Grayson - Page 68

His words reverberated in my brain.

I’d never once considered that I was topping from the bottom, but I realized I was.

I pushed and pulled at Grayson, unsure of my footing, of my feelings. But nothing in life was certain.

Nothing except the moment we had in front of us.

And all that truly mattered was how we spent those moments. I’d spent them worrying, talking myself in circles and telling myself I wasn’t enough for Grayson, instead of allowing myself the pure joy and happiness I felt when I was with Grayson to rule me and my heart.

“Have you heard from Grayson at all?” Mia asked as she finished her order, walking over to the counter with me.

I shook my head, all the truth converging on me at once. I needed to fix this. I needed to apologize, and I needed to make things right.

Because I didn’t want to keep repeating the same thing over and over again. I wanted things to be different.

I deserved the chance to love again. I deserved happily ever after.

“No, I, uh… I think I fucked up, Mia,” I said, grabbing my tray.

Mia blinked at me in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“I’ve been a fucking asshole to Grayson…”

Mia’s gaze softened as she said, “Ahhhhh.”

“Fuck,” I cursed.

Mia blinked again. “You don’t usually curse,” she said as we took our seats.

“I know,” I said, taking a sip of my mocha latte. I’d never had one before, but it tasted pretty good.

New things.

New experiences.

New is not a bad thing.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to fix it, but I need to.”

“Just call him.” She shrugged. “You think too much,” she nipped.

“What if… what if I call him and he wants nothing to do with me? What if I blew it?” I asked, biting my lip.

Mia popped a tater tot in her mouth. “What if you haven’t? What if your prince charming is waiting for you to come to your senses?” she said with a grin. A shit-eating grin.

“You know something I don’t, Mia?” I asked, narrowing my gaze at her.

Mia puckered her lips, her grin mischievous. “Only thing I know is Grayson leaves work in about an hour. He should be home by five o’clock.”

“And how do you know that?” I asked, a plan already forming in my brain.

“That’s not important,” she said, plopping another tater tot in her mouth as I slid my phone out of my pocket.

My fingers hovered over the letters of my keyboard nervously. I pushed the nerves down though, knowing they’d always be there. Until maybe, one day they wouldn’t be.

New things, Henry.

New things equal new results.