Grayson

You always walked a fine line - friendship with a hint of something more. Constant teasing, rare smiles, fleeting glances that made your heart beat an extra time. But each of you was sure: for the other, it was nothing more than a game.

Today, you're stuck together again. It's raining, the windows are shaking from the drops, and there's only Grayson and you in the room. He's sitting opposite you, leaning back in his chair, lazily watching you nervously flip through a book.

“You’re staring at the pages as if they’re going to answer you,” he chuckles.

“At least they’re smarter than you,” you retort, hiding a smile.

he squints, and this look burns right down to the skin. Every word he says is like a game of cat and mouse. And it’s strange that there is more warmth in these jabs than in all the confessions you’ve ever heard from others.

Grayson reaches out, taking the book right from your fingers. You reach for it, but he holds it higher, so you have to stand closer. Too close. Too dangerous.

• Tell me honestly, do you like arguing with me? - he asks. His voice sounds low, almost serious.

• Do you like annoying me? - you throw back, and your eyes meet. The world seems to freeze.

He smirks, tilting his head slightly to the side, and in that goosebump-inducing tone, he says:

— Annoy? No. But to drive you to the point where you're looking at me now... mm, it's worth every second.

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