His Sweet Revenge

Chapter 33.

"What are you naming the bear?" Grayson asks after picking up his phone from my bedside table.

"I don't know," I answer and click my TV off. My eyes wander to my bear, sitting on the floor beside my dresser. "Do you have any suggestions?"

He smiles, a bit of mischief in his eyes. "Bartholomew."

I laugh, pushing his shoulder. "How about we compromise and go with Bart?"

"Bart," he says, testing it out. "That's perfect. I like it."

"Do you want some food now? I heard your stomach grumble at least four times throughout Finding Nemo. I thought you might say something, but then you didn't."

"I wasn't going to say anything. Not when I had you in my arms like that."

I blush and get up from my bed. "Come on, Grayson."

He frowns and grabs me by my arm, pulling me down onto his lap. I let out a yelp. "What did you just call me?"

I laugh and pull out of his grip, running toward my door. He chases after me, down the stairs, out the door, and across the lawn.

At some point, he catches up to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me down onto the grass.

"I got you," he says by my ear, breathless. Then he stares into my eyes, slowing his breathing down. "Say you're sorry."

I smile, looking up at him. "Sorry for what, Grayson?"

He tilts his head, eyes traveling to my lips. "You know for what."

I bring my hand up to his face. "I'm sorry, Gray."

He closes his eyes and smiles. "Layla," he whispers my name, giving me goosebumps all over my arms.

The sound of faint laughter travels over from the backyard of my Uncle's house. I sit up, and Grayson reluctantly pulls himself off of me.

I clear my throat. "We should ... we should join them."

I get up off the grass and dust off my clothes. Grayson silently follows behind me. I lead him to the kitchen and make him a plate with the leftovers.

No one is inside. It seems like everyone is out back.

I warm up the food in the microwave and set it in front of him on the kitchen island. "Thank you, Layla," he smiles.

I raise my hands to his head, running my fingers through his hair. I could get used to this. At the same time, the back door opens. Mom walks through.

I pull away from Grayson and return to the counter to put the food in the fridge.

"Oh, Grayson. There you are. We've been waiting for you all day."

"Here I am," he says, setting his fork down.

Hale walks in after my mom.

"He's here," Mom tells him.

"Layla, will you go outside for a while, please?" Hale asks.

I nod and begin walking to the back door.

"No." Grayson's voice stops me. "Layla can stay."

A confused look passes over my mom's face, but Hale remains impassive. Though I do notice his jaw is slightly clenched.

"Fine. If that's what you want. Did you or did you not take my gun from our bedroom closet?"

Grayson pushes his plate away, his food half eaten. "I did not."