Hostile(21)

“What kind?”

“Chocolate chip,” she says happily as she colors in another one of my drawings.

“Good. At least it’s not oatmeal raisin. I mean . . . that’s not a cookie. That’s fruit and oats.”

She giggles and shakes her head, and I swear it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I don’t like how easy it was to get attached to this kid, but I just know I want her to be okay. I catch Rhett’s curious appraisal from across the room and can’t help myself, tossing him a quick wink.

He scowls at me and, no doubt, grumbles something to himself, which only makes me laugh. The ride here was quiet, but he did let me drive him here. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?

He could have told me to fuck off. Threatened me against telling anyone about our kiss. Been a total dickhead. But he didn’t. I think he’s craving more time with me almost as much as I am with him.

When we say goodbye to the kids and Tanya, he doesn’t even try to argue about me taking him home. He just climbs in my passenger seat, and we’re silent as I drive to his place. My nerves are ramped-up, and my palms are sweating as I grip the steering wheel.

I’m afraid of what he’s going to say when he finally breaks the silence, but for whatever reason, I’m going to let him take the lead. I need to hear how he really feels about it. I want to hear all the things when it comes to Rhett.

When I park the car, he doesn’t immediately dart out, but he doesn’t invite me upstairs either. What he does is more surprising than anything I could have ever dreamed of. He unbuckles, and then his hand is on the back of my neck, dragging me to him, his lips pressing firmly against mine.

Holy. Shit.

It takes a moment for me to catch up, but when I get my seatbelt unhooked, I lean into him, attacking his mouth with mine. Our tongues fight for dominance—his sweeping into my mouth, and then mine plunges into his—mingling and tasting each other.

His fingers dig into the back of my neck, and I’m certain I’ll have a bruise there tomorrow but couldn’t care less. His hard body leaning against me and his mouth devouring mine is everything I could ever want. I wish my car was bigger. I’d drag his ass into the backseat and never let him leave. But soon, he’s nipping at my bottom lip and pressing one hand on my chest, pushing me back but leaving his palm there, scorching my skin through my shirt.

“Grayson,” he breathes heavily.

“Rhett,” I pant back, staring at his plump lips, swollen from my attack.

“I . . .”

“Don’t,” I plead. “Please, don’t. Don’t say this is a mistake or you’re not gay or whatever you’re going to say.” I gesture between our two bodies. “You can’t deny the attraction here.”

He shakes his head slowly, dropping his hand from my chest and dragging it through his hair. “I’m not gay.”

I scoff, ready to argue. But then, I see the lost look in his eyes, and I wait.

“I don’t know what I am, Grayson. I . . .”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, not wanting him to be upset. “Really. We’re young. And if you don’t want to admit . . .”

He cuts me off with a glare and a bite in his tone. “It’s not a matter of admitting it.”

“Then what is it?” I really want to know—because again—that kiss was fucking everything, and I’m dying to do it again and again. But I know I need the answer more.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as his eyes narrow. He turns to look out the windshield, looking lost and confused. “It’s about not knowing what the hell I am, Grayson.”

I want to understand. I’m pissed that my brain isn’t catching up, but it isn’t. “What do you mean?”

His eyes meet mine, and I can see he’s struggling. “I mean . . .” Another hard swallow, and his voice is hoarse when he continues, “I always thought I was nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” I quickly retort because how can he think that?

“No.” He shakes his head, clearly frustrated I’m a dumbass who doesn’t get it. “I mean . . . sexually.” He looks away from me and out the side window. “I thought I wasn’t interested in sex. To the point I was sure I was totally broken.”

Yeah . . . Okay . . . That does not compute in my brain, but I don’t want to piss him off, so I know I need to tread lightly. “Uhh . . .” Good job, keeping up your dumbass status, Grayson.

His gaze meets mine again, but he doesn’t look mad. “I don’t think I’m gay because up until you started stalking me—”

I grin at that and interject, “You mean, trying to be your friend.”

He gives me a half-hearted grin back and shakes his head. “Yeah . . . sure.” He grips the back of his neck with his hand. “I wasn’t attracted to anyone. Not on a level where I wanted to kiss them. I’d see a pretty girl or a good-looking guy and admit they were attractive, but I didn’t want to kiss them.”

“Until me?” I ask with a hint of excitement in my voice.

He rolls his eyes, groaning, and as he drops his hand from his neck, he leans back against the headrest. “Jesus, you’re going to be even more insufferable now, aren’t you?”

I laugh at that. I can’t help it. “Yeah, probably.”