𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

[𝟐𝟑] 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

The moment I leave my room, sunlight burns my eyes. My room is the darkest in the house and Ray and Annie like to think having the sun in the middle of our house is the ideal way to start the morning. I obviously disagree because I'd much rather be blowing bubbles in the bathtub in my dim-lit bathroom like a child than be out in the living room right now.

But beggars can't be choosers. Did I ever really beg though?

"Good morning, hotty," Annie calls from the couch. I nod my head in acknowledgment, waving at Easton who's currently trying to braid our dog's hair. He pays me no attention as his tongue juts to the outside corner of his mouth like he can't take his eyes off of his work.

"How'd you sleep?" Ray asks me, coming up from behind me and grabbing me a mug. I shrug, taking my cup and hers and pouring us coffee.

"It was alright," I admit. "Amelie kept scratching at my door and whining though so I'm going to need a nap later."

"You always need a nap." She rolls her eyes. I narrow mine at her, taking both the cups of coffee with me.

"Looks like this belongs to me, then." I shrug, moving to feign a sip from her mug. Ray-Ray being the huge germaphobe she is, practically dives for the cup, smacking the back of my head when her cup is safe in her possession.

"You're seriously not funny, Grace."

"I'm hilarious." I narrow my eyes at her, leaning up to open the cabinet where the to-go cups are. "Hey, East? You mind helping me, the dwarfism is winning here."

I hear him choke out a laugh before he makes his way over to me. I move out of his way as he reaches up and grabs my favorite cup. This has become a regular occurrence so he knows exactly which cups I like. Hell, he even picks one based on my mood if he thinks it'll help my day sometimes.

Easton's like that. Very thoughtful and caring. He's the very definition of a '🥺' boy, though he'd never admit it. He's the kind of hot that makes him look like he's a dickhole when in reality he just has a resting bitch face that contrasts with his kind heart.

"Gracias," I say.

"You still suck at that." He tells me, chuckling. I raise a brow at him expectantly, annoyance taking over my features as I looked him up and down.

"K, you can leave now."

He rolls his eyes, nudging me playfully as he walks past me and back over to his girlfriend, my sister, and my dog.

Something about Easton that I love is the way he acts like he's my brother. My best friend. At first, I wholeheartedly believed that it was just his personality, that he's just nice. But then I saw how he is with other people. If you didn't know him as well as I do, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between his friends and acquaintances. But the more you get to know him, the more apparent it is by the way he acts and how comfortable he is in engaging and touching you.

What I mean by him touching you is that he's a relatively touchy person. Not in a perverted way, of course, but in the kind of way that you can tell how he feels by the way he's touching you. For instance, when he's around me, he likes propping his elbow on my shoulder, showing he's comfortable with me and the people around him.

But other times, he might just have his hand on my shoulder, which he does when we're in larger groups, showing that he's uncomfortable and rather not be in the vicinity of so many people. If you can't tell yet by how I'm describing him, he has social anxiety.

Fun, right?

It's not as bad as it was when I first met him, which is all thanks to Ray and her whole outgoing, playful manner. All the times we'd go out, she'd force East to come with us. She taught him how to express how he feels through body language, which is where the whole shoulder touching thing came from.