All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Thirty-Two

        Shuffling through the dark, I finally made my way out of the hallway and into the enormous main room. Had it still been completely dark, I definitely would've twisted my ankle or tripped over something. But thankfully, the dim kitchen lights were on, and I was surprised to see Grayson leaning against the counter.

        "What are you doing up?" I asked, wondering if he had a nightly routine of hiding in his own kitchen.

        He gave me a tired smile. "Couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd get a glass of milk."

        "You drink milk?" I asked, giving him a strange look.

        He gave me one in return, noting, "It helps you sleep." 

        "Yeah...but it's gross," I pointed out. What psychopath just drinks straight-up milk?

        "Well I rather like it," Grayson said staunchly, bringing the glass to his lips in defiance. "And I haven't exactly heard why you're awake, Miss Judgmental." 

        "Can't sleep," I said gruffly, opening the fridge. "Need a snack." I wasn't sure if a snack would actually solve my problems, since the truth was a much scarier thought to admit.

        "We've got those fruit gummy snacks you like," he said, nodding to the cupboard—while also pouring himself yet another glass of milk. Weirdo. 

        "Oh, thanks," I said, except I didn't head to the cupboard. Instead I leaned on the counter across from him, staring blankly into space.

        Grayson finally set down the milk, frowning. "You okay, Jacks?"

        "Fine. You normally have trouble sleeping?" I asked, turning the conversation back on him. 

        He shuffled his bare feet. "Ah, no. Usually I'm out pretty quickly. But I've been trying to sleep for four hours and nothing's helped," he confessed.

        "Huh." I didn't have much to say...considering I was going through the same thing. Briefly, I wondered if he had the same reasons for a lack of sleep, but then immediately swatted it away. 

        I dug out a string cheese from the fridge and munched on it, neither of us saying much more. Finally Grayson washed his milk glass and said, "I guess I'll go back to bed then. Night."

        "Night," I said through a mouthful of cheese. 

        Things were almost safe when he stopped halfway through the living room. He quickly turned around and ran back to the kitchen, his hands jammed in his pajama pant pockets.

        "Is there any tiny, minuscule chance you want to come sleep in my room?" Grayson asked, sounding a little stressed. 

        "I thought the whole point was that we don't have to sleep together," I said, my face only a little hot.

        "Yeah, but if neither of us can sleep—you know, forget it. Pretend I didn't say anything," he said, abruptly changing his mind.

         Hating myself, I called after him, "You sure you wouldn't mind?"

        He turned and shook his head. "I-I think I've gotten used to having you right there," he said, blushing.

        The milk was messing up his brain. "Okay, yeah," I said, finishing off my string cheese. At this point I was tired enough to try anything. 

        Before he got into bed next to me, I noticed that he set the temperature a little warmer. Choosing annoyance, I said, "What, you're too cold?"