Rm w/a Vu

by A. D. Ryan

  “You’re early,” Greyston says to Toby. “You hungry?”

  “Does an ostrich fly?” He’s got his hand resting on his flat stomach, giving the impression that maybe he is. Of course, this makes his statement confusing.

  Both Greyston and I look at Toby, but it’s me that says something. “Um, no, actually they don’t.”

  Toby looks genuinely surprised. “Really? Are you sure?”

  I don’t mean to laugh at him, but the poor guy really has no idea. “Yup. Pretty sure.”

  He walks over to the cupboard that holds the dishes and grabs a plate. “Guess I need to think of another rhetorical question, huh?”

  Scooping a generous amount of pasta on his plate, Toby asks if Greyston has booked the hotel yet. I decide to eat my own meal, not wanting to intrude.

  “Not yet.” Toby shoots a disapproving look over his shoulder, and Greyston laughs. “I know, I know. I liked the idea of sharing that single bed as much as you did.”

  That doesn’t mean anything, I try to tell myself. He didn’t say they did share it.

  “So, do you guys travel together a lot?” I ask, fishing for more information without bluntly asking and appearing rude. Truthfully, I’ve never been particularly good at fishing for anything, but I am going to give it a shot. I refuse to let this go on as long as the Callie thing did.

  Toby leans against the counter in front of the sink and begins to eat, nodding. “Yeah. Whenever we can. It just depends on just how badly we need each other.”

  I nod as though I understand, but the truth of the matter is, I’m still uncertain; he could mean a lot of things. “I see. Have you guys been…together long?”

  “About four years,” Greyston replies without skipping a beat. “It was actually Callie that introduced us. We quickly became friends and then just couldn’t deny how great we would be together.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I’m still a little skeptical; sure, it’s dwindling—just not in the way I’ve been hoping.

  Toby finishes his dinner first, even though he started after us and had more than double our amount, and puts his plate in the dishwasher. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you to finish up. Greyston, I’ll meet you upstairs?”

  Upstairs…where the bedrooms are. There’s a study too, I quickly remind myself. And the mystery room.

  “Okay,” Greyston says, finishing his dinner and heading to the sink. “I’ll be right up after I clean the kitchen.”

  I take the last bite of my pasta and join him. “Don’t be silly. Go. I’ll clean up,” I offer with a smile.

  “Yeah?” He’s got a silly grin on his face, and it’s pretty infectious.

  “Yes. Go. Do whatever it is that you boys do.” I’m honestly trying not to think too much about it because I still don’t really have a definitive answer. “I’ll be hitting the books right away anyway.”

  Greyston gives my upper arm a light squeeze. “Thanks. We’ll try to keep it down.”

  Oh, so they’re noisy.

  After finishing the dishes, I wipe the counters off and head upstairs with a fresh-brewed cup of coffee. As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear their voices. From behind the closed door to my right. Yes, the mystery room.

  Curious—as always—I step closer, being sure to balance on the tips of my toes and move softly over the glossy hardwood floor.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hear Greyston demand.

  Toby laughs. “What? I thought you’d like that… No?”

  “Hell no!”

  I search the door for a keyhole or something to peep through. I am deeply aware of just how wrong this is, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Well, what about when I do this?”

  My eyes widen as I imagine what “this” could possibly be. I can’t even fathom it. Flashes of them caught in some kind of torrid embrace flood my mind, and tendrils of warmth spread across my skin, caressing me until my fingers and my toes tingle.

  Definitely not the effect I expected from such a thought, but a welcome one, nonetheless.

  “Um, it’s a little better. Still doesn’t amaze me.”

  Wow, Greyston’s tough to please.

  “You know,” Toby says, sounding exasperated, “you were a lot more fun last week when we did this.”

  Greyston laughs loudly. “Yeah, well, last week we didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else with our shenanigans.”

  I instantly step away from the door, finally coming to my senses enough to know I really shouldn’t be so invasive. However, in my haste to retreat, I bump into the little table against the wall, sending a candle toppling over and onto the floor with a very loud—and echoey—thud!

