Brielle

twenty-seven

BRIELLE

Taylor swift blasts through the speakers in Grayson's car as we drive to New York.

We've been driving for at least an hour now, and these speakers have been through a lot of different songs.

From the neighbourhood, steve lacy, pinkpantheress and the Wallows.

Including Grayson's picks of 50 cent, tupac and dave. Reminding me of the day when we were at the pier and he told me he loved Dave. As Ben would say, he's a real british at heart.

It's been through a lot.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" I ask Gray, who's currently humming along to the neighbourhood's, cry baby.

"Nope," He says, looking around as he continues driving. Tall skyscrapers zooming past us, as he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I send him a look and he smiles back at me shrugging.

"What? It was a spontaneous decision," He says, grinning widely.

"Got any ideas?"

"Look at that cute coffee shop!" I gasp, pointing towards a little coffee hut on the corner of a busy looking street.

"A cute fucking coffee shop it is," Graybear grumbles, pulling over into a parking bay.

Jumping out the car when he pulls over, I slam the door shut and impatiently wait for him to take his damn time out the car.

I think he's aching a little from the match.

He takes my hand in his and guides me into the coffee shop, it's only a few hours into the evening and knowing Grayson's awful sleeping pattern, he won't even come into my room until gone midnight.

"I want a caramel frappuccino," I blurt, reading from the signs above the till as we walk inside.

Gray laughs, "You always get the coldest drinks, and then complain when you freeze to death."

"Oh and get brainfreezes."

My mouth drops, "Brainfreezes are awful, disgusting and horrible," I mutter.

"Mank."

He only looks at me like I'm stupid before shaking his head, being interrupted by the worker as she asks for our drinks.

Grayson orders for me, ordering the caramel frappuccino with extra caramel drizzle and I grin. It's cute how he remembers nearly everything about me, including my shoe size and favourite songs.

He also orders himself some kind of coffee, but I was too busy mesmerised by the way the machine works to listen.

"What's your name?" The girl asks, gaining my attention as she asks Grayson. Looking up to him with flirty eyes.

I scowl and he sighs.

"Just write Brielle."

"But for your drink, I need your name," She clarifies and I frown.

"I said write Brielle," Grayson repeats, sending her a glare.

"But it will be on your drink, not hers," She waves a pen in my face, only to lift it up and down my body as a disgust look crosses her face.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" He snaps, grabbing his wallet and sliding a few notes across the counter.

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me away from the girl as he leans against the wall by the waiting area.