Shifting Gears

29. No More Implied Nonsense

We were both quiet. I was willing the tears to stop forming. I hated I was letting my emotions overtake me, but the frustration and mental exhaustion from this summer was just piling up.

I felt so uncomfortable standing here, feeling like I was being scrutinized by Greyson for him to figure out if he wanted to be with me, that I just turned without a word. Wiping my face harshly, my feet moved quickly back off the porch.

Before I could reach the step, a hand grabbed my arm, stopping me. Then it pulled, hard enough that I went stumbling back, turning around to keep my balance, and crashed right into Greyson.

He'd pulled me close, desperate hands grabbing at my back and my neck, crashing his lips onto mine.

He was hungry, and I was too. There were still unspoken words to decipher, still confusion and things we needed to sort, but this is a language we spoke clearly enough.

His fingers wiped away any remaining tears on my cheek, holding my face tightly as his lips moved against mine, my body curving, flush against him but he still tried to pull me closer.

His mouth was soft, his hands warm on me. He smelled like cedar wood and tasted like whatever alcohol was in those cups at the party.

Greyson paused for a breath, our hearts pounding in the still night, and he whispered raggedly as he leaned against my forehead, "You're unbelievably stubborn and you can make me madder than your brother can in half the time."

"Oh, shut it." I cut off conversation by kissing him again, harder than the last time.

His hands roamed my body, pulling me even closer. He turned slowly, then walked backward and I followed, tripping over his feet and losing my balance. We stumbled our way along the wall until we reached the end of the porch where a loveseat and two armchairs filled the space. Greyson half-fell into the loveseat, and the wicker creaked as he pulled me on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips.

I let my hands wrap around his neck, my fingers lacing themselves with his hair and tilting his head up to mine.

I hated how easily he could rile me up. But Lord knows this boy could light up every single molecule of my body on fire in one second, one kiss, one touch.

"So," I gasped, pulling away for one moment, my heart pounding throughout my body, "does this mean yes? You do want to be with me?"

"Oh, shut it," he murmured mockingly, pulling my face back down to him. We got lost in each other, breathless and desperate.

His hands continued to roam my back, slipping underneath the t-shirt, his fingers hot against my skin. They wandered until finding my waist, my shirt inching up so that I shivered as the cool night breeze whispered against my lower back. His thumbs brushed against my ribcage, pulling the shivers around and settling them into my stomach like a pack of butterflies. My hands fell onto his shoulders, and he nudged my face up, his lips finding my neck, biting the soft skin before planting a kiss on it right after. His fingers traced fire up my stomach, and my eyes gently closed.

I think I had a legitimate heart attack when something pounded against the window to the right of the loveseat, looking into the living room.

I yelped and shot upright, leaning back and awkwardly trying to stand up before realizing my knees were locked on either side of Greyson, but I'd already lost balance and started falling backwards. Greyson pushed himself forward and grabbed my waist, but I ended up just pulling us both down onto the wooden porch with a loud crash.

Greyson was sprawled out on top of me, but sat up quickly to look at the window.

Champ panted right inside, his paws on the window from when he jumped up at it.