27 - Haven
HAVEN
The door opened, and I looked up to find Grayson leaning against the frame like he’d been standing there the whole time. His shirt was gone. His hair was damp. Like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
Because of course he had.
“Shower-stalking me again?” he mused.
There was no time for talk. I pushed straight past him and rushed inside, as he looked on in disbelief.
“Why don’t you just come in?” he said sarcastically.
I turned slowly, just as he closed the door. He took one look in my eyes, and then reached up and locked it.
“That bad?” he asked.
“What?”
“You don’t strike me as the type that scares easily,” he said.
“I’m— I’m not.”
“Then why are you here?”
I crossed my arms and tried rubbing away my goosebumps. It wasn’t working.
“Because some idiot decided to start a fight in the hallway.”
“Ah,” he acknowledged. “Welcome to away games.”
I forced myself to take a long, deep breath. Between the door being locked and Grayson’s presence, I felt a thousand times better already.
“I didn’t ask for the cultural experience.”
“No one does,” he shrugged. “But you always get it anyway.”
A silence settled, as I looked around. His room was marginally better than mine. Same thin curtains. Same questionable carpet. Same heater rattling in the corner like it was about to drop a kidney.
“No roommate?”
He shook his head. “Hotel ran out of doubles. Perks of being captain.”
“Lucky you.”
“Lucky me.”
Grayson crossed to a small pile of clothes and began rummaging around for a T-shirt. He found one, and began turning it right-side in.
“You can hang out a few minutes, if you want,” he said, nodding toward the bed. “Until things quiet down.”
“A few minutes?” I huffed. “How magnanimous of you.”
Our eyes met. He frowned.
“Hey, you didn’t have to come here.”
“I know.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah.”
Another beat. Longer this time.
“Still think I don’t trust you?” he asked, pulling his shirt on.
I didn’t answer right away. I was too busy watching those washboard abs disappear.
“I don’t know what I think anymore,” I sighed, tiredly.
He scoffed. “That’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because you usually think you’ve got everything figured out.”
I was no longer afraid. Not now. Not in his room. But he could sense that, too.
Maybe that’s why he stepped even closer to me.
“You uhh, want some clothes?”
I looked down, and suddenly realized what I was wearing. A T-shirt that left my naval exposed. Sleep shorts that barely covered my ass. Everything was tight, including money. That’s why I generally relegated old clothing into sleepwear.
“I’m fine,” I said defiantly.
Grayson dropped the sweatpants he was holding back to the bed and shrugged.
“Suit yourself, Spreadsheet. I’m not complaining about the view.”
His gaze lingered for a moment, in retribution. Then he rummaged through his bag some more, and came out with two bottles of water.
“Here.”
I took mine, and our hands touched. His fingers felt warm and reassuring against mine. I felt like I should move, or step back, or let go.
Before I could, he lightly took my wrist.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and husky. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
My pulse quickened almost immediately.
“I told you, there was a fight in the hallway.”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a half step closer. “But you came here.”
The scent of him reached my nostrils, and it did something to me. Something I didn’t want to admit.
“You’re doing it again,” I said softly.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to take control of the situation.”
A faint smirk touched his mouth.
“And you’re letting me.”
“Am I?”
I turned my wrist slightly in his hand. Not pulling away, but not giving in either.
Just… changing the angle. Taking something back.
Grayson’s grip tightened. Barely, but enough.
“That’s not how this works,” he murmured. “You came to my room. You knocked on my door.”
“So?”
“And now you’re standing here, pretending like you don’t know exactly what this is.”
I felt my pulse spike again. It was sharp. Immediate.
“What is it, then?” I challenged.
He let go, relaxing his fingers. For some reason, I still didn’t pull away.
Shit.
Grayson took the victory. His smirk widened.
“You want to stay here tonight, don’t you?”
I struggled to respond. There was no good answer.
“You can, you know. You can sleep with me if you’d feel safer.”
“I am not sleeping with—”
“Just sleep,” he cut me off. “Alongside me. Not with me.”
Relief flowed through me, locked suddenly in a mortal battle with disappointment.
I shook that last thought aside, even as Grayson drew closer.
“You’ll need to kiss me first, though.”
My breath caught.
“Kiss you? Why?”
“Because I don’t get into bed with a girl, unless I’ve kissed her.”
My expression twisted into a scowl.
“Sounds… juvenile.”
“It’s policy.”
“Whose policy?”
“Mine.”
Sometime during our conversation, the hand holding my wrist had slid up my arm. His fingers traced lightly over my skin, before settling just below my elbow.
“Unless you’re afraid,” he shrugged. “Again.”
“Of you?” I scoffed. “No chance.”
“Then do it,” he said simply. “So we can get to bed.”
Get to bed.
A ball of excitement flared in the pit of my stomach. We were dangerously close now. Our faces floating together, as the electricity built between us.
There was no denying that electricity, either. Not anymore.
“If I kiss you, it’ll mean nothing,” I told him.
“Do it, then.”
I sighed. “But…”
Grayson didn’t just look at me, his eyes captured mine. They were so strikingly blue, incredibly deep.
They made me feel woozy and breathless, like I were standing at the edge of a cliff.
I found myself falling into them.
“Fine.”
The word barely left my lips before I moved. Not fast. Not hesitant, either. Just…
…inevitable.
I stepped into him, my hand sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. For a split second, I hovered there — close enough to feel his breath, close enough to back out.
I didn’t, though.
My lips brushed his. Soft. Testing. Like I was proving a point more than anything else.
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then—
Grayson’s hand came up, firm against my waist. He pulled me in just enough to erase the space between us.
The kiss deepened. Not rushed, not sloppy. Controlled. Like everything else about him.
Even so, there was something beneath it — something tighter, sharper — like he was holding himself back. But I could also sense he was losing that battle, one second at a time.
My fingers curled into his shirt. His grip on my waist tightened.
And suddenly this wasn’t a test anymore; wasn’t something we’d done to fulfill a requirement.
It was real.
Holy shit.
Heat surged through me, fast and overwhelming, as his mouth moved against mine. He was stronger now, more certain. I felt it everywhere; in my chest, my stomach, my entire body. My pulse, hammering out of control.
After a while, I should’ve pulled away.
I didn’t.
Not until breathing became an issue. And even then, it barely did.
When our lips finally parted it happened slowly, like neither of us was convinced it was over. Grayson’s face was adorably flush. His forehead hovered just inches from mine.
“Still mean nothing?” he murmured.
I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I said.
A beat.
“Probably.”