Page 23 of The Cabin

“Thank you.”

Grayson watches me for a moment before his expression softens. “Just eat, Sol.” The words come out gentler than before. Progress.

We eat in a somewhat comfortable, but also not really comfortable, silence. Grayson is very much still in a mood and I feel equal parts exasperated and curious. He’s only ever been goofy or genuine around me. He’s been playful and fun. He’s been vulnerable and extremely kind. But he’s never been so demanding. So dark and broody. And while I recognize that it is totally out of left field and not at all acceptable behavior…I also recognize that I am nothing but hormones floating around in a body, because it is kinda freaking hot.

No mood, no matter how broody or hot, can stop me from devouring this food, though. And I think my miniscule amount of energy should be spent focusing on that. Gotta recharge so I can spiral about the events of last night. It’s all about balance.

I take peeks at Grayson from the corner of my eye. It is still very early, and we’re eating a delicious breakfast, but he is so goddamn tense. He’s stabbing his pancakes with so much force you can hear the fork pierce all the way through and scrape the plate every single time. From where I’m standing, I’m the one who should be moody! And you don’t see me decimating my bacon into a million pieces. He literally threw me over his shoulder and made me leave the bar. What the hell is he pissed about? That he pulled a muscle lifting me up? Sounds very much like a ‘you’ problem, pal.

I am, however, pretty impressed when we finish all the food. Every last bite. He is a very good eating partner. Supportive, a team player, never leaves a crumb. Can cook. Check and check!

Before he can protest and get even more demand-y, I pop out of my seat, pause for a second to make sure I don’t throw up, and cart all the dishes to the sink.

“Sol, I’ve got it.” Grayson approaches my right side, towering over me. His scent is so strong this close up.

Focus, girl. I place a hand on his chest stopping his advance. “Contrary to popular belief, even wives whose husbands didn’t want them know how to wash dishes, Grayson.” Was that comment pro or anti-feminist? I was going for pro. Regardless, I think I’m regaining the strength to have an attitude again. God bless chocolate chip pancakes.

“I obviously know you can wash dishes,Sol. I just don’t want you to do them.” The emphasis he puts on my name makes me very annoyed. He’s mocking me.

“Get over yourself.” I return to soaping up a sponge and grab the closest plate.

“No.” He reaches around me to turn the water off.

“What is wrong with you?” My eyebrows start to hurt from how fiercely they’re pushed together.

“I don’t want you in my kitchen!”

“You’re being such a baby!”

“I think I’m allowed to decide who gets to be in my kitchen.”

I’m feeling a blossoming rage take over my body. There might even be a little tequila left to spice things up. “You do realize I wouldn’t even be in your kitchen if you hadn’t forced me to sleep here last night, right?”

“I couldn’t leave you at your cabin by yourself, you would’ve fallen into your coal stove or something.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I don’t even know how to use that thing.”

He’s very angry. “You haven’t been heating your cabin?”

“It’s been warm! It’s June.”

Shaking his head and throwing his arms up he says, “Not up here in the mountains! It’s been like forty degrees at night.”

“Not every night. Like one or two.”

“So, we’re in agreement then? You can’t be trusted to keep yourself safe in your own cabin, and it was best to have you stay here for the night.”

“I’m not a fucking baby deer, Grayson. I’m a fully functioning adult. I’ve survived the last few days, haven’t I?”

He just scoffs and looks away.

“Hey! You’re being rude.” I grab the spray hose from where it’s sitting and give him a little spritz. He goes very still. Like scarily still.

“See? This is why I had to carry you out of the bar last night. You make stupid, immature decisions.” We are still so close. I can feel his breath fanning over my face. And it’s worse now that his chest is rising and falling from how worked up he’s gotten.

“Uh, news flash, I didn’t need to be carried out. I was having a great time and you ruined it!”

“That’s your idea of a good time?” I am beyond bewildered at how absurd he’s being. This is so unlike him. Well, unlike the guy I’ve known for six days anyway. We’ve had our misunderstandings, but he’s never been this grumpy. Demanding. Stormy.

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