Silence briefly falls over the table as we sip our drinks and gaze at one another. Surprisingly, it isn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, it’s kind of nice. When I’m with my girls, there isn’t a moment of quiet. Sutton or Liv or I are always going a mile a minute. There’s always something to do and something to say. This—whatever it is right here between Grayson and me—feels really nice.
Is this what it feels like to be normal? Right now, there’s no pressure to be perfect or flawless. I can simply be me.
“Tough things make us resilient,” I offer quietly.
Even though I desperately want to, I don’t press him for details about his career. I can see something simmering in his eyes, something he isn’t quite ready to talk about. I understand that completely. We all have our secrets, don’t we?
He lifts his chin and his eyes again meet mine. He nods and a slow, small smile curves his delicious looking lips.
Lips I suddenly want to kiss.
I hastily take another sip of coffee—which isn’t nearly as hot so I don’t burn my mouth—and then ask, “Where’d you study law, Grayson?”
I’ve got to keep this conversation going. One, if I don’t speak then he’s going to start asking questions about me, and I’m not exactly a very good liar. Actually, I’m a dreadful liar. Which means I’m only going to be able to play it coy for a limited time. And two, I reallydowant to know as much as I can about Grayson. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since our first meeting, and I want to know every detail possible before we go our separate ways again.
The idea bums me out more than I care to admit.
But he’s a lawyer and I’m a beauty influencer. We both have full schedules. Could it be that after this cup of coffee, we’re both going to walk right out the door in opposite directions and that will be that? The thought makes my heart twist in my chest, but I resolve to take this conversation one word at a time.
“Stanford Law,” he answers.
I wince. “Sounds expensive.”
Laughing softly, Grayson nods. “Definitely. Funding my tuition felt nearly impossible most of the time, but I managed somehow.”
“And now here you are, ready to take on the world one court case at a time.”
“Cheers to that.”
He gently presses his paper coffee cup against mine and we sip on our drinks again.
Outside, the clouds shift. Warm sunlight dances in through the café window, illuminating golden flecks in Grayson’s chestnut eyes and the strong profile of his handsome nose. Every time I blink, I swear he gets more and more good looking.
“What about you?” Grayson asks curiously. “Did you study makeup somewhere?”
“I studied art, actually, and eventually business, too. I wound up with a dual degree from USC two years ago. Believe me when I say I know how hard it is to fund education. I was lucky to land a scholarship.”
His eyes go a little wide. “That’s impressive.”
The raw sincerity of his tone is enough to catch me off guard. He doesn’t even know me, but he sounds so proud. It’s heartwarming and makes me think his soul just may be as gorgeous as the rest of him.
I feel a twinge of guilt as he grins at me. I almost feel bad for being furtive about my real career because it’s obvious that Grayson is genuine to the core.
For just a little while longer, though, I want things to stay this easy.
“I haven’t sat down and talked like this with someone in a really long time,” he continues. “It’s really nice. I’m usually at the office or trying to wade through piles and piles of paperwork that the senior attorneys pass down. I know it’s worth it, though, if I’m going to prove that I’m every bit of a good lawyer as anyone else.”
I understand exactly what he means. Despite what I’ve already accomplished, sometimes, I still feel like I have to show people I’m actually really good at what I do. But I guess I’m not the only one who feels the weight of that on my shoulders.
“Tell me about it,” I say. “Sometimes it feels like the day’s work is never done.”
Grayson tilts his head to the side so he can give me yet another long, intrigued look. “So, what do you do for fun then? To relieve some stress after a long day, I mean. Do you have a man at home to keep you company?”
“Well,” I answer levelly, “there’s George.”
The hunky guy across the cozy café table stops mid-sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing in shock. “George?” he sputters, clearing his throat hard.
“George,” I repeat with an emphatic nod. Unable to help myself, I flash him a feisty grin. “He’s my Labrador mix puppy. I found him wandering the beach near our home a while back—I live with my two best friends, by the way, both girls, if you must know—and he’s been with me ever since.”
