty fast, didn’t he, so I guess I did something right.
I don’t even know how I end up with one arm around him.
He’s knocked out, snoring a little. And I think I better wake him up and offer to drive him back to his car and act casual and normal like shoving my dick down his throat is something we do when we see each other.
Because that’s how it’s supposed to be, I guess.
And somewhere in there, I fall asleep.
I wake up once, in the middle of the night, long enough to turn off the lamp, and when I get back to bed, Gray rolls toward me. I put my arm around him again, and he settles right back down. So, I guess he likes that.
Am I going to freak out?
It doesn’t feel like it. Gray said lots of guys freak out after they get off, and he must know what he’s talking about.
But I don’t feel like freaking out. Maybe I should.
But freaking out would mean the whole thing ought to be a big deal, and it doesn’t feel like that either.
I lie there, Gray under my arm, and I guess it should be a big deal for me.
I mean, I’ve never done this before. Never done anything like it. And he’s a guy.
But it’s like—
It’s like how Mr. Somerset is always asking me, What do you think, Sam?
And What’s your opinion? And How do you feel about that?
Because I’m supposed to think for myself, even if Mr. Hazard usually knows the right answer, and all I have to do is ask him and he’ll tell me and explain why, and I don’t know why that’s any different from using Google.
That’s how this feels. Like this is…me. Like I’m more me, somehow.
Happier. More relaxed. Something fits, and I don’t know why it took me so long.
Or maybe I do, because I spent a lot of my life being a horse’s ass.
I smile, and I have to fight the urge to press my face into Gray’s shoulder.
Tripping over my own dick. I guess now I’ll be tripping over other people’s dicks.
Mr. Somerset is always asking me you, you, you.
And I lie here, running my fingers over Gray’s stomach, and I think, me, me, me.
Only a little light from the street filters into the room, but as my eyes adjust, I can make out more details.
Gray’s neatly trimmed hair. His neck. The knobs of his spine.
It’s too dark to make out the freckles, but his skin is almost glowing.
My arm looks dark draped over him, and in part that’s a tan from running and being out on patrol, and in part it’s because of our complexions.
I want to touch his arms again, and I think of that goofy smile when he flexed for me.
He’s hot, I think. He’s so sexy. And I’ve never thought that before, but it’s like I’m moving through a house, opening doors, and I’ve always lived here, but it’s new, too, so every time I open another door, it’s like I’ve been there before.
All the times I’ve looked at guys and not quite thought what I was thinking.
All the dreams. I’m glad it’s dark because I’m blushing because, well, Mr. Somerset.
I figure the best thing to do would be spend a weekend naked with Gray and memorize every part of him.
Let myself look and touch and do all the things I’ve never done before.
We could go away for a weekend. We’d never even have to leave the hotel.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, the sound of the front door opening reaches us, and Gran’s singing, “To Dream the Impossible Dream” in a falsetto as she comes into the house. Before I even open my eyes, I can tell there’s daylight in the room, which means it’s morning.
Oh shit.
I scramble upright. Gray rocks on the mattress next to me.
He’s still snoring. Somehow, I manage to get over him.
On my way across the room, I stumble because my legs haven’t gotten the message that we’re awake and we’ve got shit to do.
The door is already closed, but I press the little thumb lock.
It only makes a tiny sound, and Gran is still singing like she’s the Man from La Mancha, but I’m waiting for her to cut off and call, “Sammy?”
But she doesn’t. Because Gran is in love. Again.
When I turn around, Gray’s propped on one elbow, blinking sleep-dark eyes. He says, “Your grandma’s home.”
I nod.
He rubs his face. Yawns. Stretches. I’ve never noticed how broad his chest is before, and then I think, Samuel Yarmark, knock it off, because now is not the time.
“What time is it?” Gray asks, twisting to look at the clock. “Fuck me. I can’t believe I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crash here.”
“It’s okay,” I say. I’m trying not to whisper, but I can’t help talking quietly.
Gray’s reaching for his shirt. He glances up at me. And then he says, “Shit.”
“What?”
In a different tone, he says, “Your grandma’s home.”
I nod, but mostly, I’m listening. She’s moved back to her bedroom now.
“Got it,” Gray says. He gets to his feet, gives a little shake of his head, and starts pulling on his clothes. “Hey, are you, uh, okay?”
She likes to take a shower before she goes to bed, especially after she’s been out all night, and I’m waiting for the water to start, so I don’t really hear him. “Huh?”
“Are we good?” Gray’s dragging on his socks now. “I mean, we don’t have to talk about last night, but if there’s a problem—”
“What problem?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking.”
I feel like I missed some part of the conversation. “I thought we had fun.”
“Yeah, we did.”
“Okay.” But it still doesn’t feel okay, so I say, “I told you I like you, remember?”
For some reason, that makes him grin. “Now that you mention it.”
“Okay.” And I can’t help but ask, “Do you feel weird because you slept over? I guess that’s not what people normally do, is it?”
