Page 22 of Enemies with my Bestie’s Brother
“Grayson, this isn’t the time or the place for this discussion,” I start, but I’m interrupted by him placing a hand on the side of my face.
We stare into each other's eyes for a moment before his lips are suddenly on mine, hot and intentional. His tongue traces my lower lip quickly before he pulls back.
Just as his hand drops from my face, Penny walks back in.
“Oof, sorry guys, I didn’t mean to leave you with all the clean-up. He is a bit of a bear when he wakes up in the middle of a deep sleep.” She gets to work clearing wine glasses.
Does she not sense the tension in the room? Or is it only Grayson and I that can feel it?
Chapter Nine
Grayson
Ican’tbelieveIkissed her. It’s not like I can even blame it on the wine because I barely had any. Whitney just has a hold on me, something that I can barely control. It’s almost infuriating, how much I’m pulled towards her.
I’ve been avoiding Penny’s apartment for the past few days, trying to get my thoughts together before I see Whitney again. How can I control my whims when I’m constantly around her, enchanted by her willowy figure and long blonde hair? At this point, she runs laps in my mind, constantly occupying it even when she’s not around.
My thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening and closing, followed by soft footsteps padding along the floor. I turn from my seat on the couch to see Whitney carrying an enormous box. Just as she almost topples over under the weight of it, I rush off the couch and grab the box from her.
“Ugh, thanks. It was a little bit heavier than I anticipated,” she says as she looks up at me, her ice-blue eyes framed against the light purple shadows underneath them.
She must not be sleeping well. Why is that?
“Whitney, I’d like to speak with you,” I say as I set the box down in what’s going to be my new whiskey lounge and library. It’s looking great already, the walls painted a deep burgundy color that contrasts perfectly with the light wooden floors. She’s thrown a Persian-style rug on the sand-colored wood that is a similar shade as the walls, giving the space an old-world charm. I try to take a look in the box to see what items she’s brought, but she abruptly pinches me on the arm.
“Don’t peek. I want you to see it put together, not in the box. What do you want to talk about? And make it quick, please, I have a lot of work to do.” She taps her foot impatiently.
“I wanted to apologize for kissing you the other night. I regret doing something like that out of the blue. It was very inappropriate, and not at all the time or place for something like that,” I tell her.
She’s quiet for just a couple of seconds before crinkling her eyebrows together at me.
“So, are you going to do it then?”
“Do what?”
“Um, apologize? Like you said you wanted to?” Whitney asks as she rolls her eyes.
Does she have short-term memory loss?
“I just did.” I know my tone is short as I reply, but I don’t have much patience for games like this.
“No, you didn’t, actually. You said you wanted to apologize. Telling me you want to apologize and actually apologizing are two different things.” She stares at me pointedly.
I sigh, mostly because I’m annoyed with her, but also because she’s right. They are two different things, and I feel silly knowing that I’ve just now learned that.
“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry for kissing you the other night.”
Whitney looks at me with a sarcastic smile.
“Look at you, growing and learning. You’ll be a functioning member of society before we know it, Grayson Gould,” she says as she turns to unpack her box.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Because I apologized for kissing you, and for some reason, you seem more pissed at me?” I ask as I lean against the door frame.
Whitney huffs before turning around to face me.
“I just don’t understand you, Grayson. One minute you’re asking me to dinner, the next you’re kissing me in your sister's dining room, and another minute you’re apologetic and regretful. It’s confusing. You need to gather your thoughts and make up your mind, preferably before I start working on your office because otherwise, things are going to keep getting more complicated,” she states. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Please vacate.”
I stare at her for a moment longer until she makes a little shooing motion with her hands. I head back to the kitchen and think about what just happened. Her response has certainly left me stunned. I thought she would be grateful to hear me apologize for kissing her, especially considering how she avoided agreeing to have dinner with me the other night. But, there was certainly no gratitude coming from that conversation. In fact, I have now somehow made it worse. I never thought that I wasn’t good with women, but every day Whitney has me questioning myself, wondering if maybe I’ve been doing things wrong this entire time.
