Tender Conversations | ✓

18

"Venice?" I hear someone whisper, "Venice, you're kinda squeezing the shit out of me."

"Huh?"

"It kinda hurts."

At those words, I loosen my grip. A sigh of relief tickles my neck as Grant lightly places his head on my shoulder.

"Sorry," I mumble, glancing at the clock, "We should get up."

"No," Grant whines.

"If my mom or dad find us here, they're gonna flip."

"We're not doing anything."

"Well, your head is very close to my breasts," I sort of chuckle at that, "Trust me, they'll flip."

"Let them. I just wanna cuddle."

I sigh, "Why'd you go to the bar last night?"

"I just wanted a drink. So, I snuck into the bar, sat down, and asked for a drink. The bartender wouldn't gimme one, so I punched him."

"Dammit, Grant. What if he killed you?"

"He wouldn't have done that. Murder is too messy."

"I don't want that to happen to you again, Grant."

"It won't."

"Promise me," I say, running my fingers through his hair.

"I promise," Grant replies, squeezing my side, "I don't want to do that you ever again."

____________________

Grant's in it for the long game.

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--thyselves