Handle With Care

14

Dancing with Greyson was everything I wanted it to be. He made me feel weightless. I felt like I was in the sky even when both of my feet were planted firmly on the ground. But when the song ended and reality set in, something told me it was over, and so instead of allowing myself to linger, I went back over to where my parents had been sitting and forced myself not to look back. I had been doing a pretty good job, too, but now Greyson was about to give a speech about his father, and I was terrified of looking into his eyes. I knew it was ridiculous to believe that when he spoke to this crowd full of faces, he would somehow find mine, but I was worried nonetheless.

The music stopped as Greyson raised a microphone to his mouth. He looked so out of place standing in the middle of this yard preparing to tell everyone about a man he barely knew. It almost made me feel guilty for avoiding him and snapping at him because really, it wasn't his fault my feelings weren't requited. It was my fault for believing there was a possibility that they were.

"On behalf of my father," Greyson spoke, his voice shaky. "I would like to say thank you for this honor, but speaking for myself, I would like to say that it comes as no surprise. Robert Archibalt is an intelligent, caring man. He has made a great impact on this community, and he is the last person who deserved to have fallen ill. My father and I may have abnormal circumstances, but we are family nonetheless. I know this, because we are all his family. He treats this town like he treats his own blood. He did not just receive this honor - he earned it."

Clapping began as Greyson ducked away and Peyton's father reclaimed the microphone, capturing everyone's attention but mine. I was too busy watching in concern as Greyson headed over to the beverages, gripping onto the table. As soon as he chugged a glass of something and began to pour another, I was on my feet.

I bit my tongue to keep from calling out his name, not wanting to cause a scene. Everyone was already shooting me looks of disapproval as I severed through the guests to get to the beverage table.

"Greyson," I said when I finally got there. He didn't look up as he chugged another glass, slamming it onto the table when he finished. "Don't do this."

"Such fucking bullshit," He muttered, reaching for another bottle. "If they wanted a speech about my father, they should've asked his fucking butler. I don't know shit about him. The only family I've ever had is my body and my mind. Sometimes I was kicked out of homes so quickly that I didn't even have a chance go grab my bag."

My heart sank upon hearing his alcohol coated confession. I was so selfish to spend tonight thinking about my feelings for him when he was dealing with so much more.

"I wasn't even going to RSVP," He continued. "But then you said you were going and I thought, 'How bad can it be? You'll give a quick speech and then you can spend time with Rosalie. Maybe this will even make you feel some sort of connection to your father, or to anyone. Maybe you can finally stop living like any second you're going to have to pack up and move.'"

His drunken state caused a vulnerability and honesty that I had never seen in him before. As much as I wanted to hear his story and his thoughts, I knew I had to get him out of here.

"I'm calling a cab," I told him, punching a number into my phone.

As I spoke to the taxi service employee, I watched Greyson out of the corner of my eye to make sure he stayed put. He was back to clutching the table in frustration, and I tried to ignore the pang in my heart as I gave the woman on the line Peyton's address.

Hanging up the phone, I told Greyson, "They'll be here soon. Let's wait out front."

He followed me silently, seeming lost in his thoughts. I wanted to ask him about his childhood and his feelings and everything else I could possibly think of, but I knew it was selfish to take advantage of his current state. If he wanted me to know any of those things, he would have told me. I had to accept that.