Talia:
There is nowhere to sit.
Well, that's not entirely true, I just don't know how a freshman would feel if I walked up and sat next to them. Surely they would be weirded out, which is why there is nowhere to sit at lunch. This is unfortunate.
I scan the lunchroom and my normal table is vacant. Quinn and Jess are sick—which is just code word for skipping—and Cassie...she's not speaking to me and I'm not speaking to her. For good reasons. Cas sits with what I guess is her new groupie, Allison and Penny. Doesn't she know I hate Allison? Okay, not totally hate, but I definitely have some beef ever since she raised her hand in class to remind the teacher that there was homework, knowing full well I didn't have it with me. It was sabotage. And now she is conversing with the enemy. It's not like it matters, considering I don't want to be around Cas anymore.
My black lunch bag hangs in my hands as I try to find any possible person who I can tolerate for the next thirty minutes. I probably look like a lost child, standing and searching.
Just when I'm about to settle for a freshman table, I spot a familiar head of dark-brown hair and a grumpy face. My heart picks up, and before I can think twice, I'm walking towards him.
"Can I sit here?" I ask once I'm at the head of the table.
Rowan, Jake, and Grayson all look up at me upon hearing my voice. The latter turns his head towards Jake. "Move."
"Me?" Jake questions, drawing out the word dramatically. He sits right next to Grayson, leaving an open seat beside Rowan. "There's a spot next to Rowan, have Lia sit there."
If looks could kill, Jake would die in an instant from Grayson's wrath. I swear that goosebumps form on my arms.
"Dumbass, he wants to sit next to her," Rowan says. "Use your brain."
Jake rolls his eyes. "Maybe I want to sit next to Graysie-boy."
"I'll sit wherever—," I try to state.
"No," Grayson firmly says. "Move, Jake. I sit with you all the fucking time during class."
"It's not the same," Jake says in the most sad voice ever. I'm going to need him to teach me his ways. Imagine all of the free stuff I can get with that. Anyways, for I second I think Jake is going to say something super heartfelt about wanting to be next to Grayson, but I should have know better. "How will I be able to steal your fries from across the table?"
We all look at his tray of fries. "You've been stealing my fries?" he begins to say. When our attention directs back to Jake, we all notice three fries being stuffed into his mouth. "Hey!"
We all laugh except for the victim of the french fry crime. Poor Grayson.
"You have a great laugh, Talia," Jake says unexpectedly. What is up with him? How do they deal with his randomness all day? "Don't you agree, Grayson?"
We stare at Grayson to anticipate his response, and once again he is staring daggers into his friend. Someone's pissy today. "Five...four...three..."
"Alright, fine, fine. I'm moving. While I'm moving, why don't you get that stick out of your ass, hmm?"
Jake swiftly stands up before Grayson can swat his head. Rowan laughs from across the table and I smile as I sit down next to Grayson.
"Hi," I say.
He leans his head forward on his hand and looks at me with a whisper of a smile, probably still mad at Jake. "Hey."
"So, Lia, darling," Jake says. I swear I hear the table break under Grayson's grasp. "To whom do we owe the pleasure of you gracing us with your presence at lunch today?"
Grayson doesn't interrupt or threaten to smack him, so he's possibly curious as well.
"Oh, Jess and Quinn are sick, and Cassie's...not speaking to me."
Rowan takes a swig of his water. "Why's she not speaking to you?"
I steal a glance at Grayson, but his two friends pick up it immediately. Jake points at Grayson with his eyebrows raised. "Him? I don't understand."
"Cas doesn't like that Grayson and I are...," I trail off. What are we exactly? Certainly not friends. Friends don't kiss. We're...dating? No, we didn't discuss that, even though we have technically gone on a date. What's a neutral term that suggests what we're doing without putting a label on it?
"We're seeing each other," Grayson confidently states. That's good. Very neutral. Good. Cool, cool, cool.
Jake and Rowan blankly stare at us as I open up my container of fruit to eat. What feels like a whole minute goes by before Rowan turns to Jake.
"You owe me ten bucks," he says.
