Burned

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  “Stay here, at least for the night.” I can’t determine if his distress stems from my actions or his words.

  I hate seeing the pity in his eyes, though I guess I can’t assume it’s solely directed at me. Maybe he wants me to stay because he wants the company too. “Okay.” I offer a small smile and reach over to squeeze his hand. We can get through this. Together.

  I follow him through his garage and into his kitchen. It’s early, and the sun is starting to rise. “Are you hungry? I can make us breakfast.”

  “Honestly, I just want to go to sleep.” It becomes painfully apparent to me that I have nothing with me — no clothes, not even a freaking toothbrush. I don’t really want to be at home and sleep in my bed I shared with Taylor. Damn it.

  I’m hovering awkwardly in the kitchen, unable to make a decision about what to do next. Grayson must sense my unease, and he moves so he’s standing beside me and rests his hand on my back.

  “What is it?” He’s growing exasperated by me already with all my excuses and problems.

  “I should just go home. I don’t have any … things here.” I start to dig through my purse to find my keys, but Grayson’s hands cover mine to stop me.

  “Sage, you’ve been up all night. Just get some sleep. I’m sure there’s a spare toothbrush here somewhere. We’ll worry about clothes and other necessities when we wake up.” He’s talking to me like I’m a child, and my face burns with embarrassment. I know he’s right. Some sleep and I’ll be able to think logically and get my emotions under control.

  He leads me upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms. A part of me, a rather large part if I’m being honest, deflates because he doesn’t lead me to his bedroom. Not that I expected revenge sex out of him — though that would be awesome, but regardless I can’t have sex now anyway. But still we could comfort one another with some light cuddling at least.

  The guest room is adorned in neutral tones, though it leans to the girlier side in the scheme of things. I didn’t consider how I’d feel being surrounded by Lexi and sleeping in her house. I keep coming up with reasons as to why this is such a bad idea.

  But I need to keep my eye on the prize, and that prize is Grayson. If I’m a little uncomfortable for a night, then so be it. It’s nothing I can’t handle.

  I sit down on the edge of the plush white duvet and find the TV remote on the nearby bedside table. I go to turn on the TV but notice Grayson is still leaning against the doorway of the guest room. His sheepish expression throws me off guard.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I put my hand to my neck where my wedding and engagement rings sit on the necklace. I toy with them as Grayson’s jaw ticks, and he debates spitting out whatever is weighing on him.

  “Do you, uh, mind if I crash in here with you tonight? I can’t —” He begins to stutter so I cut him off.

  “Gray. You don’t even have to ask.” I pull the covers back and pat the bed beside me. I feel myself start to smile, but I rein it in so I don’t spook my best friend.

  We don’t say much, merely rolling onto our respective sides as if pretending this isn’t actually happening. He probably views it as having a sleepover with his best bud, which technically, he is. But I see it as an opportunity.

  Still, this is new territory, and I’ll admit I’m uncomfortable. Not emotionally, but literally physically uncomfortable. I’m frozen in place despite the fact my left arm is falling asleep, the pins and needles feeling painful. I would roll over, but since we’re not even talking to each other to ease the tension, it makes the moment incredibly awkward.

  I lay beside him and I can tell his breathing hasn’t settled into a regular pattern so I know he’s still awake. I slowly roll onto my back to release my pinned arm and the relief is instant. I nearly groan as I rub my arm up and down to work out the horrible sensation.

  Grayson peers over his shoulder at me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. My arm was asleep.” He rolls onto his back, our shoulders touching.

  This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a bed. We always snuck into each other’s houses as teenagers and spent the night without our parents even being aware it was happening. But even as horny teenagers without any ability to control our emotions, the tension wasn’t nearly as high as it is in this moment.

  I make the first move, rolling another quarter of the way, onto my right side so I face him. He remains on his back, his eyes roaming over my face and burning with desire. I prop up my elbow and lift my head. His eyes follow my every movement.

