Kiss me.
Kiss me.
Kiss me.
Grey chuckles and doesn’t makeanyattempts to kiss me at all. He doesn’t even move closer orlooksat my lips.
How fucking difficult could it be to get someone to kiss you, my god. And why can’t he take a goddamn hint?
Nobody can tell me he’s just not interested and that’s why he hasn’t kissed me yet, because what he did last night says anything butnotinterested.
Every single time I tried to move away from him because it got a little too hot, he held me a little tighter so leaving was no option anymore. The satisfied hums that left him every time I gave up and just laid my head back down on his chest also said differently.
And he says he doesn’t do cuddling.
I have this theory that Grey just pretends. That he pretends not to like me. That he pretends he doesn’t want me as much as I want him. His mouth says he’s as interested in me as he is in soccer, but then his actions say we’re already married.
He ignores me every now and then, and I also have a theory as to why that is. I think Grey ignores me every single time he realizes I’ve never been just a friend to him. That whenever we met, he knew there was a deeper connection and he’s just too afraid to embrace it. Not love at first sight, because he doesn’t love me, I know that, and I don’t love him. Sure, I might have thisteeeennnyyy tiiinnyyycrush on the guy, but it’s notlove. And still, I think Grey Davis has a crush on me as much as I have one on him, but for whatever reasons, he’s just too stubborn to give into it. He’s too afraid to… to what I’m not sure but definitely too afraid to take that step from friends to lovers. Or even to take the step from friends to seeing each other more frequently, dating.
But that’s alright. If he needs time, I’ll give him that.
I’ll do this the right way with him.
No manipulations, I know I can do it.
I can be normal. I can be patient and feel the joy of finally getting what I want without forcing it. I can be strong.
I have to be. For him. Because Grey Davis deserves to fall for me because he wants to, not because I made him do it. He deserves to realize his feelings all on his own and not have me spoil the surprise for him.
If I have to wait another year or two for him to realize, I can do it. I can give him that time.
“So, what are your plans for the year?” he asks me, squeezing my hand a little.
“Watch as many of your games as I possibly can while trying not to fall asleep watching them.”
Grey nodsveryslowly while narrowing his eyes at me. He hates it when I bash ice hockey, which is exactly why I love doing it.
I don’t have anything against the sport per se, I just don’t understand it.
What’s so great about watching adult men constantly crash into one another and press the other up against the walls—er, boards? Why does ice hockey have to be so brutal?
The two times I watched it in person, I thought the players were going to kill each other. And that one time I watched Grey on TV and was forced to see him get tackled or whatever they call it, I was seconds away from buying a plane ticket to go wherever he was because that shit looked like it was painful, and I wanted to hold him in my arms.
“Do you actually watch every game or are you just saying that?”
I turn around in my seat, Grey does the same. And like I did the first time we were here, I mingle our knees so that one of mine is right between his legs and one of his is between mine. I don’t know why I keep doing it, I think I just like the closeness, the physical contact. I like touching him, even if it’s just our knees that touch, or legs, or he allows me to hold his hand. I wholeheartedly believe I’d be totally okay with being allowed to touch his earlobe only, but I take his other body parts as well.
“Every single one with you potentially in it,” I confirm. “I don’t understand what’s happening, but I can read the scoreboards, I know when you’re winning. I can listen to the sports moderator tell me who scored a goal and who assisted, and every time they mention your name, I do a little imaginary backflip for you to cheer you on.”
“Even when we don’t talk?”
I nod. “I watch every game.”
I’m a hopeful person, a dreamy one with a broad fantasy, too. Once I make up my fairytale, I do everything to make that fairytale turn into reality. So if that means watching ice hockey to know where Grey’s at, how his team is doing and all that, I will do it. If turning my fairytale into my actual life means showing interest in Grey beyond what he knows of, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
And I’ll do it the healthy way this time.
Chapter 7