How to Speak Boy

by Tiana Smith

  “Since when did you weasel your way into my dinner plans?” I asked.

  “Since you knocked on my door.” He turned the paper around so it was facing me. “They have hamburgers. I know how much you like those.”

  He smirked.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “I’ll get the mac and cheese, thanks.” I made sure to keep my voice level. He was right that room service would be faster, and with how my stomach was trying to eat me from the inside out, that might not be the worst thing in the world. It sounded better than pizza anyway.

  Grayson picked up the room phone, pushed a button, and spoke into the receiver. “Room service, please.”

  Grayson proceeded to order multiple things off the menu, like he planned on feeding the entire hotel, or at least every member of our speech team. He asked to pay with his credit card rather than putting it on the room, then gave them the number.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I said after he hung up.

  He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but the last thing I wanted was to be in Grayson’s debt. I didn’t need him to be nice.

  Grayson cleared his throat. “Quinn.” He reached out and put his hand over mine briefly before pulling back. “I really want us to be friends.”

  I looked up to find his dark brown eyes focusing intently on me. Now was the time to be strong. To not fall for his tricks the way I had before.

  “We … are…?” I stumbled over my words, feeling their insincerity even as I said them. Grayson was shaking his head.

  “No, we hardly speak to one another. And even if things can’t be more between us, I still think we work really well together, and we have fun. I think we could not just be friends, but be really good friends, if you give us a chance.”

  People didn’t say stuff like that. Bare their soul and say the truth they’re thinking. But Grayson did, and as much as I hated to admit it, I liked that about him.

  If he was being honest. I couldn’t help but hear Carter’s voice in my head, saying that Grayson couldn’t be trusted.

  I had too many emotions to process, so I simply sat there and watched Grayson swallow.

  “I’m sorry about everything. If that makes it any better,” he said.

  I fiddled with the ends of my hair as I considered what to say.

  I really had missed talking with him. Grayson knew exactly how to tease a response out of me. But being “friendly” came with some pretty big red flags. Now that months had passed, though, I was relatively sure I could handle it. Relatively being the key word.

  After the silence got to be too much, I sighed.

  “I honestly don’t know if I can trust you.” I was surprised when the truth fell from my lips. I was outright telling him I was onto his game, and that could maybe give him the upper hand somehow. But what if I’d been wrong, and whatever had happened with Zara wasn’t what I thought? “I don’t want you to say you’re my friend, then have you turn around and hurt me when you get a chance. And I don’t know if you will.”

  Grayson sat back, clearly not expecting what I’d just said. “You don’t trust me,” he repeated. Then he sighed. “I guess that’s fair, after what happened.”

  It wasn’t just what had happened between us, but with other girls as well. But I didn’t feel like airing his dirty laundry right now. Especially if I didn’t have all the facts.

  The silence now filled the room and I fidgeted with the awkwardness of everything. I didn’t like where things were with Grayson, and I wished they were different. I wanted to believe him. Life had been better back when we bantered and riled each other up. It’d been fun. I hadn’t even realized what we had until it was taken away. Eventually I sighed.

  “Okay, yeah, let’s try to be friends. I’ll try to trust you. And in the name of friendship and being totally honest, I guess I should say I understand what you were going through because I’m pretty sure I like someone else now too.” I wasn’t 100 percent sure why I’d said that. Maybe so Grayson would stop trying to play me. Maybe so I wouldn’t feel like such a loser.

  I didn’t know where things stood with 15211. But I wanted to believe he could be the guy for me. Because maybe then I could forget about Grayson. Grayson, who leaned over and nudged my knee.

  “Yeah?” He settled back against the headboard. I thought he looked disappointed, but that was probably wishful thinking. Or his mind games at work. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, we’re not that good of friends yet.”

  “Yet,” he repeated, a small smile on his face. “We’ll get there.”

  I smiled, and I tried to make sure it didn’t look wistful. “Okay, so you should break the silence first then—who were you crushing on and how’re things going there?” I didn’t really want to ask, but it’d be better to know. Maybe then I could warn her if she was competing with Grayson in any way. Or maybe it’d teach my heart to move on already.

  He shook his head. “I’m still working on it. But let’s just say that before we left, I got some really good news in that area of my life.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “Like, good news that she likes you back?”

  “Can’t say for sure. She’s, uh, really hard to read.” He let out a chuckle.

  “Okay, well, maybe when you tell me about your mystery crush, I’ll think about telling you about mine.”

  Grayson looked away and I took the opportunity to study his features.

  Maybe he didn’t like me scrutinizing him because he took his glasses off and wiped them on the hem of his shirt. He put them back on and adjusted them.

  “Glasses suit you,” I said without thinking. I wanted to take the words back, but they were out, so I kept stammering one word after another, like that might somehow erase what I’d said. “I mean, they look right on you. Like, you look good. Ummm, wow, I should stop talking.”

  “Nah,” Grayson said with a smile. “I think you should keep talking.”

  He was insufferable. I reached over and snatched one of the pillows, then hit him with it.

