"Money, Money, Money" [2] G. Hawthorne

28 - it's Kayla bitch

*time skip cause i feel like it*

"Anyone up for strip bowling?" Jameson randomly burst in.

Grayson and I were in my room together, trying to work out what the hell we were.

He had told me about Skye.

"I don't need you to protect me!" I insisted.

"No you don't but that doesn't mean I won't."

"I got into university." I blurted.

"What?"

"At London." 

"WHAT?"

then there was more explanation and apologies and arguments.

"I'm sorry I would've told you but you and I weren't exactly on good terms!"

******************

This is a horrible idea," Grayson said. For a second or two, he and Jameson engaged in a silent standoff.

"Then why are you here?" Jameson volleyed back, waltzing over to pick out a dark green bowling ball with the

Hawthorne crest on it. "No one is forcing you to play." Grayson didn't move, and neither did I.

"So theoretically," Lena said, "I want to knock over either zero pins or only one—whichever I can manage without putting the ball in the gutter?"

When Jameson answered, his green eyes locked on to Avery's. "Theoretically."

******************

Grayson and I were in his room now, I was in his lap, straddling him and he was kissing me.

"Gray..."

So strip bowling was a horrible idea but from where I was it didn't feel like it.

"We don't have to be anything love, but if I want to survive I need to kiss you at least once if not several times before you leave and I go to Harvard. I'll always love you Kayla, my heart beats for you, know that." He told me.

"I love you too Grayson." I choked out.

********************

2 days later

I had an interview because apparently my "dad" and Skye were sleeping together and that needed to be addressed by me. Not them. Me

I am so not ready for this.

"Kayla, let's start with you. Walk us through what happened the day Tobias Hawthorne's will was read."

That was a softball question. Gratitude. Awe. Relatability. I could do this—and I did. Grayson answered his first softball question just as easily.

He even managed to make eye contact with me the first time he said my name.

We got two more softballs apiece before Monica moved on to trickier territory. "Kayla, let's talk about your mother."

"She was wonderful," I said fiercely. "I would give anything for her to be here now."

Despite the occasional neglect at the end of the day she was my mom.

That was short, and it was sincere—but it also opened me up to a follow-up. "You must have heard some of the... rumors."

That my mom was living under a fake name. That she was a con artist. I couldn't lose my temper. Spin the question. That was what I was supposed to do: Start talking about my mother but end up talking about how grateful and awed and godamn normal I was.