Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Henry

The sound of clanging and crashing stirred me from my sleep. For a moment, I panicked until I realized exactly what was the cause of the crashing. Or rather who.

I rubbed my eyes, and scraped my fingernails over my scruff, slowly ambling through my hallway to the kitchen. Sure enough, I found Grayson opening and closing cabinets, my kitchen in a little bit of disarray, but not as disheveled as the man in front of me.

His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his hair was a bit messy, no doubt from sleeping on the square pillows.

“What are you doing?” I inquired, my voice still slightly groggy from my abrupt awakening.

Grayson stopped his tirade, turning to me slowly, eyes appraising me as if I was the one who was daft.

“I can not find any espresso in this god forsaken place,” he said with poise, shaking his head as if it were quite obvious. “This house needs, espresso. I need—”

I casually opened the cabinet nearest to me, the slender one that didn’t fit much in it other than drink mixes and of course, coffee. I grabbed the brown paper bag of freshly ground morning roast that I’d purchased a few days ago.

I could feel Grayson’s eyes on me like a hawk. I casually set the bag down in front of him on the counter, meeting his gaze.

“What is this?” he asked, though he didn’t look at the coffee. Instead, his gaze was fixed on me, on my lips. I couldn’t help but smirk up at the towering man.

“Espresso.” I deadpanned.

“This—” Grayson said as he took the bag from my hands, opening it to sniff it and frowning. “This is store bought coffee.”

“Caffeine is caffeine, either you want it or—” I remarked as I snatched the bag back, heading over to the coffee machine.

“I suppose in a pinch, it will do.” Grayson mewled, almost as if I’d caused him a great deal of trauma by offering him a fresh, hot cup of coffee.

It didn’t take long for me to throw a pot together, and I continued on my morning routine, opening the fridge and gathering my supplies for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, bread...

“Do not feel as if you have to do this on my behalf,” Grayson said as I set the ingredients down, setting up my skillet and turning the burner on. I tossed some bacon in, letting it sizzle.

“Aren’t you hungover? Hungry?” I asked as I cracked the eggs into a second pan.

Grayson casually leaned against my island, crossing his arms. I could feel his gaze on me like a laser beam; hot, holding me in place.

“Please, I am not some amateur, Henry. I am a professional. I do not get hungover . Not anymore.”

“I don’t think that is the selling point you seem to think it is,” I said, realizing I sounded kind of like an asshole. I usually wasn’t so loose lipped around people, but Grayson didn’t feel like most people. It was far too easy to just say what was on my mind around him, and that was dangerous.

The last thing I wanted to do was piss him off, even if it was only because I didn’t want him running to his sister and complaining, and for the wedding itself to be awkward because I had slipped up and said something stupid.

“Yes, well, my selling points have not been a problem for most people,” he bit out, like a bratty child.

I don’t know why, but his attitude made my cock twitch, and a grin erupt on my face.

Maybe I need the coffee more than he does.

I turned the bacon once more as the coffee pot beeped. Naturally, I took my time, grabbing some mugs and setting them down, pouring the coffee while breakfast cooked.

“Cream?” I asked as I opened the fridge once more to grab my store french vanilla store brand creamer.

“Fuck...” I heard him curse, and I turned to look at him as he ran his hand over his face, shaking his head.

Maybe he still felt off from last night...

“You okay?” I asked as I set the bottle down.

Grayson nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, I just....”

“What, Jasper Springs Market ain’t good enough for you?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

Why the fuck did I just say that?

I never was this brash, this upfront with anyone!

Grayson flipped some dark hair out of his eyes, the motion drawing attention to his slender neck, his perfectly sinuous shoulders, his toned, pale arms.

“I mean... yes. To the cream. And two sugar cubes,” he said poignantly.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I opened the slender cabinet yet again, pulling out two slim cane sugar packets.

“Well, hopefully this will be good enough. I call it ‘deconstructed sugar cube’,” I said, flashing him a smirk as I passed him the packets.

He took them out of my fingers, his long ones brushing mine in transfer. His touch was soft, warm, and I liked it.