  “Oh, no you didn’t.” He grabbed the pillow from behind his back and then he whacked me across the face. He didn’t hold back either. It knocked me back off the bed so I fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, laughing so hard I couldn’t move for a minute.

  “You are so going to pay for that,” I said between fits of laughter, standing up on still-shaking legs. I gripped the end of the pillow for better leverage and rocked my weight back on my heels. Grayson held his hands in front of his face.

  “Wait, wait!” He took his glasses off and put them on the nightstand. “Okay, contin—”

  I didn’t wait for him to finish before I smacked him full-on in the face.

  It was cathartic. Freeing. Surprisingly fun and all I could have wanted in that moment.

  He lunged from the bed and tackled me back onto it, his fingers finding the sensitive skin at my waist and squeezing until I squealed.

  I was suddenly breathless. Breathless from laughing, yes, but more so because his hands were on my waist and I could feel the heat of his fingertips on my skin. Either he was very good at playing games, or he was very bad at being just friends. How did he expect me to think of him that way when his face was only inches away from my own? I sucked in a breath and bit my lip—and that was when someone knocked on the door.

  “That must be room service.” My voice sounded wispy even to my own ears. Funny, but I hadn’t even considered how hungry I was once I got in the same room with Grayson.

  I crawled out from under him and slid off the bed. He was laughing behind me as I walked up to the door and flung it open.

  It was not room service.

  It was our coach.

  And she seemed as surprised to see me there as I was to see her.

  It was too late to smooth down my hair, which was staticky after our pillow fight. It didn’t help when Grayson came up to the door, still putting on his glasses with one side of his hair all smooshed in a way that totally
made it look like we’d been doing something else.

  Coach Bates opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  Then Grayson burst out laughing again and it was easier to join in than to dwell on what must be going through my coach’s head. I started out with a chuckle, but soon, Grayson and I were full-on cry-laughing while our coach watched us concerned.

  “Sorry,” Grayson gasped. “I promise nothing is going on here. I hit her with a pillow is all.”

  Coach’s eyes raised up, but this time when she opened her mouth, she actually spoke.

  “I’ll need you to go back to your own room now, Quinn, and I’ll walk with you to ensure Landon returns here.”

  “Can she at least wait until our food gets here?” Grayson asked.

  I was resigned to go hungry for the night rather than risk my coach’s wrath, but in that moment, I was infinitely glad he’d asked. Because I was pretty sure I’d faint from hunger here pretty soon. My stomach grumbled, but Coach’s expression didn’t soften. She looked down at her watch.

  “How much longer will that be?”

  At that moment, a hotel employee rounded the corner with a cart of food.

  Coach sighed.

  “Fifteen minutes to eat your dinner, then you need to return to your own room. I’ll be back to check.”

  I nodded emphatically, knowing the only reason she wasn’t yelling right now was because Grayson had clout. I hated to see how she’d react when she went to check on Aisha and Landon, which she was sure to do right after leaving here. I’d text them a warning after Coach left, but it’d probably be too late.

  She nodded once. “I didn’t expect this of either of you. Tomorrow I anticipate you’ll both focus extra hard.” Her disapproval was written all over her face. It was a good reminder that really I should avoid Grayson for my own benefit. If I had, my coach wouldn’t be so disappointed right now. That, and I wouldn’t feel so confused and conflicted.

  We each nodded again, staying silent.

  “See that you do.” She took a step back and gave a cold stare. “I’ll be back. Think about your choices.”

  Oh, I’d be thinking about them all right. But probably not the choices she was talking about.

  Chapter Twenty

  We got back from the meet Sunday night. I’d sat by Grayson on the flight back, and we’d even shared an armrest. I still didn’t know how to feel about it. But he was super supportive of my win at the tournament, and it was hard to be negative about anything with that kind of adrenaline running through my veins, so I tried not to question things.

  There was a letter in my cubby Monday morning. I felt a little bad for writing 15211 about setting up a meeting and then skipping out of town for the rest of the week. He’d probably gone bananas waiting for my reply. At least, I kind of hoped he had.

  Now I stood in front of the Idaho state capitol building and wondered if agreeing to meet him had been a mistake. The building stood in front of me, all stoic, and formal, and pillar-y. Why did government buildings have so many pillars? And they always had a dome top. What was that about? Like we couldn’t do official things unless the building had a stick up its butt? There were approximately a bazillion stairs between me and the front doors, but I didn’t move.

  Meeting at the capitol building had been his idea, and he’d set it a few days out so I’d have a chance to back out if I wanted. I’d told him the only reason I was agreeing to meet with him was because I needed serious help in AP Government, so he suggested this as the place to go. He wanted me to watch a session to really get a grasp of how things worked, and even though that sounded like the most boring thing I could possibly be doing with my Wednesday evening, I was desperate enough to try. Plus, it didn’t hurt that I’d be learning who 15211 was soon. So there was that to look forward to.

  Naomi had practically pushed me out the door when she saw his response. After she helped me with my hair, of course. Then she’d done the pushing. She’d offered to drive me here, but I didn’t want her staking out the parking lot and spying on us, so I took the bus. Not that I’d put it past her anyway, since she was all for me taking things to the next level, ASAP.

