Delicate (21 page)

“I have gym tonight.” I stare at my sweater while I zip it up and down repeatedly, trying to distract myself and keep my nerves from taking over.

“After that?” he presses. “Since we agreed to be friends and all.”

Is he challenging me? See
ing
if I have the nerve to actually hang out with him. Trying to get me to prove that we’re really friends?

“I don’t have anything after that. Why, what’s up?”

He smiles
over the fact
that I’ve accepted his dare.

“Nothing major. I just have a little something for you. Think you can you stop by on your way home from gym?” The confidence has returned to his voice now.

“Something for me?” I ask, willing my heart not to beat out of my chest.

“Just a little congrats gift.” He holds the door to our next class open for me.

“You so didn’t have to do that,” I say. My cheeks are scorching little balls of molten lava.

No one has ever bought me a gift for
losing
a meet.

“I know I didn’t
have
to, I wanted to. So, you’ll stop by?”

Like I could even refuse a smile like that.

I nod in response as I take my seat.

*******

I pull in the large circular driveway at Grant’s house with the same nerves I had the first time I c
a
me here. I check my makeup in the mirror on my visor once more, then pin my bangs back neatly in a tiny braid along the front of my face
, a
ll the while, questioning why I
’m
bothering.

I walk slowly up the large steps that lead to the front door. Something glowing catches my eye. On each side of every step there are little green, glowing tubes. What in the world? I bend down and pick one up. Glow sticks. Like the kind that you get at Halloween, or from amusement parks at night. I stand there holding the tube, completely puzzled as to why they are lining the walkway, when the front door swings open.

Grant stands in the massive doorway,
and
a coy smirk decorates his face.

“Hi there,” he greets me.

“What’s with the glow sticks?” I ask.

His small smirk stretches into a large, amused grin.

“Well, with your track record on stairs, and it being dark… I figured I’d help you out,” he says with a wink.

“These are for my benefit?” My brows pinch together.

“Well, yeah. I figured flares would have been just a little over the top,” he says with a laugh. He runs his fingers through his thick hair. He’s so ridiculously handsome. Especially when you throw in that deep, genuine laugh.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes tonight?” I say, now laughing with him. I have to admit, it is clever, even if it
’
s at my expense.

“Well, you are awfully delicate,” he says. His tone is gentle and serious now. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should grab something to eat first?”

“Um, sure.” I wasn’t expecting dinner.

He leads me to the garage and opens the passenger door to his car for me. I sink into the comfortable leather seat. Grant slides sinuously into the driver’s seat and backs the car out of the driveway.

“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” He’s cheerful and relaxed. It’s such a nice change.

I shake my head. “No, I’m too indecisive. You pick.”

He nods.

“Are you glad school’s almost over?” I ask.

“Eh, it depends,” he answers cryptically. He turns the car off of the interstate now and I feel a little pang of anxiety when I realize we’re staying close to town. What if we’re seen out together?

“Depends on what?”

“Well, are you going to be allowed to see me over the summer? Or do I have to hope that we have a class together next year before I see you again?” he has a smirk on his face, but for once, I don’t think it’s real.

“That’s not fair.” I’m suddenly uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Maybe. But it’s a legitimate question.”

“Trevor
isn’t
a bad guy, Grant. He’s just stressed. He’s got a lot on his plate with lacrosse and college, and the show. He just doesn’t like sharing me, I guess. But, for your information, I plan on telling him that you and I are still friends this weekend,” I inform him smugly. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as I thought it would.

“Maybe you should let me be there when you break the news to him,” Grant says. His expression is serious. Maybe even a little pained.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I crack a smile to lighten the mood. He doesn’t reciprocate. I nudge his right hand that rests on the center console with mine, hoping it’ll make him smile. He clutches my hand in his for a split second,
squeezing it tenderly before letting go. Even though his hand is warm, his touch still immediately gives me goose bumps. We pull into a parking space, and
,
though I know where we are, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Because I’ve never been anywhere with Grant. Alone.

Marietta Square. But at a far different place than I’d been with Trevor. Grant’s taken me to a laid-back pizza place. I snicker to myself at the difference
between
Trevor and Grant’s preferences. Except for one thing. Me.