  Silence fills the hall. Greyston and Toby have stopped doing whatever it is they’re doing; I’ve stopped breathing and am just waiting to be found out. Before that can happen, I snatch the candle up off the floor and put it back on the table. I can’t be sure it’s even in the right spot as I dash from the scene—as quickly as I can with a cup of coffee—and the door opens behind me.

  “Juliette?” Greyston calls out into the hall, but I’ve already disappeared from sight.

  Taking a deep breath, I put a smile on my face and hang my head out into the hall. “Yeah?”

  “Did you…?”

  I reach out and run my fingers through my hair, stepping out into the hall. “Oh,” I say. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—the hazards of reading a text while walking—and bumped into the table.” I can’t lie, so I figure a slight bend and an omission is probably best. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

  Greyston chuckles, stepping out into the hall. I notice he’s shed the button-up shirt he was wearing and is now in a thinner cotton tee. His hair might be a little more mussed than before, but I don’t get the chance to properly survey the area before he runs his long fingers through it. “Trust me,” he says in a teasing tone. “You can’t be any more disturbing than Toby. Do you have any idea what he was doing?”

  I open my mouth to put a few guesses out there, but then think better of it. “I can only imagine,” I reply sweetly. “Well, I should hit the books.” I point toward my room with my thumb.

  “Oh, okay. You’ll let me know if you need anything?” I nod. “Remember to make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever it is you want.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Greyston and I go our separate ways, but before I close my door, I hear him exclaim, “Did you keep going without me?”

  I stifle a laugh as I close my door. With what I suspect is going on down the hall, it’s hard for me to focus on my studies, and I think I’ve re-read the same paragraph at least ten times. My eyes burn, and my eyelids grow heavy. I close them for a minute, just to rest them and gather a reserve of energy, but when I open them again my cheek is pressed to the pages of my text and it’s pitch black outside. One quick glance at my alarm clock tells me it’s four in the morning.

  “Awesome,” I grumble, pushing myself off my bed. I reach for my mug of coffee—which is still full and now cold—and head downstairs. I’m sure to tip-toe past Greyston’s closed bedroom door.

  As I step into the kitchen, I’m surprised to see the refrigerator light on and Greyston’s lower half. “Oh!” I exclaim, making him stand up.

  Only, it’s not Greyston. And he’s not wearing a shirt.

  I immediately look away. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was up,” I tell Toby. “I fell asleep studying and came down to dump my cold coffee and grab a glass of water.”

  Toby laughs quietly, bringing a glass of orange juice to his lips. “No worries, Juliette. Can I get you anything?”

  He’s sweet, just like Greyston. Exactly the type of person he should be with.

  “Thanks. Um, where are the glasses?”

  “Cupboard to the left of the sink,” Toby says, stepping off to the side.

  I grab a glass and fill it with tap water. With my back turned, I sip my water and stare out the window at the n
ight sky that overlooks the desert. I want to talk to Toby, not necessarily about his relationship, but just to get to know him. I mean, he’s got to be a pretty big part of Greyston’s life; it probably isn’t a bad idea to become friends.

  “So, how do you feel about Greyston leaving on this trip?” Toby asks before I get a chance to speak.

  I turn around and see him sitting at the counter, both of his large hands wrapped around the slender glass before him. “Fine.”

  Toby smiles, his dimples deepening, and stares down into his glass. “He’s worried you won’t feel safe,” he confesses. “I’m just making sure you’re okay with staying here. If not, I’d be happy to make other arrangements.”

  Smiling genuinely at his concern, I walk around the island and sit next to him. “It’s a big house,” I say. “But I have a couple of friends I can invite over.”

  “Guys?” Why does it sound like he’s fishing for my relationship status?

  I shake my head. “No. Boys are so not on my radar at the moment.”

  Toby quirks an eyebrow. “Oh? None at all?”

