Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
The second time, at Sage’s place. He’d gone after Leo texted asking for his help with the talent show. Carl reminded him he couldn’t locate the C key on the piano and Leo said Carl was there to help decide on a costume. Halfway through this costume design project, who should knock on the door pretending to drop off Leo’s favourite apple cake?
Grayson extended the cake towards a grinning Leo while his gaze set over his shoulder on Carl and his gaping mouth. “Like the costume, kiddo.”
“I wanted to wear another one, but Carl said it reminded him of a frightening picture he once saw.”
Grayson’s brows shot up, and Carl laugh-cried as he slunk out the back door and made a dashing roly-poly leap over the fence.
The third time those gently judgy eyes confronted him was an hour later, at the outcrop overlooking Wellington. Carl had collapsed onto the bench and tipped his head into the afternoon sun.
A shadow passed over his face; he opened his eyes and found Grayson’s gaze boring into him from above.
“Gah! You meerkat. Popping up everywhere.”
An upside-down smirk. “I think you want me to find you. Or . . .”
“Or?”
Grayson bowed over him and as their noses touched, he veered to Carl’s ear, leaving a wake of shivers over his cheek. “You wouldn’t be retracing our meet-cutes.”
Carl hauled in a deep breath to deny this, but . . . he really had ended up at their first three meet-cutes. The Beach, where Grayson had rescued his bike. The Street Greet, where Carl had finally learned his name. The Cliff, where they’d first fallen atop one another. “Dammit.”
Grayson came around the bench, laughing, and sat beside Carl. A warm presence, snug. Nerve wrecking.
They stared at the green vista of Wellington with shimmery seas in the distance, and Carl gulped. “Are you here to do your heartbreaker thing?”
“Tsk. I ate your soup, remember?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, even if it tastes awful, I’ll eat it so you never feel bad.”
“You don’t want me to feel bad.” Carl narrowed his gaze at Grayson. “You’re going to break my heart in a way I’m happy about?”
Grayson tsked again.
Lightning bolted down Carl’s middle. “You mean . . . you like me?”
“I do.”
Carl blinked hard—and shuffled right up against Grayson, nose practically in his cheek. “You find me attractive?”
Grayson tipped his head up and reluctantly sighed. “Yes.”
“As in, you want to sleep with me?”
“I want that, too.”
“What is going on here? My heart is trying to jump out of my chest.”
“Mine feels the same.”
“I thought yours was broken.”
“You jumpstarted it.”
Carl leapt off the bench and paced the outcrop back and forth. “Explain.”
“Sit down. I’m afraid you’ll tumble over the edge.”
Carl plunked his baffled bum back on the bench.
Grayson scrubbed his face. “It happened. Suddenly. You opened my mind up about my mother wanting me to find happiness. You encouraged me to like again, without the guilt.” He shook his head with a grimace. “You made those incredulous moaning sounds getting your toes done . . .”
Happened. Suddenly. Toes—“Is that why you raced off to the bus stop?”
Grayson gave him a stern look. “It was the anniversary of my mother’s passing and I was . . .” He glanced towards his lap.
“Good call.” A pause. “You suddenly liked me?”
“I tried ignoring it.”
“That’s why you didn’t answer my texts for help with Leo’s lesson.”
“I wanted to shake off these . . . feelings, but when I overheard Poppy was going to be at Sage’s dinner, that it was supposed to be some kind of blind date . . .” Grayson balled his fists. “I tried telling myself not to care, to leave it be.”
But he couldn’t. “You came to the dinner instead.”
“The thought of you with Poppy . . .” Grayson’s glare was something. So epic, Carl fucking fluttered.
“You really were the jealous suitor. I told you—I turned him down.”
“I don’t know how I slept at all last night. Things kept . . . shifting, in my chest.” His Adam’s apple bulged with a swallow, and dark eyes turned to Carl. His voice grew gruff. “You mumbled for me to stop tossing and turning, locked your leg around me, and flung an arm across my middle. Everything wound tight inside. So tight. I could barely breathe.”
“Sounds like you’re a lost cause.”
“What’ll you do about it, groupie?”
“I don’t know.” A hoppy laugh escaped Carl seeing Grayson struggle to maintain a scowl. “Get it out of our system?”
“We could try.” A pause. “But I’m afraid—”
“Afraid what?”
Grayson swallowed and leapt to his feet. “Ah, I’m afraid we can’t try that right now. We’re due to help Sage at an escape room in twenty minutes.”
“We are?”
“Leo was upset you bolted before he could ask you along.”
Grayson strode towards the path. Carl followed him down the hill to his ute; the air felt taut between them, every shared look came with an electric shiver, and Carl decided it would be best to change the subject. Talk about things that didn’t make his chest go haywire. Like Sage and Leo, and how Carl ought to tell Sage the truth. How she might take it. And whether Carl really had to tell her. And—“I’d rather talk about me liking you,” he muttered.