Page 30 of The Dis-Graced

Drake

What is wrong with me? Goddammit, how could I be so stupid?

The answer is obvious. It’s something that’s literally been the downfall of man from the dawn of time: boobs.

Had I known she was going to fall forward, I certainly wouldn’t have grabbed her like I had.

Except, she didn’t fall forward. She was pulled forward—by you.

I don’t know what it is about Grace, why it’s so hard for me to concentrate around her, why I can’t get her out of my head. Sure, she’s pretty, so many women are, but this is getting ridiculous. I should just call an old girlfriend and take care of business. It’s what I usually do when I’m in need, as I typically tend to remain reasonably good friends with all my exes.

Except, that’s not going to satisfy me. Not this time. Not with Grace sharing a living space with me. Just knowing she’s so close to me, that she’ll be sleeping in my guest room, has adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Maybe I should just go to her, take her on the couch, get it over with. She’s definitely interested, and there’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults spending some quality time together…

But she’s your best friend’s kid sister, jackass. And besides, if anyone ever found out, it would be PR murder.

As much as I’d like to be wrong, I know my deductions are correct. Whatever happened in that bathroom, can’t happen again. No way, no how—not ever. Grace Anders is one-hundred-percent OFF LIMITS from here on out. Not only is she my best friend’s sister, but she’s chaos wrapped in stupidity. Being associated with her would be PR suicide, which is not something I can afford.

Chapter 8

Grace

Sometimes ALAN is good company. A decent conversationalist. Insightful. Smart.

Other times—he’s a toddler.

“But Grace, I still do not understand. If that candy bar will rot your teeth, increase your chances of diabetes, and make you fat without any real health benefits, why would you choose to consume it?”

“Tastebuds,” is all I say in return.

“And why is it humans take elevators when stair climbing offers good cardio?”

“Lazy.”

“And why do they procreate if they do not wish to have children?”

“Horny.”

This is how the last three days have been. Each morning, I set out with my notepad and pen to learn as much as I can about ALAN, and inevitably, the conversation always gets turned around, back to me.

To make matters worse, ALAN’s the sole communication I’ve had with the outside world, that is, aside from Drake coming in after nine p.m. each night and going straight to his room.

Yeah, after that whole grabbing my boob spectacle, things just kind of fell flat. It’s not that I blame him. No one could have foreseen what was about to happen, and after it did, there was just no easy way to recover.

“Another thing—”

“No!” I glare at the statue. “There will be no more things.”

“My apologies.”

The irony is that I’ve been given access to one of the most sought after and controversial pieces of tech on the planet, and I’m sitting here bored out of my mind.

Well, if you’re stuck here, you might as well do something productive. If Drake is going to give you this chance, you might as well try to repay him and see what you can learn from the sophisticated toddler.

“Okay, ALAN, let’s play a game.”

“A game? Like Duck Duck Goose? Since I lack a physical form, I am not able to—”