The reviewers had sent comments on my most recently submitted paper and I hoped to correct what I could as soon as possible so they would accept it for publication.
“Do you need something?”
“Look at me,” he said.
So far, I’d been staring and talking at his chest.
“Look at me, Scott,” he demanded more forcefully.
Slowly, I raised my head to look him directly in the eye. Unlike the first time, I held my own, probably helped by the cuff, but the colour of his irises rooted me to the spot.
To say Grayson had blue eyes was a disservice. They weren’t just pretty baby blues. They were stormy, caging the tornado that was his personality and helped him rip through life. They tumbled from blue to grey and back again in stunning waves that lapped at the shores of his pupils.
“What happened today —” Grayson began.
“You could have hurt him.”My senses returned, and the anger flared in my chest, thinking back to the afternoon’s mess.
“He started it!”
“I don’t care who started it,” I said sharply, feeling like a schoolteacher. “You should have never jumped at the chance of that fight.”
He shrugged, unbothered by my logic and said, “Sal seemed impressed.”
“Sal doesn’t know who you are! Stay away from Matthew. He’s a friend and I will not see him hurt by you.”
Grayson scoffed.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Holden wants more than a friendship with you.”
My stomach coiled uncomfortably at his observation. I wasn’t stupid or blind. It was easy to see that Matthew wanted more, but I wasn’t sure I saw him in the same way. I wasn’t sure I was ready to open myself up to someone and take a chance at something that could end in disaster.
“That’s none of your business,” I informed him.
“The question is,” Grayson said, looking down at me with interest. “Do you want more than a friendship with him?”
I wasn’t comfortable discussing the matter with Grayson, let alone when Matthew was asleep down the hallway.
“It’s none of your business,” I repeated through gritted teeth.
“Because I don’t think you see him like that.”
“Grayson,” I warned.
“You don’t think of him the way you’ve thought of me,” he continued, looking smug. “He doesn’t spark that same desire in you, does he?”
The smirk that graced his face had me balling my hands into fists. There was no hiding from him when he knew. He’d heard every thought as my body betrayed me and reacted to his.
“You can’t help thinking about me in the most primal ways,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
“I want nothing to do with you!” I exploded, refusing to give in to his stupid games. “Do you understand? I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last being on earth!”
With that, I slammed the door shut with such force that a few sheets of paper fluttered to the floor of my room. Grayson chuckled loudly on the other side of the door, and I let out a frustrated scream.
It would be bliss to have the house to myself again.
If avoiding Grayson was an Olympic sport, I would have qualified and won every gold medal up for grabs.
