false alarm - g.d

32

Elle was across from Jesse and I was across from Grayson. It was dead quiet as we ate our food, and my parents wouldn't stop looking back between me and G. I looked at Grayson, and kicked him underneath the table.

"Ahem," he clears his throat. "You have a beautiful Home, Mr. and Mrs. Castro."

"Why thank you Grayson," my mother says. I could see Grayson cringing on the inside. The thought of a couple more people knowing who he was.

"So Grayson, where do you work? I'm not going to allow some low life who doesn't do anything, date my daughter."

I almost choke on my egg nog. I shout out, "Dad!", just as mom shouts out, "Adam!"

"I have my own little business, sir. I sell and make art work."

"That's neat!" My mom says, smiling as she cuts a piece of ham.

"He's really good, Mr. Castro. So many people like his work," Elle boasted.

I watched Grayson carefully. He looked nervous, fidgety even. He was trying to keep himself together, making sure he wouldn't self destruct.

"So, Sahar," my mother starts, her tone of voice curious. "How'd you meet Grayson?"

"We first started talking through Dms on Instagram. We worked our way up into messages and met at Two Hands."

"Hm, that's peculiar."

"Ain't it?"

"Do you live in New York?"

"I live in Jersey," he says, finishing off his plate. "20 minutes from here."

"Wow, that's convenient."

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom," Grayson excuses himself, walking out of the dinning room.

It stays silent once again, my mom breaks it by making one of her mom comments. "He seems like a nice guy."

"Eh, I don't know," my dad grunts, putting his silver ware down so I clinks onto the empty glass place. "He seems strange."

"Dad," I reprimand. "Grayson is a sweet talented guy. Just give him a chance. Don't scare him away."

"I don't think anything could scare a guy like that, Sahar. He's huge! And compared to you, you're a tiny ant!"

I roll my eyes at my dad's comparison, getting up and excusing myself. I walked up the stairs, checking to see if he was okay, but he wasn't in the bathroom. He must have been in my room. I walked in finding him looking around my wall of photos. His hand touched each one, like he was memorizing them.

"Looks like you're in my lair now, huh?"

He continues to look,not taking his focus off each photo. "You look so happy."

"I mean, these are happy memories."

"You don't look like this anymore," he points out, a photo from last year's Christmas.

"What are you saying?"

"I don't make you happy, huh?"

"Don't say that. You do."

"Not like this."

He sits down on the bed, and I sit down with him. He's been off for the past couple of weeks, and it's been scaring me lately. It's like he's hiding something. I want to know more but I'm afraid to ask. I grab his head, pulling it down so I can kiss on his temple. He grabs my free hand and squeezes it tightly.

"You can tell me if you're not happy."

"I'm not happy, because you're here thinking I'm not happy to be with you. Why wouldn't I be happy with the big bad Death?"

"Because I'm rude and self centered and don't deserve a cupcake like you to call mine."

I sigh, once more rolling my eyes for the evening. "Quit moping around, grow a pair. I am here. I'm not going anywhere. I am yours."

"But are you happy?"

"Yes, very much so."

"And you're not just saying that to please me?"

"Of course not. If I wasn't happy I would have left a long time ago."

He smiles, and it makes me smile even more. As much as he doesn't do it, I try to take in his smile as much as I can. It was like every blue moon. 

He was a blue moon, rare and beautiful.