chapter 38 - you and me

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Talia:

"Why are we at our old elementary school?"

My question doesn't spark any verbal answer, only Grayson's exit from the interior of the car. I'm left sitting in my seat, fidgeting with my fingers—a nervous habit that I just remembered I have. The passenger's side door swings open and he holds out his hand to help me out. I could decide to be petty and refuse his help due to him not answering, but his vacant expression stops me from doing so. His hand is clammy when I clasp it, something that makes me even more nervous. It's obvious he is nervous about something, too.

I want to ask my question again, but Grayson then begins leading us down a path around the school. It takes shuffling through my memories to remember this is the way to the playground where I spent every recess as a kid.

A shiver runs down my arms from being exposed to the night's cool temperatures. As if that's the only possible thing for Grayson to react to, he shrugs off his suit's jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The heat from the clothing helps immediately, and I can't help but notice how his scent that still clings to the jacket reduces my nerves. I also can't help but notice how his white dress shirt clings to his muscled frame.

"Thank you," I say, looking up at him.

We stop in front of the playground's swing set and he leans forward to kiss my forehead. Again, there is no verbal response. I melt into him, despite the pressing urges to ask every single blossoming question on my mind.

Why are we here?

Why are you being so distant?

Why won't you tell me why I'm different from everyone else?

"Sit over here," he finally says, his voice deep, demanding, and delicate—all at the same time.

He guides me by the small of my back to the swing second from the left. Once I'm safely seated, he hesitantly walks away from me after blowing out a heavy breath, which makes me want to hold and comfort him because of how troubled he sounds. It takes everything in me to remain seated and not chase after him to do just that.

Grayson walks into the field adjacent to the playground, searching for something. He squats down and finds what he was looking for.

Another memory sparks in my mind from when I was younger. In that field I would run around with my friends, and would constantly stop to stare at all of the scattered wildflowers. I liked to pick and hog them, creating my own personal bouquet. I hated sharing.

My boyfriend walks back, and I watch him the whole way until he's right in front of me. I hold the chains of the swing and rock back-and-forth, tilting my head up, awaiting a much needed explanation.

He holds out a flower. A daisy to be exact.

When my body doesn't respond in any way, he pushes the flower closer to me. "Here," he says.

Confusion washes over me as I accept the flower from him. He must notice my expression based on the way he frowns. I think about asking a question, but then he speaks.

"This is where we met."

Grayson looks around and gestures to the area. I only feel more confused, mainly because I can't seem to remember us meeting. I want to remember the time I first saw him, I really do—but I can't.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I look at the way they shift around beneath the fabric, unable to keep still. A dim yellow light shines on him from the lamppost, casting dark shadows across his features. "I sat on the swings the first day of kindergarten, looking around at everyone and how they all managed to have friends except for me. No one seemed to care I was alone."

His throat bobs as he swallows a breath. My heart picks up.

"But then you noticed me. You saw me here, all alone, and said straight to my face, "Do you have no friends, or something?" I thought you were asking it to be rude, but you were so excited to ask that question. That wasn't the first thing I noticed when I saw you. It was your eyes that caught me off guard, paired with a matching green dress, speckled with gold."

My mouth opens slightly from hearing everything Grayson could remember that I couldn't. I want to remember more than I've ever wanted anything, just so I can understand the story better. The only thing I can seem to remember is that dress.

"You ran away into that field," he continues, pointing to the space he picked the flower from, "after I answered no to your question. You came back and officially introduced yourself to me, handed me a daisy, and became my first friend."

Pieces fall into place. On the ride to New York City, Grayson told me how he moved to Virginia from Vermont in kindergarten and met someone. He told me they were his first friend and changed a lot for him. I changed a lot for him. It was me. That time on the bus he was blatantly sharing how we met, and all I did was ask him if they—if we were still friends. He only said yes and let me continue thinking it was someone else. He was probably disappointed I couldn't realize it was me he was talking about.

"Grayson, I—Why are you telling me this?" I ask, now confused beyond belief.

What makes me so different? Is what I really want to ask.

