Rm W/a Vu (24 page)

“Should we grab a bite to eat before we find our seats?” Dad suggests.

We all decide that’s a good idea and head toward the concession. My parents stand in front of us, Mom’s arm still looped through Dad’s, and wait their turn. I’m looking up at the menu, trying to decide what I feel like having, when I feel Greyston’s body press up against my back. His arms wrap around my body, and he rests his chin on my shoulder, kissing my cheek before reading the menu boards too.

“I don’t know what I want,” I confess. “What’s good?”

“I’m a fan of the hotdogs,” he responds.

“Yeah?” He nods against my shoulder. “Okay then.”

Mom and Dad step away from the concession with their food; Mom opted for a slice of pizza, and Dad got a hamburger. When they turn around and see Greyston’s arms wrapped around me as we wait in line, they smile—yes, even Dad.

Greyston must notice too, because he gives me a gentle squeeze and kisses my cheek again before we step up to the cashier and order. We each get a hotdog and decide to share a soft drink. I flinch when I see the price of our food, but Greyston doesn’t, paying for it all with a smile before picking up our cardboard tray and leading the way to our seats.

There are already tons of people in their seats, and Dad seems like he’s losing his mind as we follow Greyston down the aisle. I can’t understand why; everything he says makes absolutely no sense to me because I don’t know a damn thing about football.

“You didn’t say the tickets were on the fifty-yard line, Greyston,” he says.

Chuckling, Greyston leads us down a row that’s about thirty rows back from the front one. “I had to keep a little mystery between us, Cam.”

While we finish eating, Dad and Greyston start talking football, and Mom and I try to keep up. I’m picking up bits and pieces—touchdowns, kickoffs, four downs—but I’m still feeling beyond lost. I mean, I understand some of it, but until I see it happening in front of me, I don’t know that I’ll fully grasp it. And even then I know I’ll have questions.

The game is set to start in less than a half-hour, and the crowd is simply buzzing. Looking around, I’m kind of astounded by the number of football jerseys in the stadium. It makes me want one. 

“Hey,” I say, placing my hand on Greyston’s knee. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He looks confused, standing when I stand and placing a hand on my waist. “Where are you going? Do you want me to come with you?”

I laugh, pressing my palm to his chest. “No, That’s okay. I’ll be right back. If I get lost, I’ll text you to come find me.”

Nodding, he leans in to give me a kiss and then lets me pass. On my way, I let my parents know I’ll be back and then head out of the seating area. I’m not sure where I have to go exactly, but there’s enough people milling about the area that I should be able to get directions.

I stop the first couple I see, and they gladly point me in the right direction. Thankfully, it’s not too far from where I came from, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble finding my way back.

When I reach the front of the line, I see that they have two different styles: one that’s mostly red, and another that’s mostly white with red sleeves. I mull it over for a couple of minutes before deciding on the white one. I thank the salesperson for basically robbing me blind, and then take my new jersey to the washroom so I can put it on.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see that it’s Greyston telling me kickoff is about to start.

I tap out a quick reply, telling him I’m on my way, and hit send. I quickly use the facilities, wash my hands, and then head back to my seat. I find the section easily enough and smile wide when Greyston’s eyes pop open upon seeing me.

“Aw, Jules, really?” Dad groans, clearly not satisfied with where my loyalties have fallen.

“Sorry, Pop,” I apologize, stepping around them to get to my seat and struggling with my balance along the way.

Greyston holds out his hand for me, and I take it to keep from falling into the row of people in front of us. Before letting me go, though, Greyston pulls me to him, his hand running over the fabric of my new shirt. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You like?”

A familiar grumble escapes him, exciting me. “Let’s just say I’m going to have a very difficult time concentrating on the game.”

I step up onto my tiptoes and kiss him before we take our seats. Once we’re settled, Greyston’s hand finds a home on my thigh as we wait for everything to begin. We rise from our seats when it’s time for the National Anthem, and I smile up at Greyston as everyone in the stadium sings along.

The game starts, and I have to admit, it’s pretty exciting. While I don’t get everything that’s going on, Greyston does a really good job at explaining things to me in a way I can understand. Dad is trying to ruffle Greyston’s feathers the entire game, especially when the Eagles score a touchdown that puts them ahead of the Cardinals.

The majority of the crowd is not happy about this, and I find myself momentarily worried. It’s especially worrying when halftime rolls around and the Cardinals are still down by seven. Since there’s nothing really going on, Mom and Dad excuse themselves, leaving Greyston and me alone for a bit.

“Are you having fun?” Greyston asks.

I nod emphatically. “I really am. It’s a little confusing, but I think I understand the basics.” I lean forward in my seat, taking Greyston’s hand and lacing my fingers with his. “Thanks for inviting us. It’s really great, and Dad’s having a blast.”

He pulls my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else, Juliette.”

I lean closer to him. “Well, that’s good, because I wouldn’t go to a football game with just anyone.”

Mom and Dad return from wherever they snuck off to—honestly, it’s best if I don’t even ask—and it looks like the game is about to get back underway. The second half of the game is interesting. The teams both seem to be doing well, but, much to Greyston’s dismay, the Eagles win the game. He’s a good sport, though, listening to Daddy relay the winning touchdown as we walk through the parking lot.

We stop at my mom’s SUV, and my dad turns to us. “Thanks for inviting us along, Greyston.”

“Anytime, Cam. I’m glad the two of you had a good time.” He shakes Dad’s hand and then turns to my mom to do the same.

Mom pushes his hand away and pulls him in for a hug instead. “You two have a good night, okay?”

