Page 7 of Eleanor & Grey

“Come on,” Landon persisted. “You owe me for Stacey White.”

Greyson sighed. He sighed again. Then one more long, dragged-out exhalation. “Fine.”

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no…

I tried to absorb the words of my book, but my peripheral vision stared at his shoes as he approached. Of course, he was wearing Nike shoes, because everything about Greyson was a cliché. He might as well have been modeling them for an ad. When those crisp, not-even-creased-yet shoes paused in front of me, I reluctantly looked up.

Now his eyes were staring at me.

Those gray eyes…

They were the kind of gray you thought only existed in overwrought romance novels where the hero looked a little too perfect. No one truly had gray eyes. I’d been alive for sixteen years and I had never come across a boy with a gray stare other than Greyson. Light blue? Sure. Green? Yeah, sometimes, but Greyson’s eyes were so far from anything else I’d ever seen. I understood the appeal.

On the receiving end of his gray stare and that smile, I understood why most girls melted into a puddle of helplessness around him.

Oh, God, make it stop.

He gave me a slight wave when we made eye contact, along with a tiny crooked smirk, and it annoyed me. Those smirks might’ve worked on the Stacey Whites of the world, but they didn’t work on me. I looked down at my book, trying to ignore him.

But those shoes stayed in place. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lowering, and lowering, and lowering his body before he was kneeling right in front of me. He waved again, with the same forced smile.

“Hey, Eleanor, what’s up?” he said, almost as if we’d always talked and he was just checking in to catch up.

I muttered under my breath.

He arched an eyebrow. “Did you say something?”

For the love of all things right in the world, did he not see my headphones and my book? Did he not know it was June 21, 2003? Why did no one seem to understand the importance of binge-reading a novel the second it hit your fingertips?

I hated this world sometimes.

“I said don’t.” I took off my headphones. “Just don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” I gestured between us. “I know Landon told you to come talk to me to get to Shay, but it’s a lost cause. I’m not interested, and neither is Shay.”

“How did you hear what we were saying with headphones on?”

“Easy—I wasn’t playing anything.”

“Then why wear the headphones?”

OHMYGOSHCANYOUJUSTGOAWAY?

There was nothing worse than when an extrovert tried to understand the deep corners of an introvert’s mind.

I released a heavy sigh. “Look, I get it—you’re trying to be a good friend and all, but I’m honestly just trying to read my book in peace and be left alone.”

Greyson ran his hands through his hair like a freaking shampoo model. I swore he did it in slow motion as the nonexistent wind blew through it. “Okay, but can I, like, just hang here next to you for a few minutes? Just so Landon thinks I’m doing him a favor?”

“I don’t care what you do. Just do it quietly.”

He smiled and holy crap, it was an easy smile to like.

I went back to reading my book as Greyson sat beside me. Every now and then, he’d say, “Just talking your way so Landon thinks we’re buddies.”

---