  I lick my lips. This is my moment. My mouth waters with anticipation and my panties go damp. I lean in slowly so he knows my intention. He doesn’t move or say a word. My lips graze his slowly with the hesitance of a virgin. I’m trembling as my fingers find the side of his face.

  I lean into the kiss with the fervor of a starving woman, which, essentially, I am. I’ve been starved for him, his touch, his mouth for years. He’s not as eager, but I chalk it up to him being taken off guard.

  When we part, I smile, though I keep my eyes closed. We both roll over without a word, but nothing ruins this moment.

  My plan is falling into place.

  Check and mate.

  Chapter 18

  I wake up alone, and I feel panic on the horizon. Where am I? What happened last night?

  Like a bad movie, the images come flooding back — the reality of my situation. I’m in Grayson’s house, Taylor is dead, Lexi is a whore.

  I’m amazed I was even able to get an ounce of decent sleep without bad dreams probing their way into my sleep. I’m convinced Grayson was my dreamcatcher, keeping away all the nightmares — both real and of the subconscious variety. It makes me want to spend every night by his side, and every day for that matter.

  It’s Saturday afternoon, and I still need to go get clothes, toiletries, and other necessities. I tiptoe out of the room and across the hall into the bathroom. There’s a toothbrush still in its packaging sitting on the sink and the gesture makes me smile. He’s always been so thoughtful.

  I brush my teeth thoroughly because I have the full intention to give him a thank you kiss. I throw my hair into a messy bun and make my way downstairs to find my man.

  I never look this unkempt around the girls. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. I always maintain a certain level of put-togetherness because anything less makes me vulnerable. Hell, even when I was around Taylor I made sure I was the epitome of class and perfection, from my clothes to my hair to my freaking temper. I tried my damnedest to never lose my cool and that’s just not the way to live.

  But with Grayson, everything is different. Not only have I known him for years, and he’s been my best friend through everything, which means he’s seen me at my lowest point. But I’m simply more comfortable around him. It feels natural to be myself, to be a little messy and not worry about putting on a show with every interaction. I’m happier, lighter, when I’m with him, and I don’t know why it took me this long to truly put that together.

  I mean, a part of me always knew. I always had a thing for him, and I’ve always been comfortable with him. So, while the feelings were definitely there, a larger part of me solidified him as my best friend for a number of reasons. For one, I thought he didn’t see me that way, as impossible as that is to imagine. And the larger part of me didn’t want to risk our friendship.

  But now everything is clear as crystal. The clarity of my realization slaps me in the face as if I should’ve seen it all along, and frankly, I should’ve. He’s always been my one. My person. My soulmate. Lexi should’ve never gotten her grimy little unkempt hands on him.

  I practically skip down the stairs, my steps so light as if I’m walking on clouds. I barely register the carpet under my naked feet because I’m flying down so fast. I don’t see or hear Grayson, but the smell of coffee emanates from the kitchen and bacon crackles and pops atop the stove.

  I peer into the kitchen and see Gray flipping the bacon with his back to me. Since he ha
sn’t spotted me yet, I’m able to take him in and check him out unabashed. He spins around abruptly to grab a different spatula off the island and catches me staring. I act shy, but truthfully I don’t care he caught me.

  “Morning.” I avert my eyes that were lingering on his ass but landed on his bulge as he spun around. I love a man in sweatpants.

  He ignores the fact that I was blatantly gawking at him and plasters on a smile that, considering the circumstances, is likely at least partially forced. “Good morning.”

  I saunter over to the island and clear a spot so I can hop up to sit on the countertop. “Are you cooking me breakfast?” I smirk even though he’s back to tending the food so he doesn’t see it.

  “I’m cooking us breakfast. I figured after the revelations yesterday we could both use a home-cooked meal.” Toast pops up out of the toaster and the unexpected sound makes me jump.

  Grayson’s mid-flip of his scrambled eggs and glances to the side at the toast. “I’ll get it,” I tell him and hop back down to the floor to butter the toast. It all feels so domestic. I like it. I can’t remember the last time Taylor cooked breakfast for me or I for him, if I’m being honest.

