chapter 22 - ____ and tell

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Grayson:

"So this is where Grayson Summers lives."

I turn in my seat after cutting off my car's engine to look at Talia. Her addicting eyes flit across my house, examining everything the building presents.

I've brought girls to my house before, never really caring about what they saw or what they had to say about it's location or size—shitty and small. Now I care. Now I care what Talia thinks. I want to know if she too thinks it's in a shitty location, or if she thinks it's too small for a family of—mostly—six. She would never tell me this—then again, no one ever would—but I know the idea is there. It's always there.

"This is it," I say with a shrug, unbuckling myself from the seat. Talia follows my action and does the same.

Her hair blows in the wind when she climbs out of the car, similarly to the way it did last Friday night. This time, she pushes it aside herself, not needing my helping hands. I almost kissed her that night. I would have if I didn't hesitate. I think she would have kissed me back, too. Hopefully.

I had a hard time sleeping that night. Staring up at my bedroom ceiling, I could only think about her lips on mine. Her fingers would be tangled around my neck and snaked through my hair. Her body would be curved into mine, pressing against my chest. And then, when we would have pulled apart, I would have seen her lips full and red, a heavy breath blowing through them. My lips would have looked the same. It would have been perfect.

But it never happened. And now, all I can think about is what would change if it did.

Would we avoid each other? Would we stop being friends? Would we kiss again and again until we got sick of the taste? I would never get sick of it, knowing that once I taste her, I will be addicted forever.

"Ice cream?" Talia asks, forcing me out of my day dream. Her face is bright when I look at it, which I know is only because she's excited for eating ice cream in the morning, and not being with me.

Tough.

"Yeah," I say with a nod.

I lead her up the stairs to my front door, grabbing the key and inserting inside the lock. The door is usually jammed, so I turn my body and shove open the door with my shoulder.

We walk into the kitchen and Talia now examines the inside of my house. There's not a whole lot to look at. The kitchen and living room are attached, a line running through where the carpet meets the tile. The tan couch in the living room has a few mysterious stains on it, but other than that, the house is fairly clean. At least I have that going for me.

I pull open the freezer drawer and am greeted by four tubs of ice cream. Talia leans over and peers inside next to me.

"That's a lot of ice cream," she says with a quick laugh. "Why do some of them say 'property of Viv?'"

I reach forward and grab the container of peanut butter cup ice cream. Sure enough, Vivian has left her mark in blue colored sharpie on the lid. "My sister thinks that she owns it. It's really for everyone, so you can pick which one you want."

Talia laughs again, a sound I'm still trying not to freak out at every time I hear. She reaches into the freezer, grabs the strawberry ice cream, and sets it next to mine.

"And you have three sisters, right?" she asks, looking up at me with those eyes. I almost grab the blade of a knife instead of a scooper from being distracted. I should get her a blindfold. That sounded...dirty. Would she be into that? Actually, I'm not going to answer.

"Mhm," I respond. I plop two massive chunks of ice cream into each one of our bowls. "Sophie, Vivian, and Katie—all equally annoying."

"I think sisters are annoying by design," she comments, which I fully agree to.

I open another drawer and pick up my favorite spoon, dropping it in Talia's bowl of strawberry ice cream. I grab up another and place it in my own. I slide over our bowls in front of the counter's stools for us to sit at. Talia takes the seat on the left, and I notice how close the two chairs are. She doesn't push them apart an further, but looks at me and smiles. Fine by me.

"Thanks for the free ice cream," she says, her whole face glowing with joy.

I would feed her all of the fucking ice cream in the world if she would always look at me like that. Like she couldn't be happier to be with me.

"You're welcome, Talia," I reply, my voice low and smooth. Pink rushes to her cheeks as she scoops up a large spoonful of her dessert. Cute.

"Tell me more about your family," Talia says after a few minutes of silently eating.

