Darcy Freaking Grayson

Chapter 14

I don't meet Grayson at our make-out spots anymore. I can't - it feels too weird after our talk after the presentation. I'd shared things with him I hadn't expected to and he'd shared waaaaay more than what I'd expected of him.

We are friends now, I decide. Friends. And friends do not make out with each other. It's damaging and unhealthy and toxic. Even if said friend kisses like a sex god.

I also decide that he needs more than just me as a friend and that he needs to get over his stupid, try-hard emo-loner lifestyle.

Translation, I force him to sit with me and my friends at lunch. I'm glad that I do - he sorely needs them. Especially since all of his friends back in the UK hate him for some unknown reason that I DESPERATELY want to know. It obviously has something to do with Abby... but what?

Yet, I am Darcy Whitmore, an amazing friend, so I restrain from asking.

Yeah, I know. I must like Grayson a LOT if I'm not bugging him about his super-big secret.

So, he sits with us for the week and I'm not surprised that Matt and Tristan befriend him immediately. Fern has also taken a great shining to him, probably because their try-hard tortured souls speak to one another. And so, as I sit at lunch with Lucia and (vomit) Joe Cohen, I watch as Grayson laughs.

It makes me happy. Whenever I catch his eye, I give him a huge smile just so that he knows I'm still here for him - and that I'm (I know, I know, I'm super cheesy) proud of him.

And I'm even more proud when Matt asks him to come join us at the under-aged club this Friday and Grayson actually says: 'yeah, maybe'.

Progress! YAY!

So, in Modern History, I have to convince him to come and it takes me begging for a solid ten minutes before he reluctantly agrees.

Man, I am just amazing.

And now, it's Friday night and we're all dancing (even DARCY FREAKING GRAYSON) and I watch as Matt and Tristan laugh at something he says and I might be just a SMIDGE drunk because I walk over and start dancing with him.

And it's great. It's our usual - his hands at my waist, mine tangled in his hair - and I'm hit with the overwhelming urge to press my lips against his... but I don't.

I know, disappointment. But we're FRIENDS now! No kissing, remember?

I even tell him that.

"We're friends now, Grayson! Friends!" I shriek in his ear, laughing and giddy off of the music. The bass pounds in my skull and the flashing lights make my head spin in an exhilarating way. The back room is smoky, the smell of cigarettes and weed hazy in the air.

I can feel more than hear Grayson laugh - his body shakes, pressed up to mine.

He leans down to reply, his lips agonisingly close to my neck. "Friends with Darcy Whitmore. Who would've thought?" he says, his breath tingling my ear. I shiver, giggling.

"It's crazy. The Drama Queen and the Brooding-Emo-Loner," I joke as his lips start to press light kisses down my neck. I shudder, melting in his arms. "Grayson, friends don't kiss," I say, though my voice suggests otherwise.

"Well, I'm not kissing you," Grayson says, his lips grazing up my neck, across my jaw and fluttering over my ear.

Oh damn. I tighten my grip on his hair.

"True," is all I can manage say.

We stay like that until Matt convinces everyone to come back to his house. I stumble down the street with Grayson, thanking the lord I didn't wear unreasonable shoes tonight. The night is cold, winter nearly in full swing, but next to Grayson, I don't seem to mind.