  I know my way around this kitchen so once the toast is buttered I get the plates out from the one cupboard, grab a mug from another one, and set the table. I make my coffee the way I like it and once the food is ready, he joins me at the table.

  Mid-bite I get a text from my mom. Seeing the message is causing me panic because even though I have a plan, I still eventually need to tell her and my daughter that Taylor is dead. The thought makes me lose my appetite. Lennon didn’t deserve this.

  Attached to the message is a picture of my daughter wearing a tiara and having a tea party. Accompanying the picture is text that reads, She misses you guys!

  I know she’s addressing Taylor and me. I told my mom we were going on another trip together up to the Cape. I’ll tell my mom the truth, or my version of it anyway, because I trust her implicitly. She’ll be upset, but she’ll understand. She was never the biggest fan of my husband to begin with. He tried to swoon her like he swoons everyone, but she saw right through him.

  Lucky for me, though, she’s totally in love with her granddaughter. What grandma isn’t, really? But she willingly offers to take Lennon every chance she gets. It helps Lennon is the best-behaved child to ever live, plus she’s cute, and she loves her grandparents and how they spoil her, mostly.

  Her text does get me thinking. I look over at my friend who is clueless to the turmoil occurring in my thoughts at the moment. He shovels eggs and bacon into his mouth, seemingly without a care in the world despite everything going on. I wish I could feel that level of peace.

  Maybe he doesn’t believe me. Maybe he doesn’t think Lexi would actually cheat on him. That doesn’t explain why he would sleep with me last night, but maybe that was solely because he is a chronic cheater.

  “Have you talked to Lexi at all?” He pauses his fork halfway to his mouth and glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Where did that come from?” He lowers his fork and glares at me, daggers shooting out of his eyes at the mere mention of his wife.

  I lift my head defiantly. He never uses that tone with me, and suddenly he seems angry I’m even here. I glare back at him, my brows raised in an are you really talking to me that way expression.

  “I just figured she’d have already reached out to you. I’m sure she assumed I’d tell you, I thought maybe she’d own up to her mistakes and tell you herself.” He looks away, and I can tell she hasn’t spoken to him at all. Maybe that’s why he’s so upset.

  “Look, forget I said anything. Let’s forget about them and use this time to catch up and hang out, like old times.” I gently place my hand on his forearm, coaxing him. He looks at me questioningly.

  “How are you so … okay? I mean, you’re the one that saw them together, and you’re acting like nothing even happened.” He’s still taking his anger out on me, but I guess that’s why people say don’t kill the messenger.

  He picks up his nearly-cleared plate and throws it into the sink with a clatter so loud I jump, afraid the glass shattered. His hands brace the edge of the sink and he hangs his head. He needs time to process everything, and I’m just getting in the way.

  “I’m gonna go. I need to shower and change anyway. Thanks for being there for me last night.” I place my own plate on the island and head upstairs to get my purse.

  Fuck. None of this is going as planned. As soon as I cross the threshold of my bedroom, I hear my name called.

  “Sage!” Grayson calls my name from downstairs. I lean out of my room, my head poking into the hallway. I watch him run up the stairs and my pulse quickens.

  Maybe this is it — it’s our time. He’s running to me, in mere seconds his lips will crash onto mine, and we’ll finally be us, who we were meant to be.

  I walk out to meet him. My lips tingle with anticipation. He’s three steps away. Two. One.

  “You forgot your phone.” He thrusts his hand toward me, my white iPhone resting in his palm.

  How do I always manage to read him so wrong? I know the signs are there. I’m not just creating them in my head. Yet, somehow he always throws me for a loop and I end up feeling like a goddamn idiot.

  “Thanks.” I yank the phone from his fingers and toss it angrily into my purse. I push by him, my frustration causing me to immaturely shoulder bump him as if I’m still the bitch in high school picking on the nerds.

  “I’ll call you later.” Grayson’s parting words trail down the stairs behind me like feathers tickling me uncomfortably.

  I half-run to my car and slam the door behind me. I hit the steering wheel, probably bruising my right hand in the process. Fuck. I need a new plan.

