HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

TWENTY-FIVE.

GRAYSON PULLS SAPPHIRE'S WEIRDLY APPEALING and expensive cat food - he spends a lot of this lazy munchkin, it's basically his son - out of the of microwave and places it on the floorboards. He watches in admiration as the feline devours this food quite. . .un-felinely.

Grayson pats its head while it shakes vigorously, gobbling his meal like it's the end of the world. Well maybe it got its feeding habits from it's owner, or Grayson might just have forgotten his meal time while binge-watching The Walking Dead.

Shifting the strawberry lollipop in mouth to the other side, he examines and savors his gorgeous through the little mirror he pulled from my back pocket.

Grayson has no idea why he is doing this but his confidence and charisma is definitely not gonna waver. No matter how intimidating he seems to be, he must be Grayson Hermes Jackson.

"You can do this. You're better than him. Say it. I'm better than him! I'm more handsome, charming, maybe not richer but I'm smarter. Yes, I am. I'm Gray fuckin Jay. Yas bitch."

His crappy pep talk eventually ends up in him face-fucking his own reflection in the most obnoxious way. He puckers his lips, flexes his brows, rolls his eyeballs, bares his teeth, shakes his hair and all those shit till he begins to wonder whether he is even bisexual at all. The homo in his DNA is most definitely 80:20 to the hetero, if not more.

His mom leans on the doorframe that leads to the kitchen with an amused look on her not-so-surprisingly bright face. She is wearing a woolen bathing robe. Her straight waist-length stark platinum blonde hair is brushed sideways. She holds a steaming coffee cup while exhibiting a blinding grin.

Grayson trades it with his more-elated-than-amused one and engulfs her in a hug. Three days ago, she started to get better and Grayson couldn't be more happy. Seeing her almost complete makes him so crazy he just wants to run straight to school butt-naked and kiss Mrs. Callaghan and slam the lockers noisily and fart on the hall monitor's face and hump the principal's table...

"Well someone is a little too excited to go on this date." Her signature raspy voice echoes weakly through the kitchen.

"Mom what the- No. This is not a date. I would never- bleh- no no." Me, on a date with him? Over my dead body.

"Seems to me like it is." She coolly states while sitting on a dining seat, legs and fingers crossed literally on the coffee mug which had texts written in cursive letters, MAMA IS BAE FOREVAE- it was her 30th birthday present from Grayson.

"Whatever, it can never happen." Grayson melodramatically waves my arms around, already getting pissed off.

"So is it that boy?" her azure irises glint in interest.

"Nope. This is another." she frowns. "Do I need to remind you again that this isn't a date?"

She merely waves me off. "So tell me about this Alejandro- is it?"

Grayson can already feel butterflies flutter in his belly as she mentioned his name. Why do people call them butterflies anyways? Because what he is feeling will require a critical look to get that these aren't butterflies but bees. They are numerous, radiating a sickly sweet sensation and at the same time, painfully stinging him with wistful pleasure. It is painful yet, enthralling.