My hand paused. I'd raised it to knock on Clay's bedroom door, but now, I thought, maybe it wasn't a good idea. Maybe it was too early, he probably wasn't even awake at... eleven in the morning. I grit my teeth, looking for another excuse.
I could just leave it for tomorrow.
So I dropped my hand, and was about to turn and walk back downstairs when his door swung open.
I gulped, looking up at him. He stared at me with one eyebrow raised.
"Um, how did you know—"
"You walk like an elephant, the entire hallway creaked as you walked here then froze suspiciously right outside my door."
My nerves were gone, and I scowled at him. "How sweet, thank you."
"What did you want?"
"Geez, you woke up on a delightful side of the bed—"
"I have to leave soon for practice, so what did you want to say?"
I sighed. This was going great already.
"Um, can we..." I motioned inside his room, and he frowned, then stepped aside and let me in.
It looked, ironically, a lot like Greyson's. My brother and Greyson were very similar people. Probably another reason why they hated each other so much.
Slate grey walls were littered with posters of racers, sponsors, Fox and Monster apparel, and dozens of things about Ryan O'Linski, the pro racer that every boy wanted to be.
His bed was a mess, and there were clothes littering the floor. I sidestepped a pair dirty socks, then stood up straight, shoving my hands into my pockets.
He closed the door, then looked at me, crossing his arms. He had a dark grey shirt on, and his racing pants. The bruise under his eye was almost unnoticeable, but there was another one growing from the hit he took from Spencer on his jaw. Shaggy blond hair fell around his face—he hadn't gotten it cut in a while.
"Listen, I, uh..." The nerves returned, and I anxiously cleared my throat. Clay dramatically checked his watch, and that kicked the nerves out again, replacing it with annoyance, and the words spilled out. "I went to see Greyson again and made him tell me what happened, so I know now. He told me everything, and he blames himself and he feels bad for it. So I know now. And I'm not angry at him, and I don't blame him and I—I don't want you to either, Clay."
My mouth closed with a pop as I waited for the onslaught of accusations.
But Clay's expression didn't change, he just listened. I don't even think he blinked. Then he sighed, looking out the window at the grey clouds.
"Are you angry at me?" I questioned.
He pursed his lips. "I thought you were going to say you were dating the jerk, so I guess this is better than what I was expecting you to say."
I swallowed. So it looks like I wasn't going to mention anything else that happened yesterday.
"So... you're not mad?"
Clay was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Even if you say you don't blame him, you can't decide that for me. You don't know what I went through at that time. You don't know how I saw it."
"Clay—"
"No," he cut me off, shaking his head. "You've been my best friend for so long, and I almost lost you, Cory. You are the most important person to me, even if this summer we've been at each other's neck for the most of it."
"Most important person, but you were going to change your plans for this fall and thought I didn't need to know?" My words were tinged with accusation, but also hurt.
Clay clenched his jaw. "I—I don't know what I'm doing this fall."
"You haven't really been acting like I'm important to you, you've been more controlling and kind of a jerk yourself, so sorry if I don't really take your words to heart. Why didn't you tell me the truth about Greyson?"
"Because, Cory, I know he'd fool you and get you to forgive him—
"He's not 'fooling me', Clay."
"Cory—" he stopped, exhaling harshly. "I just don't want you to get hurt again."
"Who's to say I would?"
"Do you even know him? Do you know his family? Do you know what he's truly like? You've known him for maybe—a little over a month. Do you really know what he's like, and whether he'll—hurt you again or not?"
I wanted to protest, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew Greyson. But Clay was right, I hadn't known him long. I wanted to believe I knew him pretty well though, but figured that would only rile up Clay more.
"People don't change, Cory."
"But they can grow." My words were soft, pleading. Clay's brown eyes watched me, his sandy eyebrows furrowed.
He then sighed. "People can act, too. I can't control you, Cory. But be careful who you trust. Do you really think he's being genuine? Truly, do you believe that?"
We stood there for another minute, then he turned and walked out of his room, pulling the door open so harshly I thought he'd throw it off the hinges.
— - — @ — - —
After practices that day, Audrey walked back with me toward the trailers, and let me know that she and Clay were planning on going out to Rosie's Burgers, the little red diner on the square, that evening with Becka and Glen and a few others. She asked if I wanted to come.
I tried to hide my grimace. I wasn't jealous of Audrey, but I felt like she took my spot. I used to go out to eat with Clay and his friends after a day out at the track, I'd be hanging out with the group. But now I felt like I couldn't, almost felt like I'd be an intruder.
So I made up some excuse, saying I needed to head back home to get some work for college done.
