His Sweet Revenge

Chapter 11.

Grayson has been giving me the cold shoulder ever since that night. I've stopped asking him invasive questions because I know no matter how hard I try, he's never going to tell me the truth.

But even though I'm not being annoying anymore he's still avoiding me. Whenever we talk his answers are curt and he ends the conversation as soon as he possibly can and tries to be everywhere I'm not.

Iris has been in the city with her friends for the past few days, Nate flew to Wisconsin to spend some time with his girlfriend, and Brett is busy doing god knows what. I've had the most boring past few days, to say the least.

"You could try to make some friends," Grandma suggests, watering the grass. "The boardwalk is always teeming with folk your age at this time."

I'm on my knees in the garden, wearing my big overalls and a cap over my head to protect myself from the sun because at the moment it's beating down on me. I'm helping Grandma and Grandpa with the garden.

"Why would I want to be at the boardwalk? I love gardening with you and Grandpa. This is where I'm meant to be." I give her my biggest smile, flashing all my teeth.

Grandma looks at me like I'm the biggest liar in the world, shaking her head with a hand on her hip. Meanwhile, Grandpa walks down the porch stairs with two big, ice-cold glasses of lemonade in his hands and passes one to each of us.

I sit down more comfortably on the lawn and chug the lemonade. It's so cold I can feel it flow down all the way to my stomach. But that feeling of coolness only lasts a few seconds because Grayson pulls up in front of the house on the motorcycle he's been riding these past few days.

He parks and pulls the helmet off his head and I realize I'm watching intently. I pass off the empty glass to Grandpa and turn back around to continue pruning the shrub.

"How are you, Gray?" Grandpa asks behind me. "Would you like a cold glass of lemonade?"

I hear Grayson approaching the driveway. "Sure."

Grandpa kneels down beside me, his own overalls covered in faded green stains from years of doing this. "I can take care of this shrub. Would you mind making Grayson some lemonade? We just ran out."

I almost say no. I want to say no. Why do I have such a hard time saying no?

I wipe the bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and walk up to the house. Grayson follows behind me. I can feel his presence. I've been able to feel it ever since he got here. It almost feels familiar and I don't understand why.

"I can make you strawberry flavored or blueberry flavored if you want," I say, opening the fridge to get some lemons out.

"Normal is fine." Still with the curt responses. Grayson leans against the counter and watches me as I squeeze the juice out of some lemons. Now that I'm making some, I might as well make a full batch.

"Sugar?"

He nods. "Sure." I'm just surprised he's still in the same room as me.

"That's a nice necklace," I say, noticing the chain around his neck. The pendant is too small for me to see from here. I want to ask about it, but I don't. Maybe the trick to getting him to open up is to not ask anything at all.

He picks up the chain and tucks it under his shirt without a response and proceeds to sit down at the kitchen island.

I pour the sugar syrup Grandpa made earlier into the lemon juice and then I pour that mixture into the ice-cold water. After mixing it, I fill a glass up and add some lemon slices to it and slide it across the counter to Grayson.