17. Grady
17
GRADY
“I fucked up.”
My body bounces against the hotel bed as I flop hard on my back. Steal is well used to my antics by now and doesn’t even look up from his phone.
We’ve been rooming together on the road long enough to have a routine down. Steal gets the bed closer to the window, and I get the one closer to the door. If there is a closet, we throw our bags in it, but if there isn’t, we toss them on the floor in front of our beds. This room has a closet, but it’s barely big enough to house the safe and ironing board that all hotel rooms seem to be required to have, so we’ve opted to leave our bags out. Steal’s is zipped up tight, the dark blue canvas still looking brand new despite being a few years old. Mine is open, clothes spilling from the top and covering the battered sides.
“What’d you do now?”
“Sucked Elliot’s dick because I got jealous he was talking to Adam Shelby.”
“I’m sorry,” he drops his phone, immediately turning to face me. Steal doesn’t just shift his torso in my direction. His entire body moves to the edge of the bed until his feet are on the ground and both elbows are resting against his knees. “Start from the beginning.”
“Elliot was talking to Shelby?—”
“Nah,” Steal snaps his fingers to interrupt me. “I said the beginning . There’s not a chance in hell you went from being completely platonic friends with Elliot to sucking his dick because he talked to Adam Shelby.”
I wince, letting my head fall to the side so I’m facing my best friend. “We might have already slept together. Twice.”
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me!”
“I’m sorry!” I let out a pained sound, spinning until I’m mirroring Steal’s position. “It just kind of happened, then I wasn’t sure it was going to happen again, but then it did, and I just...fuck. I really like him.”
Steal gives me a no-shit look before leaning back and crossing his arms. “From the beginning.”
“I made the move, like you told me to.”
“What move?”
“I talked to him about books.” I can’t stop the little smile from spreading across my face at the memory of how surprised Elliot had been when I dropped into the seat next to him. “Then we were texting?—”
“Who sent the first text?”
“Me,” I point at my chest as if he wouldn’t know who I was otherwise. “And the texts got, well. They weren’t sexts, but they were about sex, if that makes sense.”
Steal shakes his head, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “It doesn’t but continue.”
“The next time I saw him, he kissed me.”
“And you kissed him back?”
It’s like he’s in my head, and I kind of hate it. “Not exactly.”
“Right, because you not kissing him back naturally led to sex,” Steal deadpans, and I flip him off.
“It kind of did, dickhead.”
“Okay, so you turned a botched kiss into sex, then what happened?”
“I sort of suggested that Elliot use me to experiment.”
“Oh,” Steal nods his head as if he’s just come up with all the answers to the universe before pointing at me with a knowing smile. “So you’re an asshole.”
“Dude,” I toss a pillow at him, but he easily dodges it. “This is serious.”
Steal glares at me, crossing his arms. “I know it’s serious. Elliot is off limits for all kinds of reasons, not even considering that he works for the Cougars and could lose his fucking job if someone finds out about the two of you. But at least you got your dick wet, right?”
“Fuck you, it isn’t like that.”
“Grady,” he groans, tipping his head back as if begging the universe for patience. “You’re experimenting with Elliot . Not only are you fucking around with him, you’re getting jealous . How do you think this is going to end? Are you going to be able to go back to hearing Elliot talk about the shitty dates he goes on? Will you sit patiently through family nights when he brings boyfriends around?”
“Why are you assuming it’s going to end?”
Steal’s mouth drops open as he stares at me. I want to reach over and snap it shut, but I’d end up getting hit before I even touch his face. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I am not.”
“Grady,” Steal sounds almost sad when he says my name this time, and I hate it. “You’re my best friend. I love you more than anything. There isn’t a single person in this world I want in my corner more than you, man. Remember that when I say this, okay?”
He waits for me to respond, but I don’t have it in me to do more than nod. “You don’t have a good track record with relationships, and I’m not just talking about whatever happened with Mary. I’m talking about all of it. Every relationship you’ve ever had that lasts longer than a night ends in a shitstorm of massive proportions.”
“That isn’t?—”
“Cole broke all the windows out of your Mercedes. Annalisa told the press you gave her herpes. Chris ghosted you so hard that he sold his condo just so you wouldn’t know where he lived anymore. Tom set your bed on fire. Dara stole your identity. You see the pattern here?”
“Some of that wasn’t my fault.”
“Then tell me what happened with Mary.”
I force a hard breath through my nose, trying and failing to control the anger welling up in my chest. “Elliot isn’t like that.”
“You still can’t talk about her, but you think you’re ready to start a new relationship?”
I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve stood up. “Fuck you, Conrad.”
“Grady, stop,” Steal calmly stands, pressing a hand into my chest until I sit back on the bed. He sighs, spinning around to drop on the mattress next to me. “I want you and Elliot to work out.”
“Sure doesn’t seem like it to me.”
“Yeah, well,” he bumps our shoulders together, and I hiss out a breath. “Shit, sorry, dude.”
I shake my head, leaning my shoulder back into his. “It’s fine.”
“You really like him?”
“Way more than I was ready to.”
“Does he like you?”
I consider that question, thinking over the last two weeks. “He likes when I suck his dick.”
“Not a visual I needed,” Steal makes a face. “Elliot is my sweet, innocent friend. Untouched by this world.”
“He definitely isn’t,” I snort, but I don’t elaborate. I doubt Elliot would want Steal knowing he likes to be called a filthy whore while he gets fucked, and I don’t want him to know it, either. It occurs to me that I’m the only person who knows that about Elliot, and I make it my personal mission to ensure I’m the only one who ever does. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“Then don’t fuck it up.”