It wasn't a complete lie. I did have more work I needed to do, because apparently getting into the honors program meant professors thought you'd want pre-homework for the summer. Plus I felt bad about not going to the early move-in orientation for the honors students. It would mean I'd have to skip the final race of the competition, and that wasn't going to happen.
But it was also a partial lie. I waited in the Shop, watching until I saw Clay and Audrey leave the track, making their way out with a group of friends, Reid included. Then I snuck out of the building, and instead of going back home, I walked back into the parking field.
The practices had started later that day to let the track dry some, so it was already close to six. Most people had left already, so I didn't feel like I had to look over my shoulder as I made my way over to a large grey truck and trailer in the back corner—the corner opposite of where my brother was parked.
I thought maybe he wasn't there, but then I saw Champ trot around the corner and bark a greeting at me. His owner followed a second later, his riding boots thumping on the trailer door that created a ramp inside. He had been in the race that just finished, so his bike was caked in mud, as were his racing pants and boots. He'd switched his racing top for a plain tee shirt.
He patted Champ's head, then stopped short in his tracks when he saw me standing right outside his trailer.
"Uh—hey," I said weakly, my eyes having a hard time fixing on him.
We were so comfortable around each other the day before. Now that it was over, nerves swirled in my stomach in an unbearable tornado.
Greyson unfroze, and continued to clean his hands with a rag.
"Is Clay still here?"
I shook my head. "No, I uh—he left."
He watched me for a moment, then turned and went over to his bike, beginning to clean part of it. I knew he'd need a power washer to get anything off of it, so I figured he was nervous like me and just trying to find something to do.
I stepped up toward him, now a few feet away from his back, and said, "We need to talk."
Greyson glanced slightly over his shoulder, then looked back toward his bike. As much as an invitation to talk as ever, I guess.
Taking a deep breath, I said, "Listen, I don't know if—I don't know what will happen now. After yesterday I..."
The tall racer just continued chipping away at the mud. I sighed, looking around. There was no one in site, but I still felt squeamish being at his trailer.
"I talked with Clay, and he didn't blow up on me, actually, but I just—I don't know how—I don't know if... this would be a good idea."
Greyson was quiet, but he cocked his head, and I could almost hear the question.
"This as in—as in you and me," I clarified. Then rushed forward with, "Not that there is a 'you and me', exactly, but yesterday, with the, uh—you know."
Greyson turned around, leaning back against his bike lightly and crossing his arms. He had the audacity to look amused at me fuddling my way around this conversation that he was not participating in.
"I'm just saying," I continued with a spark of obstinance, but it was quickly overruled with nerves again, "that I don't think you and me would be a good idea, because I don't—Clay and I are already not doing great and I don't want to push that. I'm not saying he controls me, or is the reason I'm making this choice! Fully. I'm just saying he means a lot to me and I don't want to do anything that would—distract him more. And you and me—well, you and me, you know—I don't know if that would be—like you and me, uh, becoming something, uh..."
I hated how red my face was, and I pushed forward. "It wouldn't be a good idea. I mean, I just don't want it to mess things up more between my brother and me. But then, that does make it seem like Clay's the only reason I'm saying this, but he's not, I just..."
I finally stopped, huffing harshly as I crossed my own arms, willing my face to not be as much of a tomato baking in the sun as it felt.
Why in the world did I try to complete a tense talk with my brother and a tense talk with Greyson all in the same day. This was not good for me.
Greyson just watched me, his green eyes sparkling. Then he stood up, walking around his bike and around the front of his truck, disappearing from view as I heard his truck door open. I scoffed, marching around to follow him, watching as he leaned in to grab something.
It was just another rag to clean his hands, a cleaner one, and he stood up and did that while I continued to struggle my way through what I was trying to say. But I was quickly realizing I didn't even know what I was trying to say.
"Greyson, this wouldn't work. Would it? It couldn't. You and Clay in the same room are like two ticking bombs, and I will not be the reason my brother messes this summer up more, and I also, half the time, can't stand you," I said, feeling honest saying that what with his total lack of participation right now.
He was watching his hands as he cleaned him, and I stomped right up to him, poking him in the chest angrily. "You are a piece of work, Greyson! You're going to make me say it all? Fine! Yes! I'm attracted to you! There! But this—it can't work. I don't know how it could. I don't think it can! I don't know! I don't—"
Greyson stepped forward suddenly, his now clean hand gently grabbing my face as he leaned down and kissed me, effectively cutting off my embarrassing rapid fire of words.
Right as I went to lean into his soft lips, he pulled back, but his hand stayed. "Lawson, you're cute when you're sassy, but you're even cuter when you have no idea what to say."
I scowled at him, but the nerves in my stomach had picked up significantly with recent events. "Well you're not participating, so it's making it hard to have an actual conversation."