“We will, Mom,” I tell her, hugging her and my dad next before telling them I’d talk to them later in the week. They climb into their vehicle, and Greyston and I head for his car so we can go home after what I can only describe as one of my top five favorite days.

So far.

Chapter 17

A
fter a spectacular weekend with Greyston and my parents, waking up on Monday morning seems kind of depressing. It’s almost like the weekend was a wonderful dream, and now I’m being thrust back into reality.

Feeling less than enthused to start my day, I turn my alarm clock off, crawl out of bed, and head to my bathroom to get ready. As I finish up and head back into my room, I pull the hem of my oversized sweater down to cover my shorts, and the neckline slips, exposing my shoulder. I expect to smell breakfast cooking as I hit the hall, but I’m shocked to see that Greyston is still in bed. Fast asleep.

Not sure yet if I enjoy this view more than him swimming, I lean against his door frame, cross my arms, and watch him for a minute. He appears deep in sleep still as I let my eyes roam over his peaceful face. His hair is even more messy than usual, but instead of wanting to run my fingers through it to tame it, I want to make it worse.

The minute I notice his breathing pattern change when he shifts to roll over, I back away from his room and proceed downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast. I find the kitchen a little quiet, so I flip the radio on before digging through the fridge for the ingredients to make omelets.

Dancing to the music, I crack the eggs into the bowl and whisk them before pouring them into my oiled frying pan. When I notice the top is cooked, I sprinkle some shredded cheddar on it and fold it over.

“Now this is a sight I could get used to in the mornings,” Greyston says from behind me, making me jump. He chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Laughing at myself, I remove the first omelet and pour the second one into the pan. “No, that’s okay. I either need to learn to not be so jumpy, or tie a bell around your neck.”

Greyston smiles, crosses the room until he’s standing right next to me, and tugs at the hem of my sweater.  “You know, I’m starting to think you’re running around here in next to nothing just to drive me crazy,” he says, grazing my bare thigh with the backs of his long fingers.

“And I’m starting to think you do
that
”—I nod my head in the direction of his hand on my leg—“to drive
me
crazy.”

His hand moves up a little farther, above the fabric of my shorts until he’s fingering the waistline of them. My abdomen quivers when his knuckle grazes the ticklish skin there as he dips a finger in and pulls me to him. My chest is pressed so firmly to him that he can probably feel my heart beating. He holds my gaze, eyes blazing, and I sigh when our lips barely touch.

“Greyston, our breakfast,” I whisper, raising my free hand and teasing the hairs at the nape of his neck. Though, if I’m being entirely honest, the longer we stay like this, the more focused I am on how his body feels when it’s pressed so close to mine than the stupid eggs.

Breakfast be damned.

He briefly presses his lips to mine before releasing my shorts. “You’re right.”

Regretting saying anything at all, I toss the spatula on the counter and grab his arms before he’s out of reach. “Nonononono,” I tell him, tugging him back to me and shaking my head. “I’m wrong. So wrong.”

Laughing, Greyston kisses my forehead and moves around me to pour a cup of coffee. “No, you’re not. I’d hate for you to be late for school because I wouldn’t let you leave the house.”

I pick up the discarded spatula, add cheese to the omelet, and fold it over. “I think you’re just being a bit of a tease,” I accuse playfully. “Building the anticipation between us.” I turn and point the spatula at him. “I’m on to you, Masters.”

He quirks a brow and gives me that devilish half-smirk. “Not yet.”

I suddenly feel like my legs might give out beneath me, but I refuse to let him see this. “Funny.” After dishing up the second omelet, I pick up both plates and head for the island. “Breakfast is ready.”

Over breakfast, I ask Greyston if he’s got a busy day. Apparently he doesn’t have to go into the office until this afternoon, so after I leave, he plans to go for his swim. “I’d have preferred to have gone while you were still home.” I eye him curiously. “It’s just I hate that I’ve robbed you of your little routine.”

My jaw drops. I’m stunned. “I…uh…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stammer, poking my eggs with my fork, refusing to meet his smug stare.

“Yeah, that almost sounded believable.”

I set my fork down and turn to him. I’m not going to try and deny that I’ve been watching him, because he knows just as well as I do that I’m guilty, but his accusation has me curious about something. “So, you’ve seen me up there, and yet you still thought I was into Toby?”

“I wasn’t certain what you were doing up there, to be honest…you very well could have been enjoying the desert view and fresh morning air,” he admits, smirking crookedly at me. “It wasn’t until we finally got everything out in the open that I finally put two and two together.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “If only the two of us could have mastered basic math a week ago before jumping to all of the wrong conclusions.”

Before I know what’s happening, Greyston pulls my chair toward him, the feet scraping loudly against the tile. His warm hands are on my thighs, moving down to my knees where he curls his fingers and lifts my legs, resting them on his own. It’s kind of awkward, but I don’t really mind since I’m only inches away from straddling him—which must be his newest form of torture.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A tingle begins to work its way up my legs as his hands move up and down my thighs, his fingers occasionally dipping
just
beneath the hem of my shorts before resurfacing. There’s a really good chance that my heart is going to give out at the rate it’s beating. “I think things might be better this way,” he says, his voice low and seductive, increasing my desire for him exponentially. “All of those nights spent wondering kind of…intensified everything. Don’t you think?”

I nod once. It’s not the most fluid movement given my brain is more focused on the fact that Greyston’s hands are still running up and down my legs. Warmth spreads through my body, starting where his hands are touching me and moving all throughout until it settles in the pit of my belly, igniting a flourish of butterfly activity. No one has ever made me feel half as alive as Greyston, and if he’s able to elicit this kind of response from me with only his hands…well, imagine the possibilities.