Also, someone was knocking on the door to Graham’s room.
“Sweetie, are you up?”
Shit!His mom was out there. I lifted my head to look down at Graham. He swallowed and stretched a little. Sleepily, Graham lifted his head off the pillow. “Need a few minutes,” he said. The fact that he wasn’t freaking out yet made me want to check his pulse.
There was a pause, and then his mother said, “I think I’ll pick up coffee and muffins.”
Graham sat up and looked at me, and I waited for the inevitable look of panic to cross his face. But it didn’t. Instead, there was just a rumpled, sweet expression that made me want to reach for his naked body. “Hey, Mom?” he called, his voice still thick from sleep. “Can you grab a cup for Rikker too?”
My heart stuttered in my chest.
“Sure. Fifteen minutes,” she said. “Twenty if the line is long.”
I said nothing, keeping still until she’d moved away from the door.
But Graham threw back the covers and got out of bed as if nothing had shifted. As if it was no big thing to basically admit that she’d caught him in bed with his boyfriend. I watched him walk, bare-assed, across the room to his towel. He tied it around his waist, unlocked the door and left the room.
It was tempting to let myself drowse, but I wouldn’t do that to Mrs. G. So I began looking around for my underwear.
A second later the door opened again. “There’s nobody in the bathroom,” Graham said. “If you want a shower…”
Holy crap. Maybe his head injury was more serious than I thought. “Um, okay?”
“You go first.” Graham undid the towel from his own waist and threw it to me.
Fifteen minutes later I was straightening up the bed when he came back into the room after his own shower. “Nice shirt,” he smirked.
I’d stolen a plain gray tee out of his drawer. “I like it,” I said, patting the shirt. “It smells like you.”
His expression softened for a whole two seconds, maybe three. It wasn’t often that I disarmed Graham, getting a peek at the tender soul hiding under that toughened shell. He made me work for it. But last night and this morning I’d been reaping the rewards.
I was tying my shoes when Graham’s mom knocked again.
“It’s open,” Graham said.
“That’s nice,” Mrs. G’s voice came through the door. “But my hands are full.”
“Sorry,” he laughed, going for the door.
“Always be polite to the bearer of coffee,” she said, stepping over the threshold. “Hi John,” she said to me. “I made yours with a splash of milk. I hope that’s okay.”
“That is awesome,” I said, trying not to feel awkward. I took the cup she offered me from the molded paper tray. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
I took an appreciative gulp, and enjoyed the way the hot liquid felt going down. Like life itself pouring into me.
“When is practice today?” Graham asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “I’m afraid to look at my phone. Coach started getting a little nutty about the next game before we were even off the bus yesterday.”
“You’re up against Union,” Mrs. Graham said, shaking her head.
“Yeah. Could be the last road trip of the year.”
“That’s the spirit,” Graham said with a smirk.
“Hey, it’s early. I haven’t had enough coffee.” I set the cup down so I could scoop my Spanish book into my backpack. “Have a good one, G. And Mrs. G. Feel free to read the next chapter of Roman history without me.”