He cocked his head, studying me with his green eyes. I realized how close we were, and panicked for a second, worried someone might see us—but by following Greyson around his truck, we were now hidden from view, stuck between his truck and the tall, fabric-covered fence of the edge of the parking field.
He finally chipped in his thoughts. "Well, I'll admit, just you talking to me about it makes me more optimistic because I thought, after all I told you yesterday, you might never talk to me again. And now, if I'm hearing correctly, you want this—even though 'this' is yet to be defined. But you want it," he said, his words soft. "Almost as much as I do." I swallowed. "But you're too busy thinking about how it would affect your brother."
I bit my lip. His eyes fluttered down to my mouth.
"I'm not—yes, I am saying that. I just don't know how it would work."
"Would you even be interested in trying to make it work?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
My heart felt like it grew wings and was floating around in my chest. Yes. I wanted this. It was probably the first time I actually admitted it to myself. I wanted this, I wanted him, and I wanted to be with him. But the thought of my brother was like tying a brick to my heart, yanking it straight back to the ground.
I leaned into his hand. He smelled like dirt and oil and outside and gasoline and I wanted him to kiss me again.
"I do," I finally said. "But I just don't know how."
Greyson's eyes came back to meet mine. He thought for a moment, then replied, "Maybe we'll have to just ignore each other." He slid his hand from my face to draw a line down my arm.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "If I recall, a few days ago you said you were going to 'take a step back' and ignore me. That doesn't seem to be working out very well."
He tilted his head, withdrawing his hand from my arm and crossing his. "You're right. Plus, after kissing you, Lawson, ignoring you would be an even harder challenge than it was to win you over."
My jaw dropped playfully, but I couldn't help the smile forming. "You have absolutely not won me over, Ryvers."
"So if I tried to kiss you again, you'd push me away?"
"That's different than winning me over. You're just a good kisser."
"Dang right, I am."
"We're avoiding the subject at hand."
"This is an integral part of the matter at hand."
"Okay, stop." I held up a hand, closing my eyes briefly. If we started this banter we'd spiral and never actually address what I confronted him for. "What are we going to do, Greyson?"
Greyson paused for a moment, and I could see his mind moving behind those bright emerald eyes. He had stopped touching me, but still stood close, at a more-than-friendly distance.
"What are we doing right now?"
My eyebrows furrowed at his question. "What?"
He motioned toward me then our surroundings. "What are we doing right now?"
"Bickering."
"No, I mean, what are we physically doing right now."
"Hiding."
"Exactly," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "We just keep doing this. Best of both worlds."
I narrowed my eyes up at him, my own mind moving a hundred miles-per-hour now. "So we become...whatever this is. And can keep seeing each other not as enemies, but we keep it all hidden? Primarily from Clay?"
Greyson nodded, his voice lowering. "Not saying it would be easy. But I—I understand not wanting to push your brother even more over the edge. So what if we just..." he lifted a shoulder. "Just continued on, but your brother still thinks you hate me."
I made a noise of contempt. "Well, he knows I don't hate you, thus him already being pushed close to the edge. So... maybe that could work." I tried not to show it on my face, but I felt a blossom of hope in my chest.
I liked Greyson. I wanted to be around him. I was finally admitting it, I finally forced myself to stop lying, and now I didn't quite know how I would have been able to rein it back in and tell myself to hold back.
This did seem like a "everybody is a winner" situation. But...
"Clay will have to find out eventually," I protested. "He has to. He's my brother. And—and I still want to be close to him. I wouldn't want to hide it forever."
Greyson's mouth curved into a lopsided smirk as he leaned against his truck. "You already betting on us lasting forever, Lawson? Jumping ahead a few steps. Ambitious as always."
I lightly punched his shoulder. "You know what I mean."
He nodded silently, inhaling deeply, and then said, "Let's not tell him. For now. When the competition is over, then he'll just have to deal. But it might rub salt in his wounds since he's going to lose anyway." I sighed, shaking my head at his deeper smirk. "But, we'll hide it now. Deal?"
He stuck out a rough, tanned hand.
I looked at it, and analyzed the deal inside.
This was probably a bad idea. Sneaking around isn't something I often do, I'm not good at hiding things, it's typically written all over my face.
Plus, it would really blow up if Clay found out about this. Whatever "this" would be. We kind of avoided that too.
Plus... Clay's words came back into my mind. "People can act, too. I can't control you, Cory. But be careful who you trust. Do you really think he's being genuine? Truly, do you believe that?"
I wanted to think Greyson was genuine. He told me the truth, and it was obviously hard for him to do. He seemed to have changed this summer since I've known him. I felt like I truly got to know him, at least enough to give a good assessment. I'd also like to say I wasn't easily fooled.
