“Oh,” I say, and I flip the picture upright again and put it back the way she had it.“I must have bumped the table on my way to the door.”
The pause is longer this time.“No, I thought I heard someone.In the house.”
“Just me, Gran.”And for some reason, as I head into the kitchen, I feel like I have to keep talking.“Just you and me.”
17
Sam
After that, it’s like everything in my life clicks and starts playing in fast-forward.Part of that’s how busy I am.Work, but also planning the Greek Life outreach event, which is getting closer and closer.And when I’m not trying to find a band or contacting people who have used WISP over the last few months or trying to coordinate—for the tenth time—with the pothead Sigma Sigma bro who’s supposed to be helping me organize everything, I’m coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to spend time with Gray.EvenIknow they’re excuses.Not that it stops me.
WISP makes it easy; there’s always a reason.I drop by the offices to ask him a question about the event, and then I stay the rest of the night, and we eat takeout at his desk.Or we get lunch when we both have a day off, and I show him some of the ideas I have for a flyer.But as the days trickle past, the reasons become less and less important, and one night, when he’s leaving, I realize I never even talked to him about the opening remarks for the outreach, even though that was the whole reason he came over.
It might have been the fact that he got his hands up under my shirt as soon as we closed the bedroom door.
And once the reasons stop mattering, it’s even easier.He takes me to look at clothes, and when I’m not paying attention, he buys me a shirt and gives it to me in the car.He says it looks good with my eyes.Neither of us has anyone to go to the gym with, so that becomes part of the routine too.One morning, I’m knocking on his door at a quarter to six, and Gray groans the whole way down the elevator as we go for a run.Hell, we even go grocery shopping together.He thinks it’s real funny when I tell him which kind of yogurt is best.
It’s weird how you can be with someone, and one day, you don’t even remember what it was like when youweren’twith them.When you weren’t texting them in the morning to remind them to take a snack to work, or sending them a picture of a dog that got a haircut, all the way up until you finally tell him you’re going to bed, and then five minutes later, he sends you a meme, and you start talking all over again.
And for the first time since I stopped being such a jackass, work is something I’m trying to get through so I can go back to the rest of my life.
Work’s where we’ve got to be careful.Not because it’s a secret—it can’t be a secret if we’re going around telling donors.Wahredua’s a small town, after all.But we’ve got to be careful at work because we’re both walking a fine line.Gray had a real bad time the year before, and even though he’s still Gray—nothing’s going to change that—he’s trying to stay on Chief Peterson’s good side.And even though I have a hard time thinking about work now, I know I’ve got to be a professional; Chief Peterson’s not going to make me a detective if he thinks I’m screwing around, especially when I’m on duty.
But even trying to be careful, we almost slip up.There’s the obvious stuff, like the time Gray slaps my ass when we pass each other in the hall.We get lucky; Foley makes some crack about my sweet ass, and Ehlers yells at Gray to keep his hands to himself, but I don’t think anybody really thinks anything of it.Or the time we happen to be in the parking lot one morning, right when I’m about to head out on patrol, and instead, I end up talking to Gray for almost ten minutes at my cruiser.Just shooting the breeze.And when I finally realize I’m late, I grab his arm and pull him in like I’m going to kiss him goodbye.I catch myself, but only barely, and it’s a good thing we’re the only ones in the lot right now.
The other stuff, the stuff that starts giving me away, I don’t even think about until it’s too late.
We’re in the locker room.Norman is running a towel back and forth between his legs, and Foley’s asking him why he’s flossing his asshole, and Gross tells Foley it’s because Norman’s got a date with Foley’s mom, and I’m trying to get changed because Gray didn’t work today, so I can go straight over to his place.
That’s when McGown leans against the lockers and says, “What the fuck is going on with you?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong with you?Are you dying or something?”
“What the fuck’s wrong withyou, McGown?”Foley asks, but mostly because he thinks McGown is annoying.
“You know how many tickets he’s written in the last two weeks?”McGown asks.
Nobody answers.Norman’s still flossing away, and Gross is trying to look at a mole on his shoulder.
“Two,” McGown says.“What the fuck is up with that?”
“It’s been a slow couple of weeks,” I say.
But it hasn’t.It’s been a normal couple of weeks.Except I keep letting people off with warnings.
“We’re way below quota,” McGown says.“You’re not pulling your fucking weight.”
“The Wahredua Police Department doesn’t have a quota of traffic tickets,” I remind him.
Although it kind of does, just not officially.
“You’re fucking us over,” McGown says.
“You want more tickets,” Foley says, “go write more fucking tickets.”
“And go fuck yourself,” Norman says cheerily.
