Page 5 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

I nod and attempt to get out of the passenger door, but he stops me before I can so he can get the door for me.

I remind myself for the millionth time that we are absolutely not on a date.

We walk inside and a waft of batter, syrup, and coffee hits us in the face.

There’s a jukebox in the corner playing Take It Easy by the Eagles, and the flooring is that classic diner black-and-white checkered tile.

Framed records cover the walls and the waitresses all wear their hair in curly updos with frilly uniforms topped with a white apron.

It feels like we walked straight into a time warp, and I kind of love that this is one of Grayson’s favorite places.

He leads me into one of the red vinyl booths and slides into the seat, and I do the same. His stare is almost too much as I adjust my jeans that are now stuck to the clingy material of the booth. Looking up at him to meet his eyes, I realize I have no idea what to say to him.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says finally.

I shrug, trying my best to play it off.

“Just… thinking.”

About how badly I want to lean across the table, kiss you, and tell you how obsessed I am with you.

“You okay?” he asks, voice dipping lower with concern.

I nod, barely. “Yeah. Just tired.”

A waitress approaches the table and pours each of us a cup of coffee, which I don’t like but can’t form the words to stop her. Grayson continues to look me directly in the eye. I don’t take my eyes off of him either. The feelings I have now are… strange.

Guilty pleasure.

As I’m lost in thoughts of how the hell I’m going to get through the rest of this interaction without saying something stupid, Grayson orders and gestures to me.

“The same,” I say, not hearing what he asked for or knowing if I’d even like it, breaking eye contact and finally meeting the dazed gaze of the waitress.

We eat in silence once the food comes, occasionally swapping glances, letting it sink in that we’re in each other’s presence after all this time.

I’m sure I’m coming off dazed and disinterested, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Even though it’s awkward, I’m still so interested that it’s probably a little unhealthy.

I want to ask him about Lily, about his life, about what he’s been up to for the last twelve years—anything to break the tension that’s settled between us.

But I struggle to find the words to ask without being overly invasive.

He’s married, and I have no business asking him anything about the life he’s lived that I haven’t been involved in.

“Oh, shit. Rylee has my bag.”

“I told our crew to get it out of your rental car and bring it to the house,” he tells me. “Brandon offered for you and Rylee to stay with us once he realized you two were staying in town. I’m sure that would’ve been the case anyway had Rylee told him you were both coming.”

My stomach drops again at the mention of me and Rylee staying at the band’s house.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, she probably didn’t say anything because we were supposed to be out of town right now. When we got the opportunity to play this pop-up, though, we knew we couldn’t turn it down.”

Fuck. Me.

I’ll be around Grayson throughout this entire trip.

There won’t be any relief—the guilty pleasure will be a constant for the entirety of the time I’m here.

Before I have too much time to dwell on that fact, Grayson pays the check. I don’t even have the chance to pay for my half before he stands up and asks me if I’m ready to leave. I nod and rise from my side of the booth.

We are absolutely not on a date. He probably still sees you as the annoying girl who lived across the street and used to basically stalk him.

Back in the car, we drive into the Palisades, winding through a neighborhood of luxurious homes.

The car ride is quiet—and not the comfortable quiet that comes with years of knowing someone and not having to say anything to communicate.

It’s the uncomfortable quiet that comes from not knowing what the other person is thinking, or what to say to cut the tension.

The kind of quiet that makes me wonder if I should really be staying here at all.

Is it too late for me to get that hotel room?

After what seems like an eternity, he pulls into the driveway of the biggest house in this neighborhood, tucked away at the end of the cul-de-sac.

It’s got a modern stucco exterior with a Spanish-style roof and what I’m assuming are some pretty incredible ocean views during the day.

I can hear the sound of the waves crashing in the dark, and it sends a chill down my spine.

Even at night, it’s one of the most gorgeous houses I’ve ever seen. Grayson pulls his car into the monstrosity of a garage and, once again, opens my door for me to lead me inside.

To no one’s surprise, it’s stunning, too—like something out of a luxury real estate magazine.

After a full house tour including the band's practice room, the incredible balconies, and the resort-style backyard with a pool and sauna, Grayson leads me down a hallway that he says houses most of the bedrooms.

“This is your room,” he says, gesturing to the door. “Mine is next door, if you need anything. I’m sure Rylee will be in Eric’s room across the hall when they get back from the bar.”

As I begin to reach for the door and retreat to get ready for bed and gather myself, Grayson hugs me again. I nestle my face into his shoulder, more conflicted than ever, but at the same time, never wanting to let him go. He pulls away and studies me again.

Why hasn’t he said anything about Lily yet?

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers, placing a lingering hand against my cheek and letting it trail down to my exposed collar bone.

“I know,” I say, reveling in the weight of his touch near my neck, wanting to wear his hand like a necklace but knowing I can’t cross that line.

And then, quieter: “Good night, Grayson.”

“Good night, beautiful.”