have a long talk ahead of us.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when I finally do fall asleep, I dream of him, that kiss, and the things we should’ve done after it. I wake feeling happy, excited, and a little let down that none of it was real.
I usually take advantage of Sundays by lounging around my house all day in my pajamas while binge-watching my favorite shows, doing laundry, napping, cleaning, and eating. I start my day with a long, hot shower. I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and tug my hair up into a messy ponytail. I heat up a frozen breakfast bowl with eggs, gravy, potatoes, cheese, and sausage. Then I take my food and coffee to the couch to start watching TV.
I take my time eating and drinking my coffee while watching an episode of Supernatural. When I finish, I take everything to the kitchen and start cleaning up while listening to what’s happening on the TV. As I’m starting a load of laundry, I hear a light tapping on the door. I look at the time on my watch as I head to the front of the apartment. It’s only 9 a.m. Who could that be this early?
I look through the peephole and find Grayson on the other side. A long breath leaves my lips. I knew I’d have to talk with him at some point, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. He knocks again as I stand there, trying to work up the courage to answer the door.
“Come on, Cora. I know you’re mad, but let’s talk about this,” he says from the other side.
I don’t want him to think that he did anything wrong, even though I still kind of feel like he did, so I open the door and our eyes meet. The tingle I felt yesterday during our kiss returns, starting in the pit of my stomach. I shake off the feeling. It’s probably just whatever’s left over from my dream last night.
“Come in,” I say, opening the door a little wider. He steps inside and I close the door behind him before leading him back to the living room and having a seat on the couch. He slowly walks into the room and gently sits beside me. He’s leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes directed at the TV.
I pull my feet up on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees, waiting.
“Look, Cora,” he starts, but I jump in.
“No, let me start.” I take a deep breath, not completely sure of what I’m wanting to say, but knowing I don’t want him to feel bad. “You didn’t do anything wrong, so please don’t feel bad. It was me. I just reacted badly. Here you are, trying to be a nice guy and help me out, and I yell at you?” I shake my head at myself and let it hang.
“Can I talk now?” he asks, causing me to look up at him.
I nod.
“I had a lot of fun with you last night. You sort of blew me away with your singing. You just looked so happy up there, alive in that spotlight. I saw you in a whole different light. And even though I knew I shouldn’t, all I wanted to do was kiss you. I don’t know if I was being selfish, or if I thought it would help you move on. But when we ran out in the rain, I had an excuse. So you see, the kiss . . . it was real. I just used your list as a way to justify it.”
“You . . . wanted to kiss me?” I ask, feeling excited and confused.
He laughs. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just that you’re you and I’m . . . me. You can have any girl you want and I have to pretend to be someone else just to get a guy to notice me.”
He shakes his head at himself. “Maybe you’ve had such bad luck because you’ve never let someone see the real you.”
“I’ve never had much luck with the real me,” I mumble.
He sits back lazily and shrugs. “You’ve always had my interest,” he says with a smirk.
I sit back too, playfully shoving my shoulder against his. “Yeah, but you’re a weirdo,” I say, wondering if he meant he’s interested in me as a person or as something more—like a girlfriend? He did say he