  Chapter 19

  I’m pulling into my driveway when my phone rings. I don’t even have to look at the caller ID to know it’s Grayson calling to apologize.

  “Hi.” I’m still upset with him and not willing to bend over backwards to appease him.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a lot for me to deal with. You need to give me some time to process.” I understand completely, but at the same time, I don’t. She cheated. End of story.

  “Give you time for what? What happens after you process everything? She cheated, Grayson. That should be enough.” I’m exasperated by how dense men can be, this one in particular.

  “Yeah, well, people make mistakes.” His implication is loud and clear. He made the same mistake, and now he’s just going to forgive her for it. That can’t happen. The truth is right on the tip of my tongue, begging for release.

  Still, I bite my tongue and ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my cheek for what feels like ages. “Yeah, I heard about that. You and your little secretary. How cliché, Grayson. How long were you with her?” When you could’ve been with me! File that under words I want to say but don’t.

  “You’re seriously going there, too? It was one time, and frankly it’s none of your goddamn business.” The words hit me like real, physical slaps.

  “I’m your best fucking friend, Gray. Why didn’t you tell me?” My sadness outweighs my anger in this moment. When did we drift so far apart he can’t even trust me with his secrets? His exploits with women were never off the table before Lexi came along.

  He sighs heavily, the emotion evident. “Go to dinner with me tonight.” I’m unable to keep up with his moods. It’s giving me whiplash. “If you’re up for it,” he adds hastily. “We can talk then. I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  I’ll give him that. This conversation is going downhill fast. I agree, and he says he’ll pick me up at seven. I only have a few hours to prepare mentally and physically for tonight. At dinner, I’ll tell Grayson how I feel about him. It’s time to give us a shot.

  *****

  I’m optimistic as I prepare for my date — err, dinner tonight. I brought my oversized handbag along because I have an extra pair of clothes
packed in case Gray invites me to stay over again. I have the feeling he will, so I’m prepared. Even if nothing happens between us, I can play the role of a beaten puppy well, and he’ll feel sorry for me. Win-win.

  I dressed casual in what I’m most comfortable wearing — all black. I have a black wrap-around jumpsuit on that ties in the front with a low-cut back. My black heels are my Louboutin’s with the red fading to black. The color pops brilliantly against the black ensemble, and I always look and feel fierce and confident as hell in these heels. The red in the shoes matches my red Birkin bag. I’m a force to be reckoned with.

  Grayson picks me up at slightly after seven, which irritates me but I’ll let it slide. I’m sure there’s a good explanation. He knows my obsession with punctuality so he wouldn’t be late if there wasn’t a good reason.

  I hop in the car and my best friend greets me with a not-a-care-in-the-world, megawatt smile. His cologne gently fills my nostrils and isn’t overbearing or nauseating. It’s nice. The moment is comfortable. I feel like everything is already back to normal.

  And I’m about to tear it all to shit with my admission.

  “Wow, you look amazing.” The compliment warms me from head to toe. I know I look good. I put careful effort into planning the entire ensemble. My black tresses are curled gently in beach-wave perfection and my smoky makeup is minimal yet still accentuates my eyes. And, of course, the classic red lip.

  “Thanks, so do you.” The awkward conversation feels very much first date-esque. I know there’s a boatload of topics we need to address tonight and most of them will be uncomfortable, so I’m going to revel in these good moments as long as I can.

  His cologne permeates my nostrils. The freshly aromatic scent is masculine with a woodsy smell while still maintaining a light, almost lavender aroma. It’s clean and entirely Grayson and the scent comforts me deep in my core.

  As I buckle my seatbelt, I eye him slowly but subtly from toe to head. White sneakers lead to gray jeans that hug his thighs deliciously. He has on a white and navy striped shirt under a navy bomber jacket, tying together the outfit with perfection. His face maintains a perfect, arousing level of scruff and his hair is flawlessly coiffed. Yeah, this is totally a date, and it’s obvious the feeling is finally mutual.