Chapter 13 Too Much
TOO MUCH
MOLLY
Grey strides in my direction with a look on his face that makes me flush.
He looks hungry.
A tingle spreads through me, warm and electric. But he stops too far away. The tension between us snaps back so fast, I almost lose my balance.
I feel silly, so I smile and say, "Well, I think we found a new PE teacher."
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling a little. "Never in a million years."
"What? Are they too silly for you?" I jump off the stage.
"Too chaotic."
"Ah, I see. Makes sense. You're an orderly guy."
"Do you have another class coming to the library?"
"No--I was actually about to head out to my car. I have a couple boxes of books to bring in while I have a lull."
"Come on. I'll help you. I've got fifteen minutes before the next pack of animals shows up."
If I've learned one thing about Greyson, it's that he's insistent. If I didn't always want whatever he insisted on, I'd probably be real annoyed.
"Well, if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
We're quiet for a second as we leave the gym. It's not an awkward silence, but there's a thread of tension, like we're both thinking about what to say. He beats me to it.
"If you're still good for me to come over Saturday, I have a list of stuff I want to work on."
"Yup. What'd you come up with?"
"Well, I want to fix your front door. Three times this week, I woke up at three in the morning, thinking about that door."
I can't help but laugh picturing him staring at his ceiling, thinking about burglars.
"The only robbers I'm likely to have are raccoons, and they usually stick to the trashcans.
" When he chuckles, I add, "They have those little bandit masks and everything.
It's Roseville, for goodness sake. When was the last time anybody was robbed? "
"I dunno, but I'm sure it happens," he grumbles.
"What else?"
"I want to go around the house and caulk the windows. It's going to get hot soon, and that house isn't going to stay cool. I don't know how you kept warm all winter."
I shrug. "Lots of slippers. A space heater."
"Jesus, your electric bill must have been nuts. I want to check the rest of your cabinets too, and under the sinks. Probably in the crawl space too."
My face pinches. "There's gonna be more than a leaky pipe under there."
"You don't have to go. I'll do it."
"No, I want to! I can handle some spiders. Mice. Animal bones." A shudder clicks down my back.
"A possum or two."
"Aww, but they're cute."
"Not when you're on your belly under a house with one hissing at you."
"Oh. Yeah, probably not."
He pushes open the first set of double glass doors for me, then the second.
"Well, I wanted to ask if there was anything in particular that sounded good for dinner."
"Don't make plans."
I frown, glaring at him. "Listen, we had a deal--"
"I know, but I have a surprise for you."
Grey is smirking, his pale eyes doing that twinkly thing. My frown doesn't subside, but it's flat at least.
"What kind of a surprise?" My car beeps when I unlock it, opening the hatchback with my remote.
"The kind you'll thank me for later." He looks so proud of himself, I laugh. It's the closest to giddy I've ever seen him.
"Must be good."
"Hope so." He stacks one box on the other. I reach for the third, and he looks at me like I'm crazy. "No. I've got it."
I put my hands up in surrender. "Fine."
When he picks them up, the top box comes up to his nose. I snicker.
"Is this safe?"
"Don't worry about me, peaches. Lead the way."
"Yes, sir."
He stiffens next to me, and I almost feel bad about it.
"I'm glad you know what you're doing with the house," I note as we traverse the parking lot. "I don't know what caulk is, but it sounds a lot like a…male body part. A lot of this stuff is kinda dirty. Stud finders and caulk and nailing."
"That's nothing. Double-hung. A window where two sashes slide up and down.
Butt joint is when two ends of wood are flush against each other.
Coupling is a metal strip you secure a pipe with.
When a length of pipe has threads on both ends, it's called a nipple.
" I'm cracking up, so he keeps going. "Ball cock.
What? It's a toilet valve--get your mind out of the gutter.
The waterproofing around roofs and windows is called flashing.
The gang box. Rim joist. Beaver board. Should I keep going? "
I'm still giggling when I push the intercom button. "Please don't. You'll get us fired."
The front desk ladies look at us conspiratorially as we pass, and I try not to blush but fail.
When we're out of the office, I shake my head. "Oooh, they are gonna be talking about us."
"Pretty sure they already are."
My smile falls. "Yeah. Probably." The thought makes me feel weird.
When I don't say anything else, he notes gently, "Hey--they talk about everybody."
I find it in me to chuckle. "Does that make it better?"
"Hm." He's still watching me, but for some reason, I don't want to meet his eyes.
"Does it bother you? I…I thought about us leaving The Horseshoe together, going to Hal's.
Figured people would make assumptions. I'm so used to it, I didn't think twice, but I should have thought about what it'd mean to you. I'm sorry."
Amused, I sneak a quick glance. "How emotionally mature of you. Thank you."
But he doesn't laugh as we descend the stairs and cross the library where my desk and little office are. "Does it bother you?" he asks again quietly.
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I mean, nobody likes being talked about. And whatever they dream up probably isn't the truth."
Grey sets the boxes next to my desk, then sort of half sits on it, which puts us closer to eye level. God, he is so intense sometimes, with his brow furrowed like that and eyes sharp and pale.
"What else?" is all he says.
I shake my head. "I'm not used to people paying attention to me like this. I'm usually the invisible one--. Nobody's ever bothered to whisper about me."
"I can’t imagine you're invisible to anybody, Molly.
" He keeps talking, which is good, because all words leave me with a whoosh.
"I've been talked about my whole life. When my parents were in jail or gone for weeks at a time.
When I lost a game--first as a player, worse as a coach.
I think they had a town meeting when I turned forty and didn't settle down.
" His smile is small, but encouraging. "They'll always find something. That's on them, not you."
I'm all warm and achy in my chest, and I hope he knows I mean it when I say, "Thank you."
"Anytime, peaches." God, I love it when he calls me that. When he looks at me like that. He stands to unstack the boxes, avoiding my eyes when he says, "Anyway, nobody'd really believe you'd have anything to do with an old guy like me."
My face quirks at that. "I don't think you're old."
A single laugh barks out of him as he sets the last box down. "You don't have to spare my feelings, peaches."
"I'm not. I've never once looked at you and thought you were old."
Grey pauses, our eyes latching.
"Do you look at me and think I'm young?" Instantly, I know I don't want to know the answer to that. But I stand my ground and wait.
He watches me as he puts an answer together. "Sometimes I feel the distance between us. But it makes me think I'm too old far more than the other way around."
My brows gather. "Too old for what?"
A frazzled third grade teacher comes from the direction of the gym, her head swiveling until she sees Grey. Relief washes over her. "Oh, thank god, Grey--they're losing it in there."
He stands, nods at her, then looks at me, but I can't make out what he's thinking. And then, he's wearing a little smirk. "Nothing, peaches. I'll see you Saturday at noon."
"Okay." I answer as he rushes off, wishing he could stay, not wanting to wait until Saturday to ask him what, exactly, he's too old for.
Because it couldn't be me.
Could it?