He’s looking at me like he’s seeing me through something. Or like he’s finally noticing something. And then he says, “You have got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“Are you seriously making it this easy?”
“Making what easy?” But he doesn’t answer, and finally I decide I better make sure he knows, so I say, “If it’s about sleeping over, you don’t have to feel weird, because I liked it.”
“You liked it, huh?”
I nod.
“Did you like it more than choking me on that hog you keep in your trunks?”
It takes me half a second to—to catch my balance, I guess. And then I say, “About the same.”
He bursts out laughing.
“Gray—” I throw a look at the door, and then I cross the room and put a hand over his mouth.
He’s smiling against my palm. And then he ducks away from my hand and kisses me.
I kiss him back. And something happens in my head because I can’t hear anything for a while. When I finally can—and Gray’s pulling back—Gran’s got her shower running.
Gray touches the corner of my mouth with his thumb, and that’s when I realize I’m smiling. He’s smiling too, but mostly with his eyes. And then he says, “Morning, beautiful.”
It feels silly, sure. But it’s also pins and needles, my face getting hot.
Gray acts like he doesn’t notice. But he’s a detective, so I’m sure he does.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to put away the king cobra, and then you’re going to give me the all-clear, and I’m going to leave without your grandma seeing me.
” I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, Gray adds, “I’ll catch an Uber. How’s that?”
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” I say.
“I know.”
“Gran’s already obsessed with you.”
“Sam, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. This just kind of…happened.”
“I’m glad it happened.” I can’t help lowering my voice again, feeling that flush prickle in the hollow of my throat, when I add, “I really liked doing that with you.”
He smirks. “I know.”
And that’s Gray, too. I figure I might as well get the rest of it out too, while he’s feeling so proud of himself. “And you were real sweet about—about everything.”
The smirk shifts into something else. Still a smile, but somehow…more. He says, “Anybody worth being with would have done that for you. You’re a catch, Sam Yarmark. Thanks for sharing that moment with me.”
But, I almost say, not anybody. Because it was you. And that was what mattered.
I don’t, though.
“So,” he says, “do you have to wrestle a load out of that garden hose before you can wind it up, or—”
He’s still laughing when I shove him into the dresser.
The sound of the water changes when Gran finally gets into the shower, but just to be safe, I leave the bedroom first. There’s no disguising the click of the thumb lock, and there’s no way Gray could miss that either, but he doesn’t say anything. The kitchen is clear. The living room too.
When I turn around, Gray’s already in the hallway.
“I thought I was going to be the lookout,” I say.
He loops his arms around my waist and kisses my neck.
I laugh, but my eyes go to the end of the hall.
“Maybe I’m not going to leave,” Gray says between kisses. He’s working his way down to that spot on my collarbone that’s sore, but in a good way. “Maybe I came out here to drag you back to bed.”
“Good luck with that.”
I guess I could try to get free from him, but instead, I shuffle backward, and Gray comes with me.
He’s leaning on me, which means we stumble every time I move, which means I crash into the sofa, and then into the side table, and I knock over that stupid picture of me at the academy, sending it skittering across the tabletop.
He’s having an effect on me too.
When he tries to get his hands down my pants, I grab his wrists.
He looks up at me with that look—the one everybody knows he’s capable of.
It’s the one that says he’s innocent as a lamb and butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and all that horseshit, and there must be some misunderstanding about how my hand got to your dick. I can’t help it; I start laughing.
“Get out of here, you maniac,” I say, but I kiss him.
The kiss goes on for a while, and I only know it’s over when I can hear Gran singing in the shower; it sounds like she’s gargling her way through one of those songs from Gypsy I don’t know.
“Thanks,” Gray says. His arms are still around my waist, and they tighten now, drawing me to him. “I was in a bad place last night.” Then the corner of his mouth ticks up, and he’s all trouble again.
“Yeah, well, thank you, too. For, you know.”
“What if I pretend to leave?” he asks. “I’ll go around the block and come back and ring the doorbell and be a total gentleman. I’ll tell your grandma I need you to adjust my back, and that’ll explain any weird noises.”
“Goodbye, Gray,” I say, but I kiss him one last time as I shove him out the door.
He’s laughing as he stumbles down the steps, and then he turns and jogs up the block.
He’s got a great ass.
That’s something else I never let myself think before.
I shut the door, and when I turn around, Gran’s standing in the hall. She’s wearing her kimono, and her hair is wrapped in a towel, and she’s looking right at me. Past me. At the door.
“Hey,” I finally say. “How was your date?”
“Wonderful. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Why were you opening the door?”
“A kid threw a rock at it.”
Gran pulls her kimono tighter. She looks around the room as though she might have missed something, and her gaze lands on the overturned picture. “I thought I heard something.”
“Oh,” I say, and I flip the picture upright again and put it back the way she had it. “I must have bumped the table on my way to the door.”
The pause is longer this time. “No, I thought I heard someone. In the house.”
“Just me, Gran.” And for some reason, as I head into the kitchen, I feel like I have to keep talking. “Just you and me.”