Stupidly, I wished I could hold onto it a little longer, but I knew I needed to put all those thoughts—about him, about me, and whatever weird tension had somehow built between us—out of my brain.

I hurriedly finished up with the coffee, sliding him his mug as I manned the stove. I tossed the bread in the toaster oven, and for a moment with everything going, I paused to take a sip of my coffee, noticing once again Grayson was staring at me.

“I should go,” he said, though he made no move to set down his mug. In fact, his hand gripped it tighter, and I could see the steam wafting in the air, contrasted by his shirt.

“You should eat something first. Can’t let you go on an empty stomach, after all.”

“If you insist,” he said, straightening his posture as if he was challenging me to a dual or something.

I gripped my own coffee, letting the warmth spread from my fingertips.

The toast popped up, breaking the odd tension, and I set my coffee down, gesturing for my guest to sit at the island, amidst the mess he’d made as he tore everything out of my cupboards looking for his beloved espresso.

“Order up,” I said as I plated his food.

Something passed between us as I stood beside him, only inches away. I set his plate in front of him, but his gaze held me still like I was truly the prey, and he was a vicious hunter.

My cock stood at attention, liking the heat of being on the spot as he pinned me there with his dark, amber gaze.

Bad idea, Henry.

Bad, bad fucking idea.

Just walk away now and no one gets hurt.

Especially you.

I swallowed harshly as I backed away, if only to break the spell that had formed between us. Maybe Grayson wasn’t the only one hungover.

Hungover on pretty rich boys who smell like heaven and look like a goddamn wet dream sitting in my kitchen.

“Thanks,” he said as I slid him a fork, going about to fixing my own meal.

We ate in silence. Awkward, charged silence. Thankfully, Grayson ate his breakfast and sucked down his coffee rather quickly, and before I’d even finished my own cup of coffee, he was walking toward the door.

“Well, this has been lovely and all, Henry, but I believe I have overstayed my welcome,” he said.

“Grayson, wait...” I said, feeling a bit like an asshole. I didn’t want him to stay, but I also didn’t want him to leave.

Grayson stopped just before the door, as I caught up to him.

“I just... don’t want things to be weird... between us,” I said, trying to articulate something I barely understood at the time.

He narrowed his gaze at me, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why would anything be weird?” he asked.

I closed my eyes, realizing how stupid I must have looked. I’d assumed maybe, just maybe, he remembered an inkling of what had happened, how he’d tried to kiss me, but assuming from his reaction, he didn’t.

Or he did, and he just didn’t care. Either way, I knew I was obsessing, and I just needed to let it go. I needed to let him go.

“Oh, uh, nothing, I just...” I sighed, giving up as I opened the door. “Do you need a ride?”

Grayson held up his car keys. “You drove my car here, remember? As I said, I have overstayed my welcome. You have been most hospitable, but I will not burden you further,” he said with a slight, polite smile.

I nodded in understanding. “Oh, yes, of course. Okay.”

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. A part of me, a sad, lonely part had actually wanted the excuse to drive him back, if only because for some reason, I liked being around the man.

Not to mention his leaving would mean the momentary excitement would dissipate, and I’d be back to my normal, boring life.

Punch in, punch out.

Go home, alone.

Maybe I really do need to get out more.

I held the door open for him and he stepped through, stopping halfway. The motion put us rather close together, close enough when he turned to me, I could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes. Feel his hot, bacon-scented breath on my face.

Instinctively, I leaned in closer, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. Like he was too hard to resist, and I knew I should.

“Goodbye, Grayson,” I said, my voice a dark, breathy whisper. My gaze fell from his sunset eyes to his pillowy, pouty lips.

“Goodbye, Henry,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a motion that made my damn cock throb.

Think unsexy thoughts, Henry.

And with that he just... left.

He left me standing halfway in the hall of my apartment complex, hot, hard, and wanting.

Some people in this life are just lucky, people like Grayson.

But I wasn’t a lucky boy.

I would never have the things I wanted, because what I wanted was well beyond my means, beyond my pay grade, beyond my reach.

And as I cleaned up the mess Grayson had left, I vowed to put him and all thoughts of him to rest, once and for all, for the sake of my own sanity.