  Now, though, now I couldn’t take a step. True, taking a step would mean I was that much closer to finding out 15211’s identity, but the downside was, he’d then know who I was too. It worked both ways.

  The steps went on forever, reaching up into a fortress of marble and stone.

  When I’d written my acceptance of 15211’s plan, I’d been all hyped up over my win from the Arizona competition. I’d been on top of my game. On top of the world. Now I was at the bottom of a very long stairway, and I wasn’t sure about anything at all.

  All along, 15211 had been this figment in my mind, like he didn’t actually exist. I’d imagine the way he’d look or act, and everything was in my control. But I couldn’t control a real boy. I could barely even talk to one. He’d have his own opinions, his own way of thinking and acting, and he’d no longer be this fantasy I could turn to whenever I needed it.

  He could stop writing me once he figured out who I was. He could disappoint me. He could hurt me. He could do all those things if I walked up the steps. But he couldn’t if I stayed where I was.

  My heart banged in my chest as I heavily placed my foot on the first stair. Had someone stolen into my room and filled all my limbs with cement overnight? I took one step after another until I’d made my way to the front doors. Then I pulled them open and walked inside, refusing to look back and see if 15211 might already be there in the parking lot.

  I tried to ignore all the grown-ups in suits watching me as I walked the length of the marble floor and found a chair placed to the side. It was better to wait inside where it was warm than outside in the January air. I crossed my legs and prepared to wait, but then I saw him.

  Not 15211.

  Grayson.

  Here.

  A huge potted plant was to the right of the bench where I sat, and I ducked behind the branches to peer from behind the fronds. Grayson was laughing with an older man, both of them standing toward the back of the lobby. They clearly knew each other, and people passing by all waved at them. Grayson was no stranger to the state capitol building, apparently, which shouldn’t have surprised me since he looked like he was here on some kind of business. The man gave Grayson a sticky note and Grayson put it in his pocket before turning with a wave. They parted ways and Grayson started walking toward the main entrance.

  He was leaving, thank all that was good in the world.

  He was leaving, which meant Grayson was not 15211. He just happened to be here around the same time, and now he was going someplace else. It was only a coincidence. My mind was going full-on hummingbird speed, but I took in a shaky breath.

  I was wearing a black-and-white-striped shirt, like I’d specified in my letter so 15211 would know who I was. He was supposed to be wearing a hat, which Grayson clearly wasn’t.

  I let go of the plant branches I’d been holding on to and the bush made a rustling sound, teetering in its pot. I put my hands to the base of the pot, but it was too late.

  Grayson turned and saw me.

  “Quinn?”

  He looked just as surprised to see me as I had been to see him. Or maybe his expression was more one of confusion. It was kind of hard to tell. His eyebrows were pulled together, but one corner of his mouth was pulled up in a smile.

  There wasn’t enough air in this place. Every inch of my skin was tingling and all I could do was sit there and think through all the letters I had sitting in my drawer at home.

  Grayson had been leaving, walking toward the main doors with purpose. He couldn’t be 15211. I knew it for the same reason I knew Carter wasn’t. 15211 said he liked to cook dinner for his younger siblings. Siblings, as in, plural little brothers or sisters. Grayson only had a little sister. I’d met her at parents’ night. Plus, 15211 was witty and flirty—Grayson was nothing but trouble. And he wasn’t wearing a hat.

  He came to
where I was sitting and I stopped fussing with the potted plant. “What are you doing here?” he asked me, which was also something he wouldn’t have had to ask me if he were 15211. He sounded hesitant, his voice betraying his confusion.

  I fiddled with the sleeve of my shirt. “I don’t want to say.” I could barely meet his gaze. If he knew the truth behind why I was here, he’d judge me. Would he think I was a hopeless romantic or something, to be crushing on someone I’d never even met? Or would he figure out I’d only shifted my feelings to the letter writer when he’d rejected me?

  Besides, Grayson probably knew everything and then some about politics—what would he think if he knew how much I struggled in AP Government and how that had been the reason 15211 had suggested we meet here?

  Grayson ran a hand through his hair and came to sit on the bench next to me. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because knowing my luck, you’d use the information against me.” Or you’ll mock me.

  He considered my words with a slow nod. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

  That was it, and it wasn’t. But I wasn’t sure how to put into words the complete and utter embarrassment I was feeling. Like giving a speech in only my underwear.

  Actually, I think I’d take the underwear speech, thank you very much.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked instead.

  He looked around, as if seeming to realize we were in a big, fancy government building made of marble, and not the linoleum halls of our school.

  “Uh, my mom asked me to bring her some paperwork from home,” he said.

  Oh. He really, certainly, definitely wasn’t 15211 after all. I tried not to let my ping-ponging emotions show on my face.

  “So you really won’t tell me why you’re here?” His voice took on a teasing tone and he nudged my shoulder. I felt my resolve crack a little bit. “Pretty please?” He batted his eyelashes dramatically and I heaved a sigh.