He steps closer and squats down in front of me, forcing me to look down as he stares up. His eyes appear sad while he takes my hand to hold.

"That day, your dress, your kindness—everything about you, made you feel important to me, like you were connected to my soul. Talia..."

He takes a deep breath, and it's then I realize how quickly his chest is moving up and down. Acting on instinct, I reach out my hand and place it over his heart to feel it's racing beat. His hand holds the back of mine and keeps it there against his heart. In the ten second pause of him speaking, the beat evens out. He keeps my hand there.

"For the past thirteen years I have been driven insane by you. And I have no fucking clue how at five years old, I could have known you were meant to be a piece of my life, but I did. You invaded my thoughts constantly. You still do, even when I have you."

Grayson's eyes don't leave mine after he ends his confession. My whole chest constricts, as if a heavy weight has been dropped on it. In some metaphorical way, one has.

"This is why I'm different," I say out loud by accident. It's more of a statement to myself than anything.

He nods. "I never dated or hooked-up with those girls out of pure interest or wanting to be a player. When I entered high school, I thought they would distract me from you..."

"You told me you ended things with those girls after you thought you forgot something," I interrupt. My eyes are wide. My mind tries to absorb all of this information.

I met Grayson on the first day of kindergarten.

He noticed my eyes and dress, and decided then and there that I was important to him.

He has spent the past thirteen years thinking about me and that day.

I knew nothing.

"I didn't tell you the full truth." He squeezes my hand and looks down at my lap. "I ended those relationships when I remembered you. Sometimes I would see you smiling in the hallway and think about how great it would feel to make you happy. The little things you did caused everything to come rushing back to me. I felt guilty being with someone I wasn't meant to be with. They weren't you, and that was the problem. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about how stupid I was to use those girls as a distraction and earn that reputation at school."

Grayson looks up at me again, and all of his genuine regret illuminates his eyes.

And all of his care for me, actions for me, pain for me, slaps me straight across the face.

I abruptly stand from the swing and walk a few paces away from him, needing some air. Space, really, considering we're already outside. I hear his movement behind me, but not the sound of wood chips crushing beneath his feet, meaning he's staying where he is. He's forcing himself to keep distant from me. He has practice with that, I think.

I take a breath. Then another one.

This whole time—all thirteen years—Grayson has felt a connection to me that he couldn't explain. He kept everything to himself. He kept himself away, and allowed me to forget everything about him while he tortured himself with the idea of me—of us.

Grayson was waiting for us.

My head whirls and I turn around to look at him, thoughts pulling out of thin air.

"I dated Carter," I breathe out. The pained expression on his face nearly knocks me off of my feet. His hand clenches and unclenches in a fist. "You were friends with him while we dated. Y-you had to watch us be together. You had to watch us do all of the relationship things while you felt this for me."

"I tried not to watch," he says. Tears sting at the back of my eyes and he steps closer to me, probably noticing my sadness. All of it is sadness for him. "Whenever I could, I would leave as soon as you joined the group with him. I didn't want to interfere, because you looked happy in the beginning, and I didn't want to ruin that for you."

"But then Carter became Carter," he continues. "He started controlling you and said things that made me want to hurt him."

More things click into place.

The day after I broke up with Carter, he walked into school with a black-eye. All he did was sneer at me, as if I were the cause of his injury. I guess in some way, I was.

"You were the one to give him the black-eye after we broke up," I state.

He nods. "The whole group was at Jake's house and Carter stormed in all upset. He told us you broke up with him and then called you a stupid bitch."

I wince at the words, remembering how they felt when I told him I didn't want to be with him anymore. He must have repeated the words to that whole group.

"I exploded and punched him without a second thought. Jake and Rowan had to pull me off of him, even though they also wanted me to beat him into the ground. The three of us stopped being friends with him after that. I was the reason why our group split into two."

A tear finally slides down my cheek, and Grayson now stands in front of me, wiping it away before it falls. "Carter mentioned how you had a problem with him and I being together, and I never picked up on it," I say in a whisper.