“You seem to think I already have.”
“Need I remind you, you’re the one who came in here declaring that you fucked up,” Steal’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline as he tips his head in my direction. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I sigh, flopping against the mattress again. “I definitely did. I went all caveman possessive on him. It was not good.”
“Did he say it wasn’t good?”
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory. “I didn’t really give him a chance to say.”
“Dude,” Steal snorts, turning to lean against my headboard. “Little Elliot Bennett’s got you fucked up.”
My bicep drops across my face to cover the blush I know is spreading over my skin. “You have no idea.”
Steal kicks my thigh, making me turn to look at him. “You need to talk to him about this.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“What if he says he doesn’t want me? Then what?”
“Then you sit at family dinners and politely pass the potatoes to his husband.”
“I hate you.”
“You did this to yourself, man.”
Steal slaps my hand before getting off the bed. He drops onto his own mattress, picking up his phone to resume watching whatever video had been playing when I came storming in. I get up, grabbing my clothes on the way to the bathroom, but I stop when a new thought pushes to the front of my mind. “Have you ever seen Nell get so mad at Mills that she goes silent?”
“Silent?” Steal seems to consider it for a moment before very succinctly saying, “No.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”
The next game is another close loss to the Astros, and this one hits even harder than the first. It’s a midday game, so we have six hours to sit with it hanging over our heads. Elliot sinks into the seat at my side, but I don’t look up. We’re at a hole-in-the-wall Greek place that Hoax insisted we go to, though I doubt he expected us to end up here after a loss.
“Alright, someone make the joke.”
I glance at Elliot over my shoulder, his face pulled into a disappointed frown. “What joke?”
“The...the joke. Come on,” he sighs dramatically, gesturing to the menu board. “We’re all about to eat meat covered in a white, creamy sauce, and not a single one of you has made a joke about it.”
Miller lifts his head from the table, honey brown eyes lighting up at Elliot’s words. “You eat a lot of cream-covered meat, Elliot?”
“I do,” Elliot snarks back, a bright smile on his face. “The cream’s my favorite part.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steal groans, shoving at Elliot’s shoulder. We lock eyes, and Steal gives me a murderous look. He’s clearly not over me telling him Elliot isn’t innocent, and I can’t help the feral smile spreading across my face.
“What’s the matter, Conrad? You don’t like the idea of Elliot swallowing hot, cream-coated meat?”
“I don’t like knowing what any of you get up to in your free time.” He slaps Miller’s hand away when the other man tries to poke Steal in the ribs. “Don’t fuck with me, Mills, or I’ll tell them all what I caught you and Charlotte doing last week.”
“Dude!” Mills immediately scoots his chair away from Steal, both hands raised in surrender.
“Oh, my God, did you finally get pegged?”
Hoax sounds far too excited by that idea, and Miller turns wide eyes on the younger man. “I am not trying to get kicked out of this restaurant, Hoaxley.”
“Then just whisper it to me,” Hoax leans toward Mills, who shoves him away with a laugh.
“I’d rather take hot, creamy meat to the throat than tell you anything.”
Hoax glances around our table, a calculating look in his eyes. “Somehow, out of everyone here, you’re in the top two for people I’d assume regularly have hot meat shoved down their throats.”
“First, thank you for that compliment.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Second,” Miller’s hand snaps out, slapping Hoax on the back of the head. “You’re dead to me.”
Hoax’s loud laugh pulls more than one set of eyes in our direction. “You just said it was a compliment!”
“It is a compliment, but you sided with Steal, and I will never forgive you for that.”
They dissolve into a giggle-filled argument about whether Hoax technically took anyone’s side, but I stop listening in favor of staring at Elliot. He’s watching the two of them fake fight with the brightest smile on his face, and I can’t help but reach for him.
We’re in the middle of a restaurant, surrounded by our friends, so I quickly redirect my hand under the table to grab his knee. Elliot’s attention immediately snaps to my face, and I mouth “Thank you” when our eyes meet. He smiles at me in that soft way I’ve always craved. It’s the same one I see him give to Hoax and Scott when they’re silently communicating, and I feel something shift in my chest.
I’ve been watching Elliot Bennett for longer than I realized. There’s no other reason why I would recognize the type of smile he’s giving me right now or why it would make me feel this relieved to finally be on the receiving end of one. I told myself I was only paying attention to his interactions with our friends because I wanted to see how different they were from our conversations, but that wasn’t true. I’ve been fascinated by Elliot since the first time I saw him standing next to King’s kitchen table, and it’s only getting worse now that he’s smiling at me.
I’m going to fuck this up. He’s going to realize I’m not worth it, or worse, he’s going to try and push me, and I’m going to react by permanently burning the bridge. Then what? What happens when Elliot is back to hating me? Can I live with that? Thinking he hated me when he didn’t know me was hard enough. How will I handle knowing he hates me because I hurt him?
How will I live with myself if I hurt Elliot?
“Grady?”
“Huh?”
“You gonna eat?” The food arrived while I was staring at Elliot, and everyone else is digging into their gyros with intense enthusiasm. “You’ll need the energy for later.”
“Later?” I let my voice drop and am immediately rewarded with a soft pink blush staining Elliot’s cheeks.
“Your PT? We’re doing an extra session tonight. Didn’t you get my text?”
After the blowjob fiasco last night, I’ve been avoiding Elliot’s texts. Apparently, I needn’t have worried about it. He was texting me about PT, not about the unacceptable way I cornered him outside the hotel.
“I didn’t see it, sorry.” I reach for the last gyro in the middle of the table, pulling it toward me quickly. “But I’ll be there.”