Page 30 of The Cabin

“Yes, world’s best teacher. In the flesh.” I point to myself and give a little bow.

“I bet you’re a killer teacher,” he declares, beginning to rock back and forth in his chair.

“What in the world would make you think that?”

“You don’t even bat an eyelash putting me in my place. Zero hesitation.” He gives me a lopsided grin. I roll my eyes. “No, I’m serious. My mom is a teacher. I feel like sometimes…you can just tell.”

I give him an unimpressed look. “Oh, so you can, what, read teacher auras now?” I make quotes with my fingers around, ‘teacher auras.’

“Correct. And I’m right like fifteen percent of the time, so.” He’s playing up his haughtiness. Playful Grayson. I need to start keeping track of the different Graysons and how often they appear.

“Sounds promising,” I quip. “What about you? Missing…whatever it is you do as the kind of engineer you are?” I am living in his house and I’ve never even asked him about his job.

His answering chuckle makes me think he forgives me for not asking before. “Civil engineer…I’m a bit of a cliché.” He gestures around us and back inside.

“Oohhh, so you’re not just magically perfect at building beautiful, rustic, mountain escapes. You have a whole ass degree in it.”

“Oh no, I’m still magically good at it. I’m magically good at a lot of things…”

“Mhhm. Yeah, sure. What’s your favorite thing to build?”

“I’ve worked on a lot of bridges. A ton of buildings in New York. But I like stuff like this way better. Cabins, lake homes, beach homes. Stuff with a little more character than sleek chrome and sharp lines.”

“Well you’ve knocked it out of the park here, that’s for sure.”

“You think so?”

“Duh! It’s beautiful. It’s unique. It’s homey.”

He considers this for a moment. “This didn’t feel like work, though. Therapy maybe, but not work. This kind of stuff is fun.”

“Work should be fun. I have no room to talk because there are plenty of times where my work is anything but fun, but overall I enjoy myself.”

“I’m hoping leaving the company will shake things up for me.”

I turn my head to look at him. “Well, I’ll be hoping that for you too.”

His lips form into a line and he clears his throat. “Thanks, Sol.”

I stand up to stack our bowls and take them into the cabin.

He follows me. “Are we going to fight about the dishes again?”

Racing around me, Grayson beats me to the sink, blocking it off by stretching his arms across the space. “No, because you’re gonna move aside and let me do them.”

“See, that was very teacher-like. I would know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, move.” I nudge him with my right leg and hip. It essentially does nothing. He doesn’t even seem to notice as he puts on an overly dramatic thinking face, finger tapping his chin.

“Okay, I’ll let you do the dishes as long as you agree to take the bedroom tonight.” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge. I have been very purposely not thinking about the sleeping situation. It had been one thing when I was drunk and slept in his bed, but now?

“Absolutely not. This is your place and I’m just the dirty, starved, and stranded puppy you found on the side of the road and took pity on. Just throw a dog bed on the ground. It’ll be like sleeping at the Radisson.” He is unmoved by my speech. We stare off, sizing each other up. Pick and choose your battles, right?

Unfortunately, I’m currently losing the one against his overly alluring eyes. I can hardly form a single thought when I get stuck in their mesmerizing web. Ya can’t win ‘em all.

I try to make my expression meaner, tougher. He crosses one leg over the other as if to say, ‘I’ll stand there all night if I have to.’

“Fine. I’ll take the bedroom,” I grit and his smug, self-satisfied smile slides right back onto his face.

---