Jake slams his palm down on the table with a loud smack, his face overriding with frustration. "No, we never shook on it! It doesn't count."
"You're such a liar," Rowan seethes. He holds out a hand. "Pay up."
Jake begrudgingly searches through his backpack and pulls out a crumpled ten dollar bill. "Here."
"This bill has probably seen some things," Rowans says, displaying a look of disgust as he attempts to neatly folds out it into his pocket. "So, you're seeing each other."
Grayson and I exchange a look.
"Yeah, we are," I answer. A hint of a smile flashes from Grayson. Smug is more like it. I try not to roll my eyes, even though a short laugh is spilling between my lips.
"Wait, so why would Cassie be mad about that?" Rowan asks.
I shrug and turn to Grayson to find him rolling his eyes. "She thinks that Grayson is using me."
"Oh," Rowan and Jake say in unison.
"Which is bullshit," Grayson mumbles underneath his breath. "I don't like that she takes it out on you," he adds in a clearer voice.
"Hmm? What do you mean?" I question, scrunching my eyebrows together.
Grayson pokes at a fry in his tray before lifting his head up. "She called you an idiot when she first saw us together. Every time after that it's gotten worse with what she says to you." He takes a deep breath and I just know anger is boiling inside him. "She should be calling me those things, not you."
I frown. "She shouldn't be saying those things to either of us. Anyways, I feel like there's something more to it."
"Like what?" Jake asks, intrigued beyond belief on this subject. To be honest, the three of them are curious as to what I have to say.
On the surface, this just seems like girl drama. One best friend is mad at the other best friend. If this were different, I feel as if Cas would simply warn me about Grayson, not full on rage when she finds out we're pursuing each other. If anything, she should have been quiet when she saw us together. Maybe even told me later her concerns—not that I would have listened to them. I trust Grayson. Cassie does not.
"I don't know yet," I say in defeat. I shouldn't feel this frustrated by this. "Maybe something happened that is making her lash out like this. I really don't know."
This time, Grayson tries to offer an understanding smile and I feel the soft pressure of his hand on my knee beneath the table. "We'll figure it out."
We'll figure it out.
It's a team effort, apparently. Not that I'm complaining.
I hope we can figure it out. I miss our unstoppable trio friendship. Quinn, Cassie, and myself. To say I didn't would make me a liar.
"You two make me want to crawl into a hole and die," Jake says in a strangely loving voice.
Rowan hits the back of his head. "You're just upset because you're single, Jake."
"I know," Jake scoffs. "I'm surprised you're not grumpy about seeing them considering you're also single."
Rowan provides no response and instead hums, turning his head away. That's suspicious. Jake catches on to it immediately.
"Unless you're not single?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
At that exact moment, Rowan's phone buzzes on the table. Jake is already on the attack before Rowan can even react, swiftly snatching the phone and reading the screen.
"Ooooo, who's Kath?" Jake coos. A moment later he lifts his head and looks at Grayson. "Wait, isn't that what you call Katie..."
Rowan pales. "It's a...different Katie. Totally not your sister, Grayson. Ha. Ha. Ha."
The daggers in Grayson's eyes intensify. I would not want to be Rowan right now.
"Quick, Lia do that thing," Jake says to me in panic, leaning across the table.
"Huh?" I ask in confusion.
Jake rolls his eyes as if he is being obvious. "That thing girls do when their guy is about to kill someone. You have to touch Grayson on the shoulder and say something like, "Look at me. Look at me! This isn't you, Grayson!" You know what I'm talking about?"
My mouth gapes open. I have absolutely zero clue at what he is describing. Is this a common thing or something? I shake my head slowly to emphasize my confusion to Jake. He scoffs.
"Watch and learn, Lia," he whispers.
Jake reaches a hand across the table and places it on Grayson's shoulder. Great, now he's directing his coldness at both of his friends. It's like someone turned down the thermostat.
"Grayson, look at me," Jake says. Grayson's look is anything but happy as he shoves his friend's hand off of him. I rest my palm over my mouth to hide my smile. "This isn't the real you. You're better than this. Listen, if Rowan wants to smooch your sister, let him smooch in peace."