"I distanced myself from you and kept my problems to myself. There was no real way you could have known, daisy," he states.

I nearly sob when he says his nickname for me. "I gave you a daisy when you first met me. This whole time I thought you were just calling me that because you gave me that flower on our first date." I hold up my wrist where my corsage is, full of daisies. By now, my breathing is at a rapid pace. "Grayson...oh, my God. I feel so stupid."

He brushes aside another stray tear. "You're not stupid—"

I step away from him, but regret it when his face constricts with pain. I gesture to my dress. "You wanted me to wear a green dress. Because...because—"

"Because it's the color of your eyes," he finishes for me. "Because it makes you happy. Because it reminds me of the day I met you and everything changed. Because it's the color I think of when I think of you."

Each one of his words pierce my heart.

"What made you change? Why did you decide to stop keeping yourself distant from me?" I desperately ask.

"It was the day you cut your hand on glass and I saw you in the hallway. When my water bottle dropped on the ground and spilt everywhere, you began laughing. For a long time I had wondered what I would be like to make you happy, and when I finally did that day—even if it was only because I made a fool of myself—I wanted to keep doing it. So I allowed you to get closer to me, and me to you. And the universe suddenly began working in my favor."

I kick my foot in the wood chips. "And now we're here."

"And now we're hear," he echos. "Everything I said is why you're different for me. Why I will never risk letting you go. I forgot that Cassie approached me a year ago, asking for a night with me. It was because of you that I refused her. I knew you were friends, so I didn't want to put myself in a situation that would hurt you. You were also the reason why I brought Jessica home after I found her drunk at a party. I didn't want you to be hurt if something happened to her."

I wipe a tear from my face. Everything I'm hearing makes so much sense. Grayson closes the gap between us and takes my hands in his. Our bodies press against each other. He kisses my knuckles and adds:

"I never knew how perfect and right it would feel to be with you like this. I had always thought I was crazy for becoming infatuated with you. But if being crazy is what it took for us to get to this moment, then I couldn't give a less of a fuck."

I release a shuttering breath. "I thought I was crazy, too. I thought I was crazy for wanting to spend so much time with you, for wanting to kiss you, for wanting you to speak to me endlessly."

I lift my head to look at him and give him a small smile. To show him that I'm happy, just as he has always wished for me to be with him.

"I'm happy, Grayson," I reiterate. "I'm so happy when I'm with you."

Then, I say the three words I've been meaning to say for the past week:

"I love you."

I'm barely given a moment to breathe after speaking before Grayson crashes his lips into mine, kissing me with more passion than he has ever allowed himself. All restraints are gone. All secrets are exposed. Everything has come together, and this one kiss seals the deal.

His lips push further and his tongue parts my tongue to slip into my mouth. Grayson trails his hand to my waist to hold me in place, which is much needed when I feel like I'm falling. I tangle my fingers in his hair and arch into him as I suck on his lower lip. A deep growl emits from his throat as a response. His sucks my own bottom lips to return the favor, then dances his tongue with mine. The man I love pulls away from my lips and rests his forehead on mine. Both of us are out of breath.

Our eyes open and take a needed moment to look at each other in wonder. A smile spreads across his mouth, and a short laugh sounds.

"Thirteen years of being captivated by you," he says, almost to himself. "And you beat me to it."

My own smile shows.

"I love you, Talia." He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "I'll thank the universe everyday for you, and spend the rest of my life reminding you of my love."

"You and me," I say, relishing the thought.

Grayson kisses my smiling lips. "Us."

If it is possible, our next kiss is even more electric than the last. It leaves us feeling complete, kissing where we first met all of those years ago. A full circle.

"Spend the night with me," I whisper after my lips become swollen beyond belief.

He kisses the spot below my ear. "Anything for you."

Even though we make the effort to leave, we remain in each other's embrace for a few minutes longer. I breathe in his scent as he breathes in mine. Two people in love—that's what we are.

This time, as we make a new memory at this playground, I promise myself that it is not one I will forget as I did with the last.

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I may or may not have cried while writing this :')

Qotd: what is your favorite kind of flower?

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