But what if he was "playing a game"? What if he was being genuine, but I misread his character, and he'd just move on or drop me whenever he got bored? What if he was just using me to get at Clay?
No. I can't imagine he'd do that.
But what if...
So many filled my mind. Did I want to do this? If I wanted to back out, I knew I needed to do so now. I knew I was already attached to this boy. I knew if I took a step forward, it would be that much harder for me to even try to take a step back should things go wrong.
But what if it all turned out okay?
A slim chance, my mind kept telling me. But it was possible. And I wanted to believe it, because I really didn't want to say no to this.
So I took his hand, which was almost fully engulfed by his.
My heart did a little flip flop at the possibilities that were flowing from our hands shaking. Now that I took that step—I was realizing it looked like it was right off a cliff, and now I was free-falling and I was scrambling to find a parachute as a just in case.
Then Greyson smiled at me. Not a smirk—an actual smile, warm and shining with what looked like actual happiness. It melted the fears away, pushing them back to another day.
Greyson's deep voice was quiet as he said, "I admit, I don't really like hiding it. We don't have to put a—a name on this right now or anything. But if we did... I'd want people to know." His words were genuine, his eyes softening, and I felt my face growing warm. "You're not something I'd want to hide. But given the circumstances... sneaking around with you sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, if I'm being honest."
I rolled my eyes as his playfulness returned. "You have to promise to keep it secret."
He retracted his hand from mine and held it over his chest. "I'll do my darndest."
"I'm serious. I don't want—I don't want it to get messy."
"I don't know if we'll be able to avoid that."
"I just want to have time to think about how to... tell Clay. If this even becomes anything," I rushed to add.
Greyson chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest as he came close again. "'If this becomes anything.' You're cute, Lawson." He got quieter as he came closer, his breath on my nose. My heart thudded loud enough I was sure he could feel it, especially as his hand slowly snaked its way around my waist, pulling me closer.
Just before his lips touched mine, he said, "Unfortunately, I told my aunt I'd be home for dinner, so I need to get going." With that, he stepped around me and walked back around the front of his truck.
I took a deep breath, glaring at him and following.
"I also have to leave, I have college stuff to work on."
"You've got books to read, you mean."
Another glare, another smirk.
He grabbed his bike, kicking out the stand and leaning over it as he pushed the heavy wheels into motion, careening it in a wide arc to get it into his trailer. He strained slightly to get it up the ramp, his boots digging into the wood door, his muscles shifting. He disappeared for a second, and I grabbed his stand, walked up into the ramp and handing it to him.
"Am I going to see you tomorrow?"
"I sure hope so. I'll need a kiss for good luck."
I rolled my eyes. "It's just practices again tomorrow."
His eyes twinkled as he steadied his bike so it was upright, then turned to walk back out, raising a dark brown eyebrow at me as he passed and said. "Yeah—you'll have to guess what I'll need for good luck when an actual race comes."
I punched his arm, exactly what he expected, and his laughter rang out which made Champ let out a stream of barking to accompany.
The sunlight was dipping behind the tall tree line right behind the fence. Sunlight speckled his hair with gold as he jumped off the side of the ramp to continue cleaning things.
I followed uncertainly, and stopped as he started taking down the tent he'd put up.
"So... I will see you tomorrow?" I know I had already asked, but my words held a different question. It asked if seeing each other was going to be intentional—not just running into each other as we had before. It asked if we'd be seeing each other outside of the track and Gabby's tutoring sessions. It asked if this—whatever "this" was—meant more than just stolen kisses behind trucks and inside Garages.
Greyson seemed to hear the uncertainty in my voice, and I swallowed as he turned around, pausing his work to set his gaze on me, almost reassuringly.
"If you're finally giving me the green light, Lawson, I'll be seeing you as much as you let me." My cheeks grew warm again under his steady eyes. "Deal?"
I waited for a moment, then nodded. "Deal."
He grinned. "See you around, Lawson."
I shook my head at him, but smiled back, and it only grew as I walked away on the gravel road toward the Shop and then outside to my car.
I tried to stop the smile. I couldn't get carried away.
I reminded myself that I needed to be careful—take it slow. Watch him, and see if he is as genuine as I hoped he was. I couldn't just fall into him with no shield. I was smarter than that, and I knew it would be dangerous with Greyson. He drew me in like a riptide sweeping me close, and it was hard to fight. But I still needed to be alert. Needed to remember my brother's words.
If everything broke apart... being careful and taking it slow would cushion the fall.
So I just needed to be careful. It couldn't go too wrong or get too messy, could it?