Secrets, Lies, and Summer Skies

Chapter Four

I hadn't intended to stay out late that night, but Jenny was my foil. She was like the redheaded devil on my shoulder. The girl I couldn't say no to.

I should've known that one more store would turn into fifteen stores, a manicure, and a movie.

I'd been so distracted by Jenny's presence that I'd forgotten to pick up anything for dinner on the way home. Hell, I'd forgotten about almost everything. It felt so like the old days that I'd been transported back into the mindset of my teenage self. It wasn't until I walked through the door with shopping bags in my hands and my phone blasting music that I remembered my roommate. It was difficult to forget him when I danced into the kitchen and found him leaning against the counter.

I shut off the music app on my phone and forced a smile. "Hey. Good day at work?"

"What's this?" he held up the note. "Why didn't you call to let me know you were going out?"

"I'm an adult?" I folded my arms, which was difficult with all the bags, but somehow, I managed. "I don't need your permission to spend time with my friends. I never ask Dad."

"Just... Just text me next time, okay?"

I didn't know why he was so mad about it. Maybe Dad had asked him to monitor me in his place because he was worried. That would be just like him. He'd probably made Grayson all paranoid about my mental state whenever I went through a breakup. I liked to think that I'd learned to cope better than I had when I was a teenager getting dumped by loser classmates.

Then again, I had sobbed all over Grayson when he was fresh out of a shower, so maybe not.

"There're leftovers if you need dinner," he said.

I glanced at the time on my phone. Crap. My clock was all out of whack because it was summer, and it stayed light later in the evening. He wasn't mad about me going out; it was because I'd come home so late. The dishes draining by the sink indicated his having cooked something for us to share. I immediately felt guilt sink like a rock in the pit of my stomach.

"Sorry." I was surprised at how sincere I sounded. "If I'd known you were gonna cook –"

"You'd have rushed home?"

I shrugged. "Not often I get to see a hot guy in an apron."

My heart seized in my chest.

Did I just call him hot to his face?

Crap, crap, crap.

Grayson paused, letting the words sink in. Rather than embarrass me further, he said, "Either your ex wasn't hot, or he didn't treat you right if he was never in the kitchen."

I was stunned. He wasn't wrong, but still. Trey didn't spend more than a few minutes at a time in the kitchen. He was usually only there to grab a snack or drink. Anna was much like him. The only time I'd tried to involve her in meal prep had been a disaster. A burnt-through pan and a fire alarm later, I'd resolved to be the sole chef in our household.

I set my bags down on the floor and stepped over them to approach the fridge. It was safer to prepare the leftovers than it was to answer Grayson's suspicions. It wasn't like he didn't know he was hotter than most of the guys I knew. I didn't need to feed his ego any more than I had already. He beat me to the fridge and opened the door, reached in, and pulled out a saran-wrapped plate. It was some kind of seasoned chicken with a side salad. I felt a little better knowing he hadn't gone all out with some fancy romantic dinner. Not that there was any reason for him to do that for me. I wasn't his girlfriend or anything.

"Thanks." I took the bowl from his hand and hopped up onto one of the kitchen island stools. Grayson held out a fork but, before I could take it, he withdrew it childishly. "Seriously?"