To Those Who Know Me | Grant Gustin • #Wattys2016

(15). The End.

The next day, Grant and I go and get ice cream, and he smiles.

"So. What would you think if I said that your uncle said I could live with you guys." I look at him, swallowing.

"Well, I'd say you're crazy because my uncle treats me as his daughter and he's been so protective since the incident. But if he had a sudden change if heart, I'd still say you're crazy because that's unbelievable." I say, taking a bite.

"Well. Since you've said that I'm crazy twice, I'll take the second choice." He smirks. My ice cream nearly falls, as I try to wrap my head around what he said.

"No way." I say, finally managing to come up with words.

"Yes way. And, I'm sorry, but guess who gets to help?" I laugh.

"Twenty dollars says its me." I smile. He sighs and hands me a twenty dollar bill. I put it in my pocket, kissing his cheek.

"Yea, yea, yea... Please?" He asks.

"I was going to help anyway. So what room did he assign you to? Because I highly doubt that he said you can sleep in my room." I say, pointing my spoon at him. He chuckles.

"That's funny because that's the exact room I'm stealing." He says, laughing. My jaw drops and I dump my carton in the trash, licking my fingers.

"First one back to the truck gets to drive!" I cry, running. He follows behind, with everyone wondering what the hell was wrong with us.

"I win!" I cry, touching the truck. He laughs and pulls me close, and kisses me.

"Fine. I guess you can carry less as well." He shrugs. He lets me go, climbing into the passengers seat. I get behind the wheel, and drive over to his place. We pack up most of his things, his clothing and video games taking up the most space in a box. He had already sold most of his other things: pots, pans, furniture, décor and other things.

"Well, that's the last of it." We put the boxes in the back of my truck, and put a bungee cord on top, just to make sure nothing spilled out. We get home, and my uncle comes and laughs.

"Three boxes, Grant?" He nods. My uncle carries the one with his video games in it, both of us telling him not to drop it. Grant gives me the box that held his Xbox, telling me with great caution not to break it.

"Dude. Seriously?" I groan and walk to the basement, and hand it to my uncle.

"Plug it in will you? He's going to want to play later." I say, heading back upstairs. I find him in our kitchen, eating a cookie.

"Kris!" I laugh, as he hides the box.

"Uh huh, do you want me to carry your things, Mr. Gustin?" I ask, smiling.

"Yes?" He asks, mouth full of cookie.

"Ok, dork. Whatever." I grab the box and heave it upstairs, putting everything where they belong, and lay on my bed.

I get up after a few moments, and head to my writing room, peaceful and quiet. Until the knock came.

"Can I pretty please come in?" Grant asks, pleadingly.

"Ugh, fine. You're going to pester me anyway, just come on in." I lay on my pillow chair, which is made of pillows on the ground, hence the name.

"Hello." He says, smiling and closing the door. I smile back, and look down at my paper, and begin writing. He peers over my shoulder.

"If you're going to be nosy, go away." I lightly push on his chest, closing my notebook.

"Fine. I'll go play games with your uncle!" I laugh.