After a week on the crutches, I’m off the pain meds and get around well on my own… for the most part. The few times I’ve hit a crutch in a rogue doorway or loose chair haven't been all my fault.
This time one week ago, I considered Ryland a major douche nozzle. A big jerk who came around to enforce an outlandish set of arbitrary rules he created for the sole purpose of making my life miserable. Look at how far we’ve come in seven simple days.
I know Ryland’s door is unlocked, as is my own, but since Grant’s over, I go for polite and knock. Less than thirty seconds pass before the condo door opens, a smiling shaggy haired Grant waiting for me on the other side. He’s shorter than Ryland, but still taller than my average height, which means he too looks down at me.
Grant does some weird version of a secret handshake with me, but I fumble it as he goes through each step. By the time the complicated move is done I’m left laughing at his antics.
“We’ll get you there one day. What’s up, Kitten?” Grant's faded blue jeans and multi-striped sweater soften his face full of a few days of stubble. While Ryland is hard and chiseled, Grant reminds me of the kid who decided he’d never grow up. It’s a chore to not laugh the entire time when he’s around.
“Don’t call her kitten!” Ryland yells from the living room couch turning around as he does.
Grant’s eyes widen at Ryland’s command.
“No, it’s okay. Grant’s allowed.” I pat Grant on the shoulder and walk farther into the condo.
It’s the same apartment I practically ran out of last night. The couch where the nonexistent kiss happened hasn’t burst into flames overnight. Everything looks the same, but I don’t feel the same standing here. The room lets off a different current today. An electric sizzle.
Ryland stands and switches off their current game of Dragons Reborn. “Why is he allowed?”
I turn back to Grant with the sweetest succulent smile I have in my depository. “Because I like Grant.”
Ryland’s mouth falls open in accusation. I’ve met Grant many times at Cosmo’s. Is Ryland’s reaction from Grant and my apparent friendship or because I gave him thehonorof calling me kitten?
“Ryland told me about you and him last night. I have to say Marissa I didn’t see it in you,” Grant says a few feet behind me.
Ryland told his friend about our kiss that wasn’t a kiss? What the hell happened to the don’t kiss and tell rule? It hasn’t been twenty-four hours.
Rather than beg forgiveness or at the least pretend to be properly upset over his betrayal, Ryland’s lips spread into the widest smile I’ve ever seen. If it gets any bigger, I worry he might suffer medical complications. I can’t believe the giant douche nozzle told Grant what happened between us and now doesn’t feel any remorse about it. I take back all the good things I thought about him.
“Yes, I told Grant you’re a killer with the sword, but he doesn’t believe me and wants to see it for himself.”
My shoulders slump and I blow out a slow relieved breath at his words. Oh right. Dragons Reborn, the other thing we did last night. Not the kiss. Oops. I’m flushed, my cheeks hot to the touch when I bring a hand up to check. I hope it’s from anger and not embarrassment.
“Right… the fighting.” I search for anything else to keep the conversation moving in this new direction. “I would’ve been better, but Ryland didn’t give me a very good sword.”
Grant feigns a proper amount of outrage over the bit of information I share. “That’s horrible, Marissa. How can you be expected to kill zombies, ogres, and skeleton warriors without the proper equipment?” He guides me to the couch where a third controller’s been plugged into the game box. “Luckily for you, I do believe I have an extra enchanted sword in one of my rooms. If you come to my section of the castle, I’ll gladly let you use it.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Grant. Thank you,” I answer with my best Southern Belle impersonation. This is a guy who understands how to play along.
“I’ll take care of you, Kitten,” Grant replies grabbing a hand to keep our charade at full steam.
Ryland scoffs on his side of the couch. “Oh get off it, mate.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but speak to Grant. “Do you know where to buy a bike? A parking spot recently opened up.” Let’s see what Ryland does when he comes home to find a bike in one of his precious parking spaces.
“Like a pedal bike?” Ryland narrows his eyes right back at me. The man caught on quicker than I expected. Game on.
Grant, oblivious to the turn of our conversation, tries to help. “Well I’m not sure you could get around with your foot still wrapped, but I might know of a guy if you need one after you’re off the crutches.”
“She’s not getting a bike, Grant. Marissa doesn’t get a parking space. Rule number five.”
“Ah the rules.” Grant laughs. “You can’t use that space anyway. It's mine.”
“What?”
“I need a space to park when I visit. The meters are outrageously priced. I actually came up with that rule for Ryland.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and ask for help in dealing with these two. “Do you know the crap he makes a person agree to before they can live next door?”
