Grey Waters

36: Kennedy

Enjoy;)

Greyson's big fight is tonight and I think I might throw up. I've avoided him as best I could over the past few days. I even stayed in my own bed for three nights and he stayed in his. I definitely didn't have to talk myself out of going to his room five hundred times every night...

Sam and Sanders are coming to pregame and should be here any minute, so I suck it up and exit my room. I want to duck right back inside when Greyson's door opens as I close mine and he stands in his doorframe in all his gorgeous Greek God glory. He's what I picture a hot Hades to be and it's so not fair.

Except he's scowling like I peed in his cereal.

"I'm driving you to my fight. I know you invited Sanders and Sam here so you could go with them to keep avoiding me."

My cheeks catch on fire but I do my best to act like I have no idea what he's talking about.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Ha. I stare at his eyebrows while I talk. "They wanted to pregame."

"Sams the only one who will even drink."

"That's not true!" Lie.

"Sanders is driving and you don't like to drink when you're going out." He narrows his eyes in challenge but I can't argue because that's true. How does he even know that?

"Sanders already told me he'd take me."

"Tough shit, I'm taking you."

Knowing there's nothing I can say that will change his mind, I decide to be petty instead and give him the silent treatment. It only lasts about 5 minutes because I can't get a jar of salsa open, but I'm really mean when I tell him to open it... well not that mean because he's just so cute.

The door opening draws my attention away from watching the way his forearm flexes as he opens the jar and my neck heats when my eyes collides with Sams knowing ones.

She sends me a little grin, that I choose to ignore, and Sanders trails in behind her carrying what looks like a box of Saltines. I give him a questioning look and he gives me one right back, making me laugh.

"So, King, how're you feeling about the fight tonight?"

Greyson gives Sam a bland look and hands me the jar of salsa, sending me the same look. Someone's in a bad mood.

"What's up with him?" Sanders nods towards Greyson's retreating form and I shrug because I was honestly wondering the same.

"Oh please, you know what's wrong with him." Sam laughs a little and turns to me. "You've been ignoring him for like a week."

I suck in a breath and glare at her. "It has not been a week."

"Fine, 4 days. Same thing."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Sanders laugh pulls us from our stare down and I think he might be unwell because he's laughing like a maniac.

He drops into a crouch—still laughing—and shakes his head. "Seriously? That's why he's been such a fucker lately?" He giggles like a little kid and falls back on his butt. "He is such a little bitch."

"The fucks wrong with him?" I spin around to see Greyson standing by the entrance to the hallway.

Sanders only laughs harder and points a shaky finger at Greyson. "You, my man, you." He gets out between bursts of laughter and I genuinely begin to worry about his mental well-being.