Shifting Gears

29. No More Implied Nonsense

When Becka dropped me off, I quickly changed before heading right back out the door and driving to the McAllisters.

I checked my phone when I parked in the McAllister's driveway. It was past eleven at night, the lights were off in the house except for one room. It was beyond creepy I was showing up at their house in the middle of the week so late—but I was already here. So I switched off the engine, right as I heard my phone buzz.

Grey: What're you doing here

Me: I'm here to see you, idiot

Grey: charming

Me: That's my line

Greyson didn't respond, and I bit my lip, wondering if he was going to ignore me and I'd just drive back home. But a few seconds later, I saw their front porch light switch on, and then the door opened. Greyson stood there, looking out at my car. I took a deep breath and then stumbled out of my vehicle, hugging my bare arms and hearing the patter of my Nikes as I ran across the driveway, up the brick path, and straight to Greyson.

I stopped right in front of him, lifting my chin to meet his eyes. He was still in his black t-shirt, but now wore light grey Underarmour joggers. His green eyes were lit up from the porch light, and they searched my face, wondering why I was here. It was quiet for a moment. Bugs took a flurried flight toward the new light above us, crickets chirped from the trees, and the cars droning along the highway far away we're muffled.

"Can we talk?" I asked, my voice loud in the calmness. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, my eyes flitting around.

Greyson hesitated, then inhaled deeply before taking another step outside, closing the door behind him shut.

"Not inside?"

"Considering whenever you and I have a talk it typically ends with one or both of us yelling, I figured I'd spare my family and try not to wake them up."

I pursed my lips, a little glare making its way into my eyes at Greyson's raised eyebrows and tone. "Fair point."

"What did you want to talk about?" He didn't sound harsh, but definitely to the point—his arms were crossed, and his expression reserved. The crickets seemed to die down, as if waiting for me to speak.

My mind suddenly started racing a hundred different directions. Unintentionally, the first thought I grabbed onto and voiced was not how I wanted to start this conversation.

"Why were you running behind my back with—with that Meagan girl? I don't care that we didn't 'define' what this is, that's still stupid and hurt me and I deserve an explanation."

Greyson's head dropped back exasperatedly, and I felt my cheeks tint, embarrassed that was the first thing I grabbed onto. I did want an answer, though.

"You told me you had to come back to help your uncle, but you didn't have to lie to me, you could have just told me you had another date."

Greyson cocked his head, raising his eyebrow.

I blushed even deeper, and failed to stop the rush of words coming out of my mouth in a hushed whisper. "You can't get jealous about me and that Jimmy guy, even though, yes, he was a jerk—but that track bimbo isn't a glowing sweetheart of America herself."

"Cory, do you really think I've been doing anything with Meagan?" Greyson's voice was low and almost irritated.

I scowled, crossing my arms. The small lamp above us, tucked into the corner of the porch, cast a golden glow that faded into the darkness of the yard.

"I don't know."

"Did it ever occur to you that she's lying? That she's just some crazy and jealous girl who throws herself at whatever racer she can find, hoping to be able to show off her catch?"