  I laugh. “No.” My cheeks warm at my half-truth, and I drop my eyes from his. “Well, there was one, but he’s not exactly available,” I explain quietly.

  “His loss,” Toby says, bumping my shoulder lightly with his fist.

  I look back up at him, shrugging one shoulder. “Nah. He’s with someone pretty great from what I can tell,” I tell him honestly, not wanting to divulge that my crush is on Greyston.

  “How is it you haven’t been snatched up yet?” Toby asks, leaning in. “You’re adorable.”

  I can feel myself blushing, and I’m thankful it’s dark in the kitchen so he can’t see it as I drop my gaze and giggle. “Um, thanks?”

  “So, you’re sure you’re going to be okay here alone for a few days? If not—”

  “Thanks,” I say, interrupting him. “I’ll be fine. Even if none of my friends can stay here, I can take care of myself.”

  This seems to intrigue Toby. “Oh?”

  “I’ve taken more self-defense classes than you can imagine, and I’m kind of a crack shot,” I brag.

  Toby’s head begins to bob up and down, his smile widening even more. “Badass.”

  I’m just about to thank him for his concern when a gravelly voice comes from behind me. “Hey. What’s going on down here?”

  I turn around to see a sleepy-eyed Greyston scratching the back of his head as he eyes us, confused.

  “Oh,” I say, hopping up off my chair. “I fell asleep and was just bringing my cold coffee down and grabbing a glass of water when I ran into Toby, and we got to talking.”

  Greyston’s eyes go wide, almost like he’s worried about something. Then they travel to Toby, and he rolls them. “Jesus, man. Put a shirt on. There’s a lady living here now.”

  I laugh. “That’s okay. I’m actually going to head back up to bed. I’ll see you guys in a few more hours.”

  “Actually,” Toby speaks up, pushing his stool away from the counter and standing. “I’m going to head home. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here as it was.”

  “Oh?” I stop in the doorway, looking between him and Greyston.

  “Yeah, Greyston and I were just so into fucking around”—I swallow thickly, trying to keep my expression neutral—“that we lost track of time and just passed out upstairs.”

  “Gotcha.” I nod. “Well, I’ll see you soon then?”

  “Probably more than you’d like,” Greyston teases.

  Toby smirks. “Watch it,” he threatens playfully. “I won’t hesitate to drop you.”

  “All right,” I interject, faking a yawn. “I’m going to go back to bed before I’m asked to ref a wrestling match.”

  “Have a good sleep, Juliette,” Greyston says softly, offering me a brief glimpse of his crooked smirk.

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  The minute I leave the kitchen, I hear Greyston quietly inquire about what we were talking about.

  Toby laughs quietly before telling him that he was only asking how I felt about staying here alone and that he offered to help me out if I needed it. “Did you know she can shoot?” Toby asks jovially, bringing a smile to my face.

  “I…no. But it doesn’t surprise me; her dad’s a cop.”

  On that note, I continue up to bed in case they want a minute alone to say goodnight to one another. The minute my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a light.

  Chapter 11

  After leaving Greyston and Toby in the kitchen, I hadn’t gotten more than another three hours of sleep. Like the day before, the sun wakes me up, shining through the windows on my balcony doors, and I step outside to see Greyston enjoying his morning swim.

  Not wanting to be caught watching him cut gracefully through the water, I retreat back into my room and decide to use my morning burst of energy on unpacking. Once everything is put away, I decide it’s time to change out of my pajamas and do a load of laundry. Having just heard on the radio that we’re in store for a record-breaking heat wave, I pull on my shorts from yesterday and a fresh tank top.

  Laundry-wise, I don’t have much, but I’ve got enough for a small load of colors and an even smaller load of whites. I grab my basket and head down to the basement. I find the laundry room down the hall from a large and well-equipped home gym and turn on the machine while I separate my clothes, throwing my whites in first.