There were thousands of better ways he could have phrased that. Literally thousands.
For some miraculous reason, Jake's words change Grayson's whole demeanor. He turns back to Rowan. "I'll know if you hurt her."
"I don't intend on doing that," Rowan responds. "I promise."
"Okay," Grayson says, nodding his head. He's a man of few words.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and every student around us scrambles to throw away their trash and move to class. Rowan and Jake quickly leave the table, waving goodbye. In all of the chaos, Grayson grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him.
"I barely got to talk to you during lunch," he murmurs, his eyes looking into mine with a terrifying amount of intimacy. I'm secretly scared of how he makes me feel.
I show a small smile. "Jake talks a lot," I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder with one hand. The other is occupied with Grayson's hand, which holds on tight, not ready to leave me yet.
He rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it."
A laugh passes through me.
"You can sit with us anytime you want, you know?" Grayson adds. "You don't need to ask."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Grayson smiles and takes a step back, his hand releasing mine. "I'll see you during art."
Without even realizing it, I frown. He catches it immediately and stops moving. By now there's almost no one left in the cafeteria. "Why are you frowning?"
I feign a smile. "I'm not frowning. This is a smile, see?"
He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Okay," I say, staring at the ground, "it's just that I would mind you like...kissing me goodbye."
Grayson shoves his hands in his pockets of his joggers and tilts his head, observing me, a lopsided smile stretching across his lips. "Mhm. You wouldn't mind?"
I shake my head and lightly bite my bottom lip. He reaches a hand out and pulls my lip out from my teeth before leaning forward and pressing a playful kiss against it. Short and sweet. My insides feel like they're melting.
He moves away and speaks in a low voice, our eyes a foot apart, "Good?"
"Mhm," I hum, unable to form cohesive words.
Grayson smiles. "Goodbye, Talia."
I nod my head. "Mhm."
He turns around and I hear him laugh once he's a few paces away. It takes me a few seconds to recompose myself enough to walk to my next class, the heat of the kiss still lingering on my lips.
I could get used to this.
***
My sister and I enter the front door of our house. When we pulled into our driveway, we immediately noticed our mom's car inside the garage, which means she's waiting inside.
"Good, you're home," our mom says upon noticing our arrival. "Jessica, can you leave your sister and I alone for a moment?"
Jess gives me a skeptical look and slowly backs away to go upstairs, just as our mom wishes. I try begging her with my eyes not to leave me. She nods, and I know she'll be close by and out of view.
"Sit down," my mom adds when we're alone. I follow her command and sit in the chair across from her. Her laptop sits open and she examines the screen through her reading glasses. "I've been looking at your grades from this past quarter and notice they're slipping. Any explanation for that?"
By slipping does she mean they're a mixture of low and mid A's? What's wrong with that? "I don't really understand what you're asking—"
"Cut the bullshit, Lia," she says in a harsh tone. I freeze. "You're clearly not doing as well as you normally do. It's a very simple question. What is the cause for your failure to make good grades?"
I frown. "I-I've been stressed recently. I—"
"Do you think colleges are going to care that you're stressed? Do you think Duke will care? That institution can easily revoke your acceptance when they see your current transcript."
"I haven't even been accepted yet, mom," I try to reason.
"They won't want you anymore after this. Who's to say any place will want you." She hits her hand on the table, causing me to flinch. She then speaks in a quiet voice, but it's still as equally harsh. "You're not good enough. These grades are proof."
My mouth gapes open. Not good enough? Is that what she thinks of me? Is that all I am to her?
"I have a conference out of state I'm going to be late for." My mom stands up abruptly from the table. "I'll be back in a week, and if I don't see any improvement, you and I will have a much more serious talk."
She walks out the front door, leaving me stunned at the table. I was having a perfect day based on how much I was smiling, and then she had to go and ruin it. It honestly felt like she was leaving me in ruins from her words.
You're not good enough.
Take a deep breath, Talia. Her words are not true. They're not...they're not...
I pull my backpack over my shoulders just as the first tears begin to fall. My chest burns. It feels like someone's crushing a weight on it. A big fucking weight.
