Chapter 7
SELENA
It’s still dark out when I wake up. I’m in Sammy’s bed while he’s passed out on the recliner he brought over from his old room back home.
The first thing I do is text Jess where I am. In case she goes back to our place, I don’t want her to worry when she doesn’t find me there. Then, I sneak out of Sammy’s room as quietly as possible to go down to the kitchen.
Even though Gibson Place is my brother’s home during the school year, I’m rarely here. I come over once a month, when a certain someone goes on vacation who knows where. All I know is it never fails that he comes back crankier than usual. And that’s saying something.
There’s only one place I go when I’m not here: my parents’. And whenever I visit, I always leave homesick.
Anyway, I’m hungry. I only ate leftover pizza while Jess and I got ready to go out last night. My stomach growls a second time as I climb down the steps.
Gibson Place looks exactly like you’d expect after a party.
Empty cans and bottles litter every surface.
There’s jackets and hoodies over chairs and by the entrance.
Two guys are passed out in the living room.
Looks like Trevor and Troy. Trevor’s spread out on the sectional and Troy is curled into a ball on the loveseat.
Tangled is playing on the huge widescreen tv.
I continue silently toward the kitchen, careful not to step on anything that looks wet or suspicious. The light is on and when I round the doorway, I’m surprised to see him there. Grayson Rhodes.
He’s busy picking up red plastic cups and tossing them into a trash bag to notice me. Or, maybe he’s just ignoring me again. It’s what he tends to do.
Right now he has his back to me and I’m pretty sure I’m a little hungover because I’m actually checking him out.
His hair looks messier than usual and he’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white muscle shirt.
A tight, white muscle shirt. The lean muscles forming his shoulders and arms are defined and impressive, rippling with every movement.
I follow the trajectory of his broad back down to a slim waist to narrow hips. ..
I don’t think I’ve ever looked at him this long.
Not that I want to either. He’s a rude jerk after all.
But despite that, I guess there’s something about his body that some would find kind of, sort of.
..appealing. I will admit that the way his butt looks in those sweatpants is making my cheeks burn with the embarrassed realization of what I’m doing.
I should not be checking him out. I should avert my gaze.
For a second I consider returning the way I came so we don’t have to interact. But, I’m hungry. Besides, he did help me last night.
Much of it is a blur, but I do remember Grayson Rhodes practically carrying me to my car, saving me from falling twice, then driving me here, to the safety of my brother’s house. One thing is vivid in my mind: he didn’t like touching me.
Anyway, I know I fell asleep in the passenger seat and woke up as Grayson parked in the driveway.
When I tried to get out of the car, I nearly fell.
I’m pretty sure he carried me into the house after that because I recall the moment I asked, “Am I flying?” and he replied, “You’re ridiculous, you know that. ”
He didn’t give me a chance to thank him though. He simply left me on the couch next to Sammy, and was gone.
I should probably thank him now. I mean, he didn’t have to pick me up or make sure I was okay.
Even though I try not to let him affect me, it never fails that he does exactly that. Anytime he’s around I’m always hyper focused on him. I mean, it’s probably because I need to know when and how to insult him, obviously.
In the past, there had been times I considered trying to get past the animosity between us, but any attempt on my part? He shuts it down. Whatever, I’ll thank him for last night and be done with it.
With that thought in mind, I step into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I croak. I hadn’t realized my mouth was so dry.
Grayson turns, dark eyebrows narrowed in irritation.
“What are you wearing?” He looks and sounds disgusted.
I glance down at myself. Sammy let me borrow one of his practice shirts with the words Tower Lake University Baseball across my chest. My brother is six feet tall so his shirt goes past my thighs, hiding the shorts I wore under my skirt last night.
I suppose I might look silly since the shirt’s so big on me.
I don’t mention this to Grayson, instead opting for another question.
“Do you need a hand cleaning up?”
Why did I ask that? Say thanks, get food, and leave!
“No.”
“We’ll finish faster if we work together,” I offer with a smile. Am I still drunk?
He stops to glare at me. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
Deep breath, Selena. If we’re both upset we’ll never get anywhere.
“Listen,” I pause to remind myself he’s just a guy. One I hate—am trying not to hate. No, a guy I definitely hate. Maybe. Anyway, he’s just a grumpy guy who’s kind of attractive. Okay, that’s not helping. Why am I starting to feel nervous? “I wanted to thank you—”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he cuts me off.
Deeper breath.
“Look, I think somewhere along the way we got off on the wrong foot.”
What am I talking about? You said thanks, now grab something edible and go!
Grayson looks pretty yummy right now, my hungover brain adds unhelpfully. Aaand now I’m blushing. Great.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “On the wrong foot?”
The muscles in his arms are bulging, the veins running along his forearms are more pronounced. The way he exudes confidence needs to be studied, replicated, and sold to the masses. Because he looks intimidating in a really good way. Wait, no.
I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.
I swallow.
When I don’t answer, he simply turns from me to continue cleaning up. Still, the whole time, he wasn’t ignoring me. Is this...progress? I mean, it’s the longest conversation we’ve ever had. Actually, it’s the only conversation we’ve ever had after that one time.
“Yeah,” I say, “so maybe if you tell me what I did to offend you...” Because I clearly recall what he did to offend me! “I mean, if this is about what happened freshman year—”
“Let me stop you right there, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
“You and I?” he says. “We’re never going to be friends.”
I’ve never had any problem making friends. Never. Except for him. My heart sinks a little for that reason. Still, I don’t give up. Which tells me I’m definitely still drunk.
“You’re friends with my brother,” I offer.
“You’re not your brother.”
Ouch.
When I say that in my entire life I’ve never hated another person, it’s true. But this guy?! Honestly, I don’t know if I hate him or how he makes me feel. It’s like I don’t know what I’m doing around him. I hate how I doubt myself.
“Well, thanks for the ride,” I mutter and walk away feeling worse than when I came in.