  While my laundry cycles, I head outside to see Greyston still swimming. I walk barefoot to the edge of the pool and dip my toes in as Greyston swims by obliviously. Playfully, I kick out, forcing huge droplets of water to rain down on his partially exposed back. He stops in the middle of the pool, looking around until he sees me.

  With a bright, toothy smile, he pushes his hair off his forehead. “Hey. Been up long?”

  I shake my head and sit down so I can stick my legs in the water. “Not really. I actually just finished unpacking and throwing a load of laundry in.”

  The lower half of Greyston’s face disappears beneath the surface of the water and he swims toward me. Once he’s next to me, he rests his arms on the cement pool deck and looks up at me. He’s so close to me that there’s not much water between his ribs and my calf. In fact, if I moved a fraction of an inch, my toes would probably graze the hem of his trunks…

  I clear my throat, trying to refocus my attention on what I originally came out here to do. “I was going to make breakfast. Have you eaten?” I ask.

  “Nope. I’ll finish up my lengths, and I’ll meet you inside in fifteen?”

  Smiling, I pull my legs from the water, accidentally grazing the side of his thigh with my foot. His lips twitch before forming a smile, and he quickly pushes himself away from the edge of the pool. Away from me. I don’t take it personally; I shouldn’t have done what I did. I blame it on my apparent lack of self-control today.

  “Cool. I’ll see you inside.”

  Inside, I head to the fridge to search for something to make, eventually deciding on French toast. I grab everything I’ll need and begin my preparation. I’m just putting the last of six slices on when I hear the patio door slide open and Greyston’s bare feet pad across the slick tile. He’s right behind me—I can feel the waves of heat rolling off of his bare chest and across my back and shoulders. I take a shaky breath at the same time he inhales.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I had French toast?” he asks, his breath tickling my exposed neck and ear.

  I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t; my voice is completely gone. It would appear that having him so close to me has forced me into a temporary state of muteness. So, instead of speaking, I shake my head, tightening my hold on the spatula to keep the tremble in my hands from being too noticeable.

  He takes a few steps back, and I exhale through my lips quietly. “I’m going to go have a quick shower,” he announces. “I’ll be right down.”

  “Y-yeah,” I reply, my voice having come back. “I’ll see you in a few.”


  The minute he’s out of sight, I drop the spatula onto the counter, bits of cinnamon-infused egg scattering across the dark marble surface. I run my fingers through my hair and look toward the empty doorway, wondering why the hell I can’t seem to get my body to understand that he’s unavailable in the most extreme way.

  My brain gets it, but every time I’m around him, it’s like I mentally check out, and my body just does whatever the hell it wants.

  Okay, so maybe not, because if that happened, this counter would have my naked ass prints all the hell over it, and the smell of my French toast burning would be real and not in my imagination.

  Wait a minute…

  “Shit!” I shout, reaching out and turning the burner off before sliding the pan to an empty burner. I grab the spatula to remove the slice of bread from the pan, but it doesn’t come easily; I actually have to scrape it off.

  The smoke is thick, and the smell of burned toast and egg is heavy in the air. I open the kitchen window and turn on the fan above the stove. It doesn’t seem to help as quickly as I’d like, so I slide the patio door open wide and begin to fan the air with the dishtowel that Greyston keeps on the oven handle.

  “What happened in here?” Greyston asks, his eyes instantly finding mine as he rushes toward me. “It smells like you burned something.”

  I grimace. “Damn,” I groan. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I wasn’t paying attention, and the heat must have been too high. I burned it. That’s all. No fires, I swear.” He looks from me to the plated pieces of toast, still concerned. “The other five slices are fine. I promise.” I laugh lightly. “I really am a decent cook, so don’t hold this against me, okay?”

  Letting his lips twist up into the smile I’ve come to look forward to, he grips my upper arm reassuringly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He releases me and grabs two glasses from the cupboard before offering me orange juice.

  “Sounds great. Thanks.”

  I finish cutting up some fruit for a salad, leaving the beautiful, plump strawberries he has in the fruit drawer out of it, and we take what I’ve decided are our usual seats.