You're not good enough.
I want to be good enough.
I walk up the stairs and Jess stands up from where she was sitting at the top. She notices my expression and wet cheeks. "What the fuck did she say?"
"I have to go study and do homework," I mumble in between gasps for breath. It hurts.
"Talia," she persists, trying to stop me by clasping onto my arm. I shake her off of me and give her a dirty expression.
"No! There's...there's stuff that I need to do. I'm behind on my work," I say. My mom's voice rings through my head and influences my words and thoughts. "I need to fix my grades."
"Your grades are fine!" I move through the hallway, but Jessica intervenes. "You're worrying me. Please, just take a minute to breathe."
An aggravated sob emits from my lips. "I am breathing! Let me do what I need to do, okay?"
My head pounds as I storm into my room and slam the door shut. I crawl into my bed and lay out every single textbook, notebook, and binder I have collected from this year. I can fix this. I can be good enough. I just need to work harder, that's all.
Tears stain the pages of my notebook as I begin copying down notes, forcing their meanings to be ingrained in my mind. The pencil leads snaps from pressure and I angrily throw it across the room, picking up a pen this time. Something that I know I will not be able to break.
I will not break under pressure.
My sister is wrong to worry about me.
I'm fine.
***
Three hours later a knock sounds at my door. The tears stopped thirty minutes ago, but my cheeks still burn from the salt that has dried on them. My eyes hurt and I can feel my heartbeat in them.
"Go away, Jessica," I shout, not stopping the movement on my pen as I annotate a book for English. I've already read the book, but maybe this will help me remember important passages.
The door opens against my wishes and I groan, looking up from my page. "I said to go away—"
The words stop in my throat when I realize it's not my sister at the door.
Grayson's hand is still on the doorknob as he examines my current state. There's work scattered all around me and I'm positive I look like a madwoman. Especially because my eyes and face are stained red.
His mouth opens and then closes again. "Talia..."
"I need to focus," I say dismissively, redirecting my attention to my work.
He steps inside the room and closes the door behind him. Does he not understand I want to be left alone? My jaw clenches.
The sound of a plastic crinkles and I steal a glance at the bag in his hand, which he now places on my bedside table. The smell of food wafts to my nose.
But there's no time to eat. I have to work. "I'm not in the mood for this," I mumble.
Grayson stands right beside me, judging me. Why is there always someone judging me?
"What happened?" he asks. His voice sounds strained. Maybe he's disgusted by this.
I scribble another line across my page. "I'm doing homework," I laugh out. From his ears it probably sounds hysterical. "Just like any normal student would."
"You know that's not what I meant."
I slam my pen down, frustration and anger rising through me. The tears rimming in my eyes tell a different story. "I'm doing what my mom want me to do. What she wants me to be—perfect. If this is what perfection costs, then fine. Whatever."
He frowns.
My gut turns.
He looks again at the mess I made.
My tears fall.
He watches them.
Unexpectedly, he leans a knee down on my bed. Before I can even protest, Grayson slides next to me and scoops me up into his lap, hugging me tight. I release a shuttering breath and my head falls into his chest, sobs following shortly after. His hand soothingly rubs my back as I cry and cry and cry. His lips press against my forehead periodically. I don't even know how much time goes by.
"I'm so tired," I whisper into his shoulder.
Another kiss to the forehead. "I know."
"She said I wasn't good enough."
"Who?"
I frown, but he can't see it. "My mom."
Silence passes over us and he leans his head on top of mine. "I think you're good enough." I pull away from him and look up into his eyes. He reaches up and wipes away a stray tear. "You are good enough, Talia. You need to believe that. Please."
The last word comes out as a pleading whisper and I lean into his hand, craving the contact. The comfort. Him.
"Thank you," I say.
He nods and then places me back on the bed. I groan at the loss of his arm around me. I'm pretty sure he takes notice. "Let's clean up your stuff, okay? If you really want, you can study after you eat."
I reluctantly agree and we begin stacking my papers and organizing them into their correct binders. Grayson pins me with his eyes when I try to get out of bed to put the school materials on my desk, instead taking the liberty to do it himself. He then grabs the plastic bag I spotted earlier and sits back beside me, allowing me to move close to him again.