“Is this okay?” Grant asks.

“This is perfect. I haven’t had pizza in…I don’t even remember when the last time was.” It’s not exactly an ‘approved’ food while training.

Grant’s hand rests protectively on the small of my back as we cross the parking lot, and when he opens the door, he pauses to let me pass first.

It’s an old-fashioned pizza joint
, w
ith checkered table cloths, and the best white pizza I’ve ever tasted. It’s comfortable. As is the company.

“Are you ready for your Econ final? It looks like it’s going to be killer,” he
says
.

I stretch my short legs out onto the bench that he’s sitting on and smile at the casualness of it all.

“I think so. I actually really like that class.”

“What do you have planned this weekend?”

“It’s my little sister, Maisy’s birthday. She’s having a slumber party, so guess who is in charge of that?” I grin. I conveniently leave out the part about staying the night with Trevor Friday and I feel like a liar for it. “How about you?”

“Not much. My mom will be back in town.”

His mom. My producer.

“Don’t let it be weird, Syd,” he says. “She’s got a party planned.”

I nod back at him. “What’s the occasion?”

He glances away, which strikes me as odd. He always looks me in the eye. Always.

“I’m not sure.”

I’m certain there’s more to it, but I don’t want to spoil the mood. But with every smile
,
e
very wink
,
e
very breeze of his fingers on mine, I’m more and more
conscious
of how much I need to be honest with Trevor. If I tell Trevor about my friendship with Grant, and he still forbids me to spend time with him, I’m not sure if I can do it. The peacefulness and comfort I feel w
hen
I’m with Grant is almost addictive.

When we get back to his house, Julie is busy putting up groceries.

“Hi Julie,” I greet her.

“Hey, Sydney. Good to see you around here again. Did you guys go out for a birthday dinner?”
S
he smiles at Grant.

“Birthday?” I take a minute to process what she’s said. “It’s your birthday?”

Grant runs his hand through his hair and laughs. It’s stiff and uncomfortable. The awkwardness in the restaurant makes so much more sense now. Wow. He apparently enjoys attention even less than I do.

“Nice, Jules,” he says.

Julie shrugs, closes the refrigerator
,
and walks quickly out of the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Because it doesn’t really matter.”

“Of course it does! Argh! I feel like such a jerk! You just bought
me
dinner on
your
birthday!”

“Come on upstairs
.
I’ve got something for you, remember?” he says. He grabs my hand and leads me out of the kitchen. His long fingers intertwine with mine in that perfect way that makes
me
never want to let go. But I have to.

“Oh yes, presents too. That’s just perfect.”

He stops halfway up the stairs and turns to me. He presses his index finger to my lips.

“Stop it, Sydney. Don’t try to find something else in the world to feel bad about. Just come upstairs. Please.”

I fold my arms across my chest and push out a pouty lip in defeat.

“Just humor me,” he murmurs irresistibly.

“Well, happy birthday, anyway,” I say. I uncross my arms and follow him up the large staircase.

Once inside his room, I plop down onto the comfy sofa. He smiles at me approvingly, pleased by my level of comfort in his space.

“Thanks for going out with me tonight,” Grant says. He pulls open one of his desk drawers.

“Thanks for spending your birthday with me.”

He sits next to me on the sofa. It’s wildly inappropriate how good it feels to be this close to him.

“I spent my birthday exactly how I want
ed
to.”

I can feel his warm breath on my face. I look at him. At his perfectly, unruly hair
, a
total contradiction, just like our entire relationship. At the small, brown, braided necklace he always wears. At the collar of his brown t-shirt under his white button
-
up. I look everywhere but his eyes.  I know that if I meet his gaze
, I
will surely lose what little self control I have. I’ll end up making a fool out of myself.

Without a word, he lightly places a small box on my lap. It’s about the size of a book, wrapped neatly in crisp, navy paper and a dainty silver ribbon. I hope it’s a book. Something simple and impersonal. I can handle a book.

“You really shouldn’t have done this. I don’t deserve it,” I say.

“Yes
,
you do. Besides, I told you, I wanted to. I hope you like it.”