No one ever asks about my family beside Rowan or Jake. I swirl some of the melted ice cream around in my bowl. I could tell her the truth: my whole family is a fucking mess because my dad was unlucky enough to get a horrible illness, sending all of us in an emotion spiral. Or, the better option, I could just share the positives. This is difficult, because I really don't know which path to take. I want her to know more about me, I just don't want to make her upset. Or force her to overthink, which I know she does enough of.

"Well," I begin after shoving a quick spoonful of dessert in my mouth to ease my worries. Talia's eyes are on me as if I'm the most important thing in this room. Don't panic, Grayson. "Sophie's the oldest. She's twenty-eight and lives closer to Washington as a newspaper editor."

Her eyes are still on me as I continue, listening intently.

"Then there's Vivian. She's twenty-six and lives near Richmond with her husband, Daniel. She's a public accountant and is pregnant with their first child. That's why everything is labeled. Katie's the youngest at twenty, and goes to the county's community college. She's home a lot. And yeah, those are my sisters."

She pushes around a remaining chunk of ice cream around in her bowl. I know she wants to ask it.

"And your parents?" She asks, looking up at me again.

It's at that moment I realize she could squeeze any ounce of information out if she just stared at me with those eyes.

"My mom works as a manager at a grocery store. She...works really hard." I take a deep breath. "My dad lost his job as a car mechanic two years ago. He's been in and out of the hospital for an illness that takes a lot out of him—"

Talia frowns and places a hand on top of my clenched fist. I let her hold on. "Grayson...you don't have to—"

"He's the reason I have that car. He cheaply bought it from some rich guy at his workplace for my sixteenth birthday. It's an older model than you might think. A month after he was diagnosed, I told him I wanted to quit basketball to spend more time with him. My dad bought the car, shoved it in my face, and said if I quit, he would give the car to one of my sisters instead of me. He made me promise to never sell the car."

Her thumb rubs against my hand, similar to what I would do to her. I like it. Talia swivels in her seat to face me. Her smile reappears, this time only smaller. "Thank you for sharing."

You're ridiculously easy to talk to, I want to say. I decide on something different, just nodding to her words.

She stares into her ice cream bowl and I know she's overthinking. Her smile slowly slants into a soft frown, one that someone wouldn't be able to notice unless they spent time with her. A worried feeling rushes through me. This is exactly what I didn't want happening.

"Hey, don't think about it that much," I say, leaning my head forward to get a closer look at her face. "I'm happy, see?"

I force a smile across my face, which probably looks completely unnatural and unconvincing. Barley happy.

She lifts her head up and gives me a your-smile-is-full-of-bullshit look. It doesn't last long before a smile washes over her lips. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just know I'm around."

"I'll know where to find you," I say, the corners of my lips quirking upwards. Did that sound creepy? I hope not.

Talia shoves the final spoonful of her dessert into her mouth, and I try not to focus too much on the way she licks the spoon to clean it off. Control—it is a very hard thing to do around her. I wonder if her mouth would tastes like strawberries right now. Probably.

She abruptly jumps off of the stool and folds her arms in front of her. "Can I see your room?"

One of my eyebrows shoots upwards questioningly. My room? Let me take you on a date first, Talia. Then we'll talk. Or make-out, and whatever.

"You want to see my room?" I ask, pushing my empty bowl away from the edge of the counter. I stand up, pick up our two dishes, and drop them into the already crowded sink. I think I was supposed to wash those.

"Well, yeah," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing. "You got to see mine. Twice, might I add. It's only fair that I get to see yours."

"Mhm," I hum, filling our dishes with warm water to soak. She makes an excellent point. "I—"

"And I want to know all of your secrets," she adds quickly. I smile at her ridiculousness. Talia smiles back. "So I can blackmail you."

"Ah, I see. I feel like refusing now that I know your motives," I say, playing along with her joke, just so I can hear her laugh.

Talia laughs.

Mission accomplished.

"Please," she begs. She's dangerous when she makes her voice sound like that. When she makes her eyes look up at me. When she literally just exists.

I roll my eyes, pretending as if she has defeated my entire effort to keep her out of my room. There was no effort to begin with. I hold my hands up in mock surrender. "Fine."