"Here," he says, handing me a cup and straw. It's ice cold when it makes contact with my hand, so I look at him with confusion. "It's a pistachio milkshake. You said you liked them before."
I greedily unwrap the straw and puncture it into the lid, taking a large sip of the milkshake. I hum with delight and smile for the first time in a while. "I'm surprised you remembered."
"It seemed like important information to know," he clarifies. He next removes a white styrofoam take-out container. "I brought pancakes, also. There's chocolate chip, banana, and blueberry ones. I didn't know which kind you would like."
I stare down at the perfectly round treats. "This is really nice."
He pushes back a strand of hair that falls forward from me tilting my head down. When I look up at him, his expression is one I've never seen before. He looks...relaxed? No, that's not quite right. Was this the look Jess has been talking about? Whatever it is makes my chest warm and my heart feel fuzzy. I just wish I knew what it was.
I cut into a pancake and take a bite, savoring the sweetness. I cut up more pieces and place it between the two of us to eat together. "Did Jess call you?"
"Yeah," Grayson says. He picks up a piece with his fork while I sip on the milkshake. "She called me twenty minutes ago sounding distressed. She was really worried about you."
"I wasn't myself."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I pause my eating and push around a square of pancake that I sliced. "My mom is really hard on me, that's all. She said somethings that I don't like hearing. This time I just...It just got to me."
"I don't know everything she said to you, but whatever it was it's not true. And if you ever need clarification of that, call me and I'll be there to tell you," Grayson says with a frown, unable to meet my eyes. He rubs the fabric of his sweatpants in between his fingers, possibly as a way of distracting himself.
My words lodge in my throat. I'm speechless about how honest and straightforward he's being. I hide a smile. "I hope I didn't drag you away from anything for you to be here."
He shakes his head. "Just work."
"What?" I gasp. His past words of saying how he needs to work for his family rings through my head. "I don't want to be the reason you're missing work. You need—"
"Talia," Grayson interrupts, smiling. He places a gentle hand on my knee. "This is more important."
"But, I—"
"Shush." Grayson silences me by shoving a bit of pancake into my mouth from his fork. I grovel at him the entire time I chew while he watches in amusement.
I roll my eyes and decide to let the topic go. We eat the rest of the food with light chatter passing between us. Once we're finished, Grayson insists on throwing out the trash, pinning me with his eyes like he did before, challenging me to move. I remain put.
Grayson enters the room a minute later and something on my desk catches his eye. "You still have this."
He holds up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the book he lent to me a few weeks ago when I was at his house, insisting I read it.
"Of course," I say, adjusting myself on my bed. "I haven't had any time to read, though."
His fingers fan through the pages and he looks back at me. "Do you have time now?"
I nod my head, wondering if he wants me to read it at this very moment. Grayson walks back to my bed and sits next to me. I offer him a spot under the blanket, perhaps too intimate. By the sound of his intake of a short breath, I believe he is thinking the same thing. But I want him close. And besides, this isn't the first time he's been in my bed. I want to make sure he's real. That this side of him—the comforting, caring, and gentle side—is not some figment of my imagination.
I can't help but lean my head on his shoulder and use him as my own personal support beam. I reach for the book but he pulls it out of reach.
"I'll read to you," he says, the rumble of his voice vibrating his body.
I don't even attempt to argue or state that he doesn't need to go through the trouble. Him reading to me sound nice. He wraps an arm around my body to hold me closer and uses his other large hand to pry open the book to the first chapter. I almost stop breathing when he presses a kiss to the top of my head before reading.
"Chapter 1: Lucy Looks into a Wardrobe..."
It's insanely difficult to focus when all I can think about is how close we are. How right it is to be this close. It's a cliché to say we fit together like a puzzle piece, so I won't. I'll only suggest it.
Maybe I should also suggest that this might be what falling in love feels like.
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I've been meeting to write this scene for a while, but I've never felt like it was right. Now it's right :)
Qotd: what is your favorite type of tea?