Not Even His Assistant

Chapter Eighteen

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a long chapter, brace yourselves! <3

Chapter 18- He's "Mature" (Greyson's Perspective)

The doorbell rang.

I groaned loudly, rolling over in my bed so that my face was in the pillow.

The doorbell rang, again.

With another groan I turned my head to the side, "Jay! The door!" I called out, my voice sounding much huskier than usual. I dropped my face back into my pillow, pulling the blankets up. My body easily got comfortable and my thoughts got fuzzy.

The doorbell rang, again.

"What the fuck!?" I threw the blankets off of me and sat up at the edge of my bed. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I pulled up my phone to check the time. I nearly cried when I saw that it was still way too early in the morning.

My thoughts finally came to me and I remembered that Jay was probably already at work. I also remembered that I had recently become unemployed. Which meant that this was my day to sleep in until noon, at the earliest, and then spend the rest of the day goofing off and considering if I should go back to work like Jonny had asked me to do.

So who in the world could possibly be disrupting my ever so meticulous schedule for the day?

The doorbell rang again and I was sure the person on the other side of the door had a death wish.

"Coming!" I called out and finally stood up, all too quickly. My head spun. I slid on my slippers slowly and walked over to my dresser. I wiped my eyes one more time and examined myself. My shorts were too short and my tank top too revealing to be answering the door.

I scanned my room and found one of Jayden's black hoodies on the ground. I pulled it over my head and rechecked the mirror. The shorts were still too short, I was now nearly sweating, but the bigger mess was my hair. It really looked like a bird attacked me and I lost. Curls and tangles were abundant.

I shrugged. Whoever was at the door was at fault for coming so unannounced and at such an ungodly hour.

My feet shuffled through the house until I finally got to the front. I undid the lock and pulled the door open, probably much wider than was necessary.

My heart nearly stopped as I took in the person standing three feet in front of me. Out of all the people who could've visited me at my house, he was by far the worst person to do so at that moment and had no business doing so. I had half a mind to shut the door in his face.

And I should have done it too.

He stood there, about my height, with this meticulous black suit, looking like he came straight from the office, his eyes peering into mine. He had a brown paper bag in one hand, his other sat in his pant pocket. There was this slight smirk on his face that seemed to mock me.

"What are you doing here?" I nearly spat.

"I just wanted to have a little chat," He looked me up and down, "Can I come in?"

Hell no! I thought to myself. But that seemed weak and I did not like for him to think he intimidated me in the slightest. So instead I said, "Sure thing," I paused for a moment, "Connor's friend."

"It's Adam," He winked at me as I moved aside to let him through. The moment he stepped foot in my house I could feel him judging everything. He walked over to where the couches were and turned to face me, "I brought you a gift." He extended the bag to me.