Talia claps her hands together like a little child that was just told they won a bucket full of candy. To be perfectly honest, I believe she would react the same if I gave her that.

I lead her down the short hallway and turn at the first right into my room. Holding the door for her to step through, I carefully watch as she turns in a circle to examine its contents. Talia stops in front of my bookshelf.

"That's a lot of books," she says, pointing and crouching down to get a better look. She kneels in front of it and stares at the books through a curious lens.

I shift my head to observe her, just as she does with my books. Hesitantly, I step forward and sit down next to her, leaning my back against my closet door adjacent to the shelf. I smile to myself at the way she tilts her head to read the titles. "Yeah, I like to read."

"Really?" She whips her head suddenly at my words, clearly surprised at them emitting from my mouth. I don't take offense to it. There's still a lot of things that I want to share with her.

I nod my head. "Don't blackmail me, though."

She bites her lip to stifle a laugh. I wish I could reach over and release it from her teeth so I could hear her laugh fill up the space. She might think I'm weird if I did that.

"This one has been read a lot," Talia says. She pulls of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis off of the shelf. Very delicately, she flips through its pages, all yellowed with age. The paperback copy has loose binding and the edges of the pages bend in weird directions. She holds it up in front of me.

"My mom read that to me when I was younger," I say, reaching my hand out for her to pass the book to me. "I think it's what got me into reading. Every once in while I read it again just so I can remember the feeling. Nostalgic, I guess."

Talia stares at the book in my hand and I return it for her to place back on the shelf. She keeps it in her lap and runs her fingers along the cover. "That's really cool. I've only ever seen the movie. I've never read it."

"Take it."

"What?" Talia asks in surprise. She looks at me with an open mouth.

I gesture to the book. "Take it and read it. Tell me what you think. You can return it afterwards."

"I don't want to risk ruining something so imp—"

"It's already beat up. And I want you to read it. So, take it."

She smiles softly and gently sets the book beside her. "Thanks."

I smile at her carefulness. It's beyond obvious she doesn't want to destroy the book. My heart beats faster at the thought of her caring about such a thing. I also feel the need to keep sharing all of my life's secrets with her.

"I want to be an English teacher or professor after I'm done with the whole basketball thing," I say, and her ears perk up at my information.

"I thought basketball was it for you. Like, your thing," she responds, curiously looking at me.

I shrug. "Maybe I'll try going pro after college, but I'm not really sure. I might want a break."

Truth: I'm scared my dad will die and I won't be able to continue something so deeply connected to him. I might as well have a backup plan, nevermind how morbid.

Talia looks back at the shelf. "This really is good blackmail, by the way."

"You would never," I threateningly tease, smiling at her.

"You underestimate me, Grayson. I could end your whole reputation with the headline: Grayson Summers is a Book Nerd."

I lift my head back and laugh towards the ceiling. I gently shove her away from me and she dramatically falls over giggling. I roll my eyes. "Says the valedictorian," I rebut.

"Hush," Talia states. She rolls to her side on the floor and her laughing pauses. Her arm extends to something next to the shelf, pulling out a larger, leather bound book. "Hey, last year's yearbook."

I forgot that was in here. I meant to return it to the shelf in the living room.

She opens the yearbook with eager eyes, scanning the old photos. I push closer until I'm right beside her, peering at its pages also. Perhaps I'm a little too close. Perhaps it's the perfect distance. Perhaps I don't give a shit because her intoxicating scent already attacks my nose: vanilla.

I watch her smile and react to each photo, as if it's the most exciting thing in the world. She turns to the Halloween section and points at a group photo.

"Quinn, Cas, and I were the three blind mice that year," Talia says. She turns her head to look at me, only to realize I'm already staring at her. At the way she reacts to everything, no matter how little. She glances back to the page, a blush rising across her cheeks. "They argued for an hour over whether the three blind mice were from a fairy tale or Shrek."

She laughs at the memory and I smile next to her. Her smile wavers for a second as she traces the boarder of the photo.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

Talia shakes her head out of her trance. "Nothing."

It's obviously not nothing. But, I would never push her.

I flip the page this time for her, worried about whatever that photo is making her think.

"Prom," the title reads, and I suddenly regret turning the page. My eyes are immediately drawn to the group photo I searched for a few weeks ago. The one where I'm staring at Talia and not the camera.

"Hey," she exclaims, excitedly pointing to the picture. "There we are!"

God, I could kiss her.

My smile is lopsided as I once again look at her in the red dress.

"I hated that dress," she mumbles.

"I know," I say.

She looks up at me again, this time not shying away from how close we are. I'm thankful, really. Because I'm finally close enough to see the familiar gold flecks in her pale green eyes. "You do?"

"Mhm. Carter told us that he didn't like the green dress you picked out." Which was absolutely and incredibly stupid of him. "And he forced you to wear red. You weren't very happy that day. You didn't even smile that much. Only when you needed to for photos."

Talia's eyebrows scrunch together and her eyes narrow. She shakes her head and stares back at the photo, still oblivious to the fact I was staring straight at her when that moment was captured. "I'm surprised you even remembered that."

I remember a lot of things, Talia. Things that I sometimes wish I didn't remember, just so I would stop thinking about you long enough to fall asleep.

I nod my head as a response and am about to turn the page when a loud voice cuts through the air.

"Grayson William Summers, why the fuck aren't you at school?!"

Fuck. Sister number three is home from college.

I roll my eyes and groan as I stand up, ready to greet Katie before she sees Talia. Her loud footsteps echo through the hallway and I realize I'm too late.

"AHA! You're ditching, you little fuck!" Katie shouts. "I'm telling mom—"

Her train of thought is interrupted when she notices Talia on the floor, looking up at her with an amused grin.

"Oh...hi, Talia," she says gleefully.

Oh, my fucking God. I glare daggers into Katie's eyes. She catches my look and makes an apologetic look.

"Hi," Talia says, a little bit confused as to why my sister, whom she's never met, knows her by name. At least she doesn't question it.

Katie looks back at me, her anger returning. "So why aren't you at school, shithead."

Talia laughs at my sister's nickname for me. I don't like the idea of the two of them ganging up to bully me. It would be brutal.

"Because," I answer plainly.

"Is that it?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah."

A pause. "Okay. I have an essay to write, so don't bother me. Have fun on your little play-date."

I'm going to scream at her later.

Loudly, might I add.

Katie leaves the room with a short wave to Talia, which she politely returns back. I dig my nails into my palm.

"She's funny," Talia says with a laugh.

I smile at her, finding her giggles contagious. "Don't tell her that. It will go to her head and fuel her ego."

"I won't. Would it be alright if I stayed here a little longer?" Talia asks. "I don't really want to go home. I have homework to do and I'll stay out of your hair."

I agree immediately. Why on Earth would I turn down spending more time with her? Exactly. There is no reason.

I hand her my keys so she can get her backpack out of the car. She returns a minute later. I cleared off my desk for her, thinking she would find it more comfortable than sitting on the floor and hunched over her work. I lay on my bed, scribbling in a notebook while she studies for what feels like hours. How does she have that much work?

At around 1:00 PM, I exit by bedroom to make us lunch. While I'm cooking one of the few meals I know how to make—grilled cheese—Katie sits at the counter, giggling quietly and teasing me about my guest. I threaten her by telling her if she tells mom or Vivian, I'll dump all of the latter's pickles out of the jar and blame it on her. That shuts her up. Absolutely no one wants to deal with an irrational, hot-headed, pregnant Viv.

When the sun shows its first signs of setting, I hear Talia begin to pack up her notebooks and organize thousands of sheets of paper into her binder.

"I should probably go home," she says, checking her phone for the time. "It's already 5:30."

I don't want her to leave. I want to keep stealing glances at her, watching the way she bites her lip in concentration and